At Wits' End - Kenzie Reed Page 0,18

undyed mulch beds in the front of the house. There’s an outdoor kitchen to the right, with a double sink, a new propane grill and a metal and glass table and chair set.

When we arrive at the front door, Donovan sweeps me up in his arms as easily as if I were a feather pillow. My purse dangles heavily and awkwardly from my arm, and Aceto growls.

I want to nestle into Donovan’s neck and breathe in the scent of him, woodsy notes of cologne mingled with his own sexy musk. But I remember his low, urgent voice, talking to his friend right after we were united in unholy matrimony.

It’s on paper only. It’s nothing, I swear. It’s just something I’m doing to help out my family and solidify a business deal.

It’s nothing.

It’s nothing.

So I do the opposite, stiffening in resistance. “What are you doing?” I cry.

“Carrying you across the threshold.”

“You don’t have to make it ridiculous,” I scoff.

“Why not? Everything about this situation is ridiculous.”

I sigh. “Fair.”

He stands there, looking at me expectantly.

“Yes?”

“Uh, could you get the doorknob? My hands are kinda full.”

He’s not going to be thrilled with what he sees, but then again, we can’t stay out here all night. Sullen gray thunderclouds are bunching on the horizon, threatening rain. I reach over and twist the doorknob, and my husband carries me over the threshold.

He takes one look around and drops me on the floor. I stumble and almost fall. “Hey!” I cry indignantly. I guess the honeymoon’s over.

Donovan spins to pin me with a suspicious glower. “This is a joke, right?”

“I mean, not any more of a joke than a wedding between a Ribaldi and a Witlocke.” I smooth my wedding gown. “This is actually where we are staying, if that’s what you’re asking.”

We’re standing in an open-concept space with exposed barnwood beams, windows that flood the room with sunlight, a single walled-off bedroom, a bathroom, an area that’s been set aside for the kitchen, a fireplace on the far end in the area that will be a living room, and open riser stairs with a handrail, leading to the second-floor loft area. The kitchen is semi-finished, with cabinets, a sink, and a butcher-block counterspace. There’s a rack of wine and a few bowls of snacks on the counter. At the very far end of the living room is a screen door that leads to a big screened-in back porch.

The lack of refrigerator, stove and furniture are also immediately evident.

Donovan folds his arms across his broad chest. “I am not sleeping here.”

I smile sweetly. Sign me up for jogging, will you?

“Well, you’re a big boy, Donovan. You’re welcome to sleep anywhere you want. For instance, there’s a barn on Rocco’s part of the property. You’d be sharing it with goats and cattle…oh, and the ducks tend to escape and wander in there, but there are plenty of soft, cushy hay bales.” I set my purse down and open it wide. Aceto leaps out and shoots to the top of the elaborate cat tower I’ve set in the living room area. It’s covered in carpeting and has multiple levels and hanging rope balls.

“The cat has furniture.”

I nod in agreement. “Your keen powers of observation never cease to amaze.”

“But we do not have furniture.”

“Priorities. I don’t want him to keep trying to escape, and he needs places to climb and be entertained. This is possibly my uncle Nuccio we’re talking about.” I wave at Aceto. “Hi, Nuccio.” He lashes his tail from left to right, and commences cleaning his whiskers with his paw. He’s very fastidious. Just like Uncle Nuccio was. Then I turn back to Donovan. “I’m working on a limited budget here. And we do have some furniture.”

He brightens a little. “Where?”

I point to the far wall, to a card table and chairs. “You’ll just have to help me unfold it.”

“Unfold… For the love of God, Sienna! There’s no fridge and no stove!” he protests. He flips the switch by the front door. “Where’s the light?”

“We’re having the electrical inspected on Monday, and once we get the okay, we can turn the electricity on.” I point at the sink. “We do have running water, in both the kitchen and the bathroom. Hot and cold, even. We’re fancy like that. In the meantime, we can eat at my family’s house…” He shakes his head. “Or in town. And there’s a propane grill outside. There is a bed and a chest of drawers and a wardrobe in the bedroom.