Even more amazingly, Devlin defended me against Grandma’s criticism without upsetting her. He did it by making the pie all about him, although he was skeptical about my recipe, and I’m certain he’s had better.
I put some lotion on my body and walk out in my terry cloth bathrobe. My hair’s wet, but I leave it alone. Unless I put a million products on it, it’s just going to get curly and poufy in the humidity.
Devlin props his chin in his hand as he watches me. And there is a definite convexity in the sheets in his groin area.
My skin prickles, awareness of him as a man rising again. “I’m going to make some coffee,” I say quickly, uncomfortable with how rapidly and shamelessly I’m reacting. “You can have some after you shower, if you want.”
Without waiting for a response, I leave.
“Hey! What about my morning kiss?” he shouts from the room.
Uh-huh. A morning kiss is definitely not all he wants. Maybe he’s wearing a Viagra patch somewhere and I just missed it…
I toast half a bagel and start the coffee. I set up my breakfast on the counter and take one of the three matching stools that came in a set, obviously designed to make you spend more money by for
cing you to buy three at a time.
While Devlin is doing whatever he does in the morning, I check my phone. A few texts I can ignore. But there’s one from Tasha that I can’t.
–Tasha: When are you introducing me to your husband?
–Me: After we figure out a time. We had to have dinner with Grandma yesterday.
I make a mental note to talk to Devlin about meeting Tasha.
–Tasha: I’m sorry.
–Me: It was what it was. At least she seems to like Devlin.
–Tasha: The woman’s shallow. Not that it matters, since you’re going to outlive her.
– Me: And live well while I’m doing it!
–Tasha: Right!
I laugh softly. According to Tasha, that’s the ultimate revenge.
Facebook has exploded with notifications since last night. Almost all of them are posts from the Drover Secret Society tagging me. They tried to tag Devlin, but he’s not in the group. I’m not even sure if he’s actually on Facebook. I know he has a page, but that’s probably managed by his PR team.
Everyone is dying to know if it’s true that the Devlin Marsh and I are married. And they want details about how and why. Some are saying Devlin’s just here to hang out with me because Max asked him to, since I’m being threatened by a stalker. I have no idea where they got that idea. It’s really hard to secretly stalk somebody in a town as small as Drover, where everyone knows everyone.
I should probably say something. But after talking with Devlin. He might have to phrase things a certain way to avoid getting sued or something.
By the time I’m done eating my half-bagel and cream cheese and am on my second cup of coffee, Devlin comes down. He’s naked, except for a pair of black shorts. I presume he put on some underwear, but I can never be sure with him.
“Good morning.” He sounds so cheery. And did he just flex his chest muscles? “What a beautiful day.”
“It’s raining,” I point out, in case he hasn’t looked outside.
“Doesn’t have to be sunny to be beautiful.” He comes over and places a kiss on my forehead.
Somehow it feels more intimate than one on my mouth would have. I fidget in my seat, then stop when I realize I’m being ridiculous. “Want some coffee?”
“Yeah, sure. Smells good.” He glances at the coffee machine. “Hey, pretty fancy. We have that same exact model in Dallas. Did Max get it for you?”
I nod and hand him a mug. “No cream, but the sugar’s over there.”
He glances at the jar but takes a sip of his coffee as is. “I’m good.”