The Billionaire's Unexpected Wife: Part 2

9

When my eyes opened the next morning, I could hear music playing somewhere, a voice singing along to it, soft and breathy like it was coming from the dream I’d woken from. I yawned, ran my fingers through my hair, and got to my feet to find the source of it.

When I stepped out of the bedroom, I laid eyes at once on where it was coming from. Amaya was in the kitchen cooking up something that smelled good and swinging her hips back and forth to some song on the radio. She wasn’t dressed for work yet, wearing a silk nightgown we’d picked up the day before, one that showed off her generous thighs and her shapely waist. She glanced over her shoulder at me and flashed me a smile.

“Good morning,” she greeted me, and I made my way tentatively over to join her.

“What’s going on?” I asked. I felt as though I might still be dreaming or woken up in some alternate reality because there was no way I had come to and found this woman, scantily clad, dancing and cooking breakfast for me in my kitchen. Not after the way she’d been since she’d come back.

“Just making you breakfast to say thank you for taking me out yesterday,” she replied. “I was hoping to bring it to you in bed, but …”

She made her ways toward me, wound her arms around my neck, and even went as far to plant a kiss on my cheek. Her hair was a little damp, tickling me, and I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was shirtless and that she was also wearing very little. God, I could have just grabbed her and bent her over the counter and—

“Omelet?” she asked, cutting through my X-rated reverie. I blinked and then nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” I replied, and she quickly served me up a plateful of what she’d been cooking. It smelled really good, and my stomach growled as she laid it down in front of me.

“I couldn’t figure out how to work your fancy coffee thing, so I just made a pot of the regular stuff.” She made a face, pointing to the pot where it sat on the side. “You want some anyway?”

“Sure.” I nodded.

She poured me a cup and handed it to me, pausing for a moment to smile before she turned to finish off her own breakfast. I took a bite of the omelet and grinned. Damn, that was good. Just what I needed. I eyed her as she hummed along to the radio, grabbed a knife and fork, and then took her seat opposite me, clearly completely at home in this place.

“How are you?” she asked, beginning to tuck into her breakfast. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, really well.” I nodded. “All that ocean air. Good for the soul.”

“Sure is,” she agreed cheerfully. I couldn’t stop staring at her as she chowed down happily on her food. She was so different from how she had been the last few days, even yesterday when she had been consumed with that sadness for some of our time together.

“So, I was thinking about what you said last night about Jolene,” she continued conversationally. “How about this weekend? We could call ahead, make sure the van is there for us to take her out, and get a wheelchair ready for when she’s down here.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said. “I want to go up and see my nonna as well this weekend if we can get the chance. I know she wants to get to know you better.”

“Maybe you should have her up here,” she suggested with a shrug. “All those trips are taking it out of me. I could do with some time to myself.”

“And she could see what you’ve done to the place.” I nodded to the art on the walls. “But maybe I show you how to make coffee properly before then, huh?”

“If you think that would help,” she replied, and she reached over and squeezed my hand, stopping me dead in my tracks. Did she have any idea how good her touch felt?

“Thanks for offering.” She smiled at me, and she let go again. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Something was up, and I needed to know what the hell was going on. But how did I ask her without just blurting it in her direction? Wouldn’t she be insulted if I was curious about where her spritely attitude had come from? It would have been kind of a dick move to suggest that she wasn’t normally this sweet, this kind, this much of a ball of energy, even if it was the truth.

“You know, we should invite them around on the same day.” She cocked her head at me. “That would be cool. Then our families could get to know each other properly.”

“Really?” I raised my eyebrows at her. “Both of them at once?”

“If you think you can handle that many women,” she teased, and I chuckled.

“Yeah, I think I can pull it off,” I shot back, and she began to tuck in and sip on her coffee. I sat there for a moment, just staring at her. She glanced back up at me.

“What is it?”

“Did you spike my coffee or something?” I asked, keeping my voice light and hoping she wouldn’t take offense. To my relief, she chuckled at my teasing.

“Yeah, I get it.” She shrugged. “But I just decided, hey, marriage is what you make it, right? Even the fake kind like this.”

“So I can expect more of this going forward?” I asked hopefully. I could still feel the spot on my cheek where she had kissed me tingling slightly, and I craved more already.

“Don’t get used to breakfast every morning,” she shot back playfully and then nodded. “But yeah, more like this at least.”