“No.” He let out a breath and brushed a hand through her hair. “Only one thing will make up for that pain. Marry me next Saturday. The pastor said he’s available. Sarah and Veronica want to help pull together the reception. And I’ve already told Dad I’m taking a week off for our honeymoon. Someplace warm, where all you’ll need is a bikini. And me.”
“Next weekend?” She grabbed his wrist, pressing a kiss against his palm so she wouldn’t be tempted to squeal like a kid on her way to the carnival.
“I’d rather marry you tomorrow, but everyone at the factory said I needed to give you time to find a dress.”
Happiness rose inside her, light and shiny as a silver balloon. “You told everyone at the factory?”
“Well, yeah. Yesterday, I made the mistake of telling Freddie I was leaving work early to buy you a ring and within twenty minutes everyone knew.” He bowed his head, touching his nose to hers. “Even my mom knows. Been talking to her since you left. You showed me what an idiot I’ve been, not listening to what people needed to tell me. She can’t wait to meet you, pixie. Hell, Jaye. I’ve got my family back, because of you.” His lips grazed hers in a reverent kiss. “When I can claim you as my wife, I’ll have everything I need.”
One look at the love in his gaze made anything seem possible. “One week is plenty of time to find a wedding dress.” She burst into a giddy smile. “And a bikini.”
Chapter Thirty
Halfway through rinsing a plate, Jaye felt a big arm coil around her waist. She turned her head and smiled against Mitch’s cheek. “Hi, love.”
“Quit working.” He gently pulled her hands out of the sink and stuffed a dishtowel into her hands. “Watch the news with me. We can clean up later.”
“If you insist.” She dried off and flicked the dishtowel against his lean stomach with a playful snap.
Mitch caught the towel and pulled her toward him, kissing her on the mouth. “Mm. You taste like cupcakes, Mrs. Blake.”
“So do you, Mr. Blake.”
“Come on.” With a possessive grip on her hand, he led her into the living room. He sank onto the couch and glowered at the young man snoring in the armchair. “Even though we’ve been married for six weeks, I’m never alone with you.”
She cuddled up next to her husband and shifted her gaze to Freddie. He reminded her of a lanky hound, always following them around. At least, she didn’t have to walk him. “I like the company. You glassblowers are sweet.”
“Thanks, but my glassblowers are becoming a problem. They won’t let me have you to myself.” Mitch slid his palm onto her thigh, stroking his thumb across the denim covering her leg.
Pulling up the sleeve of her sweater to increase the amount of skin pressed against his, she traced the faded scar on the hard band of his forearm.
He turned his hand palm up to expose his inner arm.
“My ticklish husband,” she murmured, gliding her fingertips along his skin. Despite his protestations to the contrary when they first met, Mitch loved to be tickled. Loving the way his big body relaxed under her touch, she was happy to comply. Tonight was no different. The soft trail of her fingertips produced goose bumps across his skin and his muscular leg thumped against hers. “Feel good?”
“Feels really good. I’ll return the favor later when I rub your feet.” He slanted a devilish grin her way. “I’ll start at your toes and work my way up.”
“To where?” Her body tingled at the possibilities.
The good-humored lines creasing the corners of his eyes softened to a solemn pinch. “Your heart.”
“You’re already there.” When she’d married Mitch right before Thanksgiving, she knew he loved her—but she was unprepared for how often he’d show his affection. Every day, he’d do something sweet or romantic, and even though a January wind now pushed against the windows, Jaye felt blissfully warm.
They watched the last few minutes of the news in happy silence, ignoring the dishes covering their coffee table from the glassblowers’ weekly football gathering—one of many rituals Jaye loved about living in Shinglehouse. During the past six weeks, she’d gotten more hugs and kisses than she’d had in her entire lifetime.
A loud commercial flooded the room with sound. Freddie snorted, stretched, and blinked at them. “Sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep. Guess I’d better head home.”
“See you tomorrow.” Mitch let go of Jaye to shake Freddie’s hand.
“Thanks for feeding me. Again.” Freddie pressed a grateful kiss on Jaye’s cheek. “I practically live here on weekends. Being with you guys is much nicer than staying alone in my apartment.”
“You’re always welcome.” Jaye meant it. Not only did she have a husband, she felt like she’d gained a number of brothers.
Freddie plucked the last brownie off a plate and walked out with a cheery wave.
Mitch put his arm around Jaye. “You do realize he’d move in with us if given half the chance, don’t you?”
“Is that why you suggested moving my bedroom furniture into the guest room? So, we have a place for Freddie?”
The corner of Mitch’s mouth back in a rueful grin. “No, not Freddie.”
The doorbell rang.
Jaye glanced at her watch. “It’s after ten. Whoever is at the door will be upset the game is over.”
“I’ll see who’s here.” Mitch got off the couch and tucked his shirt into his jeans.
Not giving their visitors a second thought, she carried some plates into the kitchen. When she returned for the empty glasses, Mitch stood beside two people.
Her parents.
Both of them stood stiff as wooden marionettes.
“I’m sorry to stop by so late. We were driving home from Baltimore and thought your house would be on the way back to Syracuse.” Her mother offered a wavering smile. “We got lost.”
Mitch turned off the TV. “You’re family. You can drop by any time.”
Jaye gave him a panicked squint. Her parents never stopped by to chat. Ever.
Something must be wrong.
Her breath
