I flipped through every channel I had. Twice. Three times. The projections for spring training weren’t enough to distract me. I tried to focus on what the commentators had to say about the pitching recruits, but baseball was the last thing on my mind. I finally turned off the TV>

I stared at the ceiling. I threw off the comforter and ambled to the master bath. Which was better: hot or cold water? I took a shower. I shaved. I brushed my teeth again. There was no way I was going to fall asleep like this. Damn it. Evie was in my head. She had gotten under my skin. And apparently, the woman caused massive insomnia.

I opened the bedroom door and listened outside of Evie’s room. It was quiet.

I walked to the kitchen. After the investment meeting and then the fight with Evie I hadn’t eaten. It was my last hope for getting some sleep. I rummaged through the fridge. I settled on making a cheese and bacon omelet.

Why had I spent the last half of my day embattled with two women? My day had started off spectacularly. The morning in the honeymoon suite seemed as if it had happened a week ago. I was hungover enough to think that every morning with Evie could start the same way. We could fuck each other breathless and then go on to live separate lives all day.

I wasn’t prepared for pushback. I wasn’t ready for a fight. And I wasn’t ready to let her out of my bed.

I placed a carton of eggs on the counter. The fridge automatically subtracted the number I had removed and added them to the running grocery list. If I wanted, I could have the replacements by tomorrow.

The frying pan was in a low cabinet. I crouched for the expensive French set before gathering the bacon. The fridge chirped with another grocery item. I grumbled as I started the stove and watched the blue flame flicker.

I rotated to the kitchen island and began to whip the eggs and cream together. My eyes hit the box sitting on the counter. I stopped what I was doing.

My stomach growled and I knew I needed to make this omelet. The box didn’t matter. How and why I stopped to get it after work seemed even less important.

The bacon splattered in the pan, and I added another strip.

“Hi.”

Evie was behind me, standing in the kitchen in a T-shirt that draped from her shoulder. Her hair was messy and gathered on one side.

“What are you doing up?” I asked.

“Do you usually make breakfast at midnight?” She stepped closer in her bare feet.

Damn. She was sassy.

“No.” I rubbed the back of my hair. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t eat dinner.”

“I didn’t either,” she admitted.

“Want to join me? Bacon and cheese omelet? I happen to make the best in New York.”

I could tell she was trying not to smile. “You’d make one for me?”

I laughed. “Why wouldn’t I? Are you implying I’d hold a grudge?”

She exhaled, sliding onto a bar stool. “I wouldn’t blame you, I guess. But an omelet would be nice, if you’re offering.”

“I am.”

I cracked more eggs and whipped together another omelet for her. The bacon was almost ready.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Is it the guest room? Are you out of towels? Do you need a noise machine to drown out the street sounds?”

“It’s everything.” Her voice cracked. I expected her to take the bait from my sarcastic quips, but it was the complete opposite.

I turned to face her. “What happened? What’s wrong?” I shoveled the omelets on two plates and placed one in front of her with a fork.

She looked up. “I talked to my parents tonight.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Before I walked home. My mom called.” She reached for her fork. “I knew telling them about the elopement would shock them, but I had convinced myself that somehow they’d be more excited for me than mad.”

“And that wasn’t the case?”

She shook her head. “My father wants to talk to you.”

“Fuck. That doesn’t sound good.” The last time I had talked to someone’s dad was when I took Julia Sanders to prom our senior year. He wanted the name of the hotel where we were staying, so he didn’t fall into the father-of-the-year category.

Concerned, caring parents were out of my realm. Parents like Evie had.

“I told them we’d call tomorrow.” Her eyes misted over. “I don’t know if I can ask you to do that now.”

“Why? Because of our fight?”

She bit into the omelet. “This is good.”

“Thanks.” I leaned on the counter, studying her and eating dinner. “I’ll call your dad tomorrow, Evie.”

“Really?”

“Really.” We finished our omelets in silence. There were extra slices of bacon I placed between us. “Tell me what your dad wants to hear. By the time we’re off the phone we’ll have his full blessing.”

She huffed. “He’s not that kind of man. If you try anything but the truth, he’ll know you’re lying.”

“I might surprise you. I’m a solid negotiator. I’ve talked my way through mergers and company buyouts.”

“This isn’t a negotiation. You married his daughter without the essential father-son talk. You’ve disrespected him in his eyes. He is the kind of man to hold a grudge.”

“Shit. I didn’t know we were living in the Godfather world. It’s going to make for an awkward family Christmas.”

She giggled. I couldn’t help but smile. At least she wasn’t pissed anymore.

“I might have retold our history a little bit.”

“What did you tell them about me? Does your husband already embarrass you?” I teased. “You had to make up a story about me? You can’t rewrite history. They know me from Newton Hills.”

“Of course not, but I might have extended how long we’ve been talking, or dating, or whatever it is that led to us eloping.”

I shrugged. “What? You told them we talked longer than six hours? Did you stretch it to twenty-four? That makes it sound much more believable.”

She burst out in laughter. “That sounds insane.”

