Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Or at least it should be. It had to be. Because otherwise, losing Colin would kill her.
****
Colin guided Hope through the entrance, his hand warm against the small of her back. She felt the stares immediately—some admiring, others speculative, a few openly hostile.
They circled the room, exchanging pleasantries with Colin's former classmates. Hope maintained her role as the devoted wife, laughing at appropriate moments, touching Colin's arm with practiced affection. The performance came more easily now, muscle memory after days of repetition.
Too easily, a voice in her head warned. Remember what this is. Remember what it isn't.
"Colin!" A booming voice interrupted their conversation with a retired teacher. "Holding out on us again, I see."
Hope turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man approaching, his grin wide beneath a carefully groomed mustache. Wilson, according to his name tag, and captain of the wrestling team, if she remembered correctly.
"Wilson." Colin's greeting was cordial but contained. "This is my wife, Hope. Hope, Wilson Bards."
The other man extended his hand to Hope, holding hers a beat too long. "This is quite the honor: to be in the presence of the woman who finally pinned down the unpinnable Colin Soukoulis."
"I, um, feel the same." She couldn't help but smile at his colorful vocabulary even as she carefully extracted her hand from his grip. She had no idea if 'unpinnable' was an actual word, but whatever. She smiled at Wilson, adding, "It's an honor to be in the presence of high school wrestling greatness."
Wilson immediately clutched his heart. "How unfair life is, to fall under the spell of a woman already taken." He then looked at Colin, asking dramatically, "Would you take pity on a poor soul and let me at least enjoy one stolen dance with your wife?" Wilson turned to Hope with a wink, saying, "For old times' sake."
Hope couldn't help laughing despite herself. "We didn't have any old times."
"Recollections can vary," Wilson said piously, "but I still stand by my words." He glanced at Colin then, asking, "It's alright, isn't it?"
Colin looked at Hope. "Only if it's alright with my wife."
Wilson's hopeful look had Hope laughing again. "Well, in that case—"
He offered his hand to Hope, but just as she was about to place her hand in his—-
Oh!
"Good try, Wilson," Colin drawled as instead he caught her hand and slid it into his trousers' pocket instead. "But I think not."
Wilson's laugh was good-natured. "Well, well, well. You were never this jealous, not even with Princess."
"Isn't that to be expected? We were just kids back then. But Hope is my wife." Colin gave Wilson a nod. "We'll see you around."
Hope wasn't even given a chance to say goodbye, with Colin already taking her hand out so he could curve an arm around her waist. And then they were walking away, and it was all she could do not to trip as she did her best to keep up with her husband's long-legged stride.
Hope cleared her throat. "So, I'm not sure what happened—"
Colin looked sharply toward her, and Hope ended up gulping at the fury in his gaze.
"Did you even notice how you had him staring at your breasts the whole time?"
Hope's jaw dropped.
"For as long as you're my wife," Colin said between clenched teeth, "you're to act like it."
"But—"
"If you need an explanation, then think of it this way. You're mine. Everything of you is mine. Got that?"
Before Hope could respond, another former classmate of Colin approached, pulling them into conversation. The moment passed, but the tension lingered, electric and unexplored.
Throughout the evening, Hope noticed Colin's heightened awareness of other men's attentions. The way his hand stayed at the small of her back when the investment banker from Jackson Hole complimented her dress. The possessive brush of his thumb against her wrist when another man told her she had grown even prettier over the years.
It was a side of Colin she hadn't seen before. Territorial. Protective. It should have felt stifling. Instead, it sent shivers of awareness dancing across her skin.
The string quartet transitioned to dance music, couples moving to the cleared floor at the center of the hall. Colin extended his hand to Hope.
"Dance with me."
Colin ignored the surprise that flashed in her eyes as he drew her to the dance floor. He already knew she had meant to turn him down.
Being this close to her husband discomfited her, and Hope's discomfort only grew when she caught sight of a lovely blonde making a splash as she entered the ballroom. "Colin? It's Princess—"
"I don't give a damn."
Her eyes widened. "What's wrong with you? She's just arrived—"
"She has her own husband. Let him deal with his own wife. I already have my hands full with mine."
"Excuse me?" He was making her sound so wonderfully troublesome, when all her life she had gotten used to thinking of herself as dull and boring.