He might as well accept that growing up with obsessive architects and studying it himself for four years shaped how his brain worked. Not that he wanted anything in common with his parents, and not that he would ever let them know it, but he did have a knack for design. Didn’t mean he wanted to do it for a living; hearing his parents’ monotonous lectures had been even more boring than his college courses on flying buttresses and curved versus angled arches, ancient quarries and brick making. It had sounded cool on the course description, but he still recited some of those slideshows when he couldn’t sleep.
Hopping up the steps to the front porch, he raised his hand to knock, then backed up a step. Dammit, he was going to blow this annulment if he kept nosing around. Bad enough they’d had dinner together. A standing coffee date was pushing it.
The door swung open. Freya leaned against the open door, smiling with that confidence that couldn’t be tamed… and he’d throttle anyone that tried, fuming at the thought of those asshole fiancés that had come close. Pushing down the temper boiling in his gut, he let his gaze fall on her irresistible blue eyes.
His breath caught in his throat, the air around him spinning as he tried to keep his feet anchored to the ground beneath him. Her amused grin taunted him, lighting her up even brighter, her curls sleek like how she’d worn them at the wedding, and she was dressed in the hottest sundress that begged for a picnic under a shady oak tree… the kind where he’d get to untie those shoulder straps and…
Blinking, he stopped the thought in its tracks. Annulment. No sex. Not even fooling around, even if no one else would know. “Hey, sorry to bug you. You on your way somewhere?”
She shook her head. “Sometimes I need to feel pretty.”
“I know what you mean,” he teased. Folding his arms over his chest, he restrained himself from closing the distance between them and tugging her against him, seeing if she smelled as refreshing as she looked.
“I saw you wavering outside, deciding whether or not to knock.”
He tilted his head with a lazy shrug.
“How about this? No knocking, just come on in. You are my husband, after all, so there should be some perks until we get this marriage erased, like getting to lay eyes on a handsome man first thing in the morning,” she grinned and raised an eyebrow in jest, biting the corner of her mouth with something much more sultry.
The corner of his mouth quirked up of its own accord, his imagination running wild, wondering just how much they could stretch things and still get that annulment. They’d agreed handholding was likely acceptable. What about kissing? They were damn good at that. What might the judge ask; have you had sex since you’ve been married, have you cohabitated? Unlikely to ask if they’d rounded the bases a bit, staying shy of home plate…
Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and swallowed the wicked wanderings of his awakened libido. Coming over on a regular basis was a terrible idea; easy access without even needing to work up the nerve to knock? Self-inflicted torture really wasn’t his thing.
“What brings you here this morning?” She stepped back to let him in.
Keeping his arms crossed, he wandered in. “Coffee. I like yours better than mine.”
She grinned. “Have a seat.”
While he waited at the island, she practically danced as she moved. Had she always seemed so vibrant? “Thanks for that painting. It looks amazing in my apartment, like it should be in a high-end gallery or something. Why don’t you sell it?”
She scowled, her posture stiffening and blue eyes boiling. Shit. He’d pissed her off again. At least she didn’t pace or shout this time. Instead, she kept her tone measured, as if teaching a foolish student. “I should make this clear right now. Yes, I paint to make a living. But more, I’m happiest when I can give a piece away to someone that I know will appreciate it. I keep a record of everything I’ve done, well, that’s worth keeping anyway, and list it in my portfolio. So even if I won’t make money on that one, once I get my website up and going and can promote my portfolio, it will show potential buyers my range.”
“Okay,” he nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even with her eyes sparking, she was a siren.
Mirroring his amusement as she finished her diatribe, she smiled and shook her head. His coffee sputtered complete, and she slid it across the island, then nodded to sit outside. They sat on the rockers and gazed out at the morning. This… this he could do every day.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Shifting his coffee to his left hand, he pulled out his phone and saw Asher’s name. “Hey,” he answered.
“Hey, man. Tell me, how goes married life?” Cringing, he took a slow exhale, reminding himself of the number of times Asher had saved his ass, and decided to let him get away with the smartass remark.
“Shove it.” At his side, Freya smiled, listening in. He rolled his eyes at her and smiled.
“Seriously, sucks to have it go down that way. Freya holding up okay?”
Watching her reactions, the laughter in her ocean blues. “You know Freya. I can’t picture anything that would bring her down.” Piss her off, yes, but ruin her buoyant humor? Not a chance.
“Got that right. I’m leaving Burien as we speak; I get the weekend off. Want to grab a drink at Ahab’s