“Just tell me the spin. I’ll go along with it.”

“I told them we found each other on a website and reconnected after all these years. Things moved faster than either of us expected. That’s why I never mentioned you to them sooner. I tried to make it sound wildly romantic, but I think that part of the story fell flat. They’re angry. They’re hurt.”

“That doesn’t seem too hard to go along with. It could have happened.”

Her eyes lifted to mine. “Thank you.”

“Hey, didn’t Bridgette and Danny get married after they met again on a dating site?”

“You know about that?” She looked surprised.

“I read the alumni notes sometimes.” I grinned. “And don’t forget, I remember everything.”

She laughed. “How could I forget? They should have named you Most Likely to Remember Useless Details,” she mocked.

“Aww, that hurts, Evie.” I chuckled. “Want another omelet?” I asked. “The stove is still hot and I can always make more bacon.”

“No. I think I better go back to bed. I can try to sleep now. It was delicious. A nice surprise to know you can cook.”

She slid off the stool and padded away from the island.

“Wait. Before you go.” I rushed around to the other side of the kitchen and grabbed the box that had been sitting there since I got home.

“I have a surprise for you.” I held it forward. “This is yours.”

The lid cracked as I opened the ring box.

Evie gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth.

“I don’t know if that means you like it, or I picked the ugliest ring on Fifth Avenue.” I plucked it from the velvet cushion.

It was three carats of perfection.

“I-I…” Her eyes darted wildly. “I can’t wear that, Jer.”

“Why not?” I reached for her left hand. “I saw it and thought it was perfect for you.”

She was frozen while I slid the diamond over her knuckle. It fit as if it were meant for her hand alone.

“It’s just so…huge. So real.”

I laughed. “Love it when you say I give you huge things.”

She shoved my chest. “That’s not what I meant.” She stared at her hand. “It’s extravagant. I thought simple bands would be enough. For what this is.”

“What this is?”

My chest was on fire for her. My cock throbbed. I wanted to scoop her up and carry her to my bed, but I knew after what she said tonight she had set a new boundary. A boundary I wasn’t going to cross. I’d never convinced a woman to sleep with me. My wife wasn’t going to be the first.

“Our agreement,” she stated.

“I want you to wear it. You are my wife, Evie. That’s our agreement. And I want you to have a beautiful ring. The best ring. A ring that lets everyone know you are Mrs. Jeremy Hartwell. Don’t you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s unexpected.” She paused. “I don’t have a ring for you.”

I ran over to my coat and pulled a second box from the pocket. “I took care of it.”

I handed it to her. She twisted her lips together, but took the solid band of platinum. The metal was cool as she slid it over my finger. We should have had these last night at the Magnolia Inn, but time was tight and there weren’t any jewelers open in the middle of the night.

Standing in the kitchen, exchanging rings felt more intimate than the ceremony.

I wiggled my fingers. It didn’t feel as bad as I always imagined. It wasn’t as if a set of chains and shackles lowered from the ceiling and locked around my neck, wrists, and ankles. It didn’t burn or sear my skin. It was a small ring of precious metal—not the life sentence I pictured.

“It looks good.” Evie smiled. Her fingers moved through mine. Our palms clasped.

“Are you still angry with me?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I was furious. I thought about clawing your eyes out.”

I chuckled. “Is that something I need to worry about?”

“No.” A sexy smile appeared on her lips. “Not tonight anyway. I feel better. Less ragey.”

I tipped her chin upward. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep my hands off her beautiful body. She drove me crazy.

“This ring doesn’t mean you own me.”

“I know that.”

“I don’t think I believe you, Jer. And that’s the problem,” she whispered.

My mouth lowered to hers. “We’re in this together.” I brushed my lips against hers and she moaned slightly.

“Jer… ”

I wrapped my hand around her waist, tugging her to me. I was already hard. I pressed into the soft flesh of her stomach. “It’s your first night in New York. You can spend it where you want.” I raked her bottom lip between my teeth, drawing a sweet low purr from her throat.

“I’m going to bed.” I dropped my hold and stepped away from her. Everything felt cold without her body, but I was going to make a fucking point one way or the other.

“Where are you going?” she squeaked.

I stopped and looked at her. “Bed.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Reverse psychology isn’t going to work on me, Jer. I know what you’re doing.”

“What about straight-forward psychology?”

She bit her lip.

“Come to bed with me, Evie. I don’t want you to sleep alone.”

“You’re pretending to be worried about me? Is there something scary under the guest room bed you forgot to mention?”

Damn. She had a smart mouth.

I exhaled. “No. Nothing scary.” My shoulders relaxed. “Isn’t it obvious? I want you. I want you naked. I want you panting. I want you screaming. I want you to have as many orgasms as your sweet body can handle. I want to fuck you with my tongue first. And then when you want it, I’ll bury my cock inside you. Deep, Evie. That’s what I want. No games. No tricks. No reverse psychology. I want you. I want to spend tonight with you, what’s left of it, in my bed. Fucking you until morning. And I hope like hell you want it too.”

I walked toward the bedroom, leaving the door wide open.