Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,51

your date with the tea shop girl.”

Oliver’s smile melted into a scowl. “You’re a wanker. You know that, right?”

“You still haven’t asked her? I thought she was destined to be your wife.”

“Who’s destined to be your wife?” I asked.

“She’s a girl who works in a tea shop, and I don’t know her name, and Cox needs to shut up about it.”

“He needs to get over himself and ask her out,” Cox said. “But what do I know; I’m just a married man.”

I laughed.

Oliver glared at him. “I’m leaving now.”

“Bye Oliver,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Have a lovely evening, Sophie.”

I followed Cox back into the elevator, grateful Oliver hadn’t mentioned the scrape on my chin. We went up a few more floors, to the top, and the doors opened into a hallway. Where were we going?

“Stairs are over here.” He nodded to the right.

“Stairs?”

“To the roof.”

Oh my god. We were going to have dinner on the roof of his building so I didn’t have to go into a restaurant and feel self-conscious about my chin.

Oh man. This was so adorable, it made my insides all melty again.

I was in so much trouble.

We went up a set of stairs that said roof access, then through a thick door, and finally emerged into the evening air.

The lights of the city sparkled in every direction. Skyscrapers, streetlights, construction cranes. The hum of traffic drifted up, sounding faded and far away.

“If I’d had a little more time, I would have gotten us a table and chairs up here,” Cox said. “We’ll have to make do with a picnic.”

“A picnic is great.”

The roof itself was flat with a half-wall around the perimeter that made it feel safe. Vents and mechanical equipment were scattered around. Cox chose an open area not far from the stairwell and set his bundle down.

I helped him spread out a large blanket. Then we set up our dinner picnic.

There was more food than the two of us could possibly eat, but Cox said he had wanted to make sure there would be something I’d like, so he’d had Oliver order a variety. Grilled shrimp with pasta and lemon butter. Baked meatballs with marinara and mozzarella. Chicken with roasted vegetables. And a beef tenderloin with potatoes and asparagus.

Oliver had also packed plates, utensils, napkins, stemless wine glasses, and two bottles of wine—a Pino noir and a chardonnay.

We settled in with our food. I chose the shrimp—it was one of my favorites. Cox opted for the steak.

“How’s your dinner?” he asked.

“It’s amazing. This is really nice. Thank you.”

“No problem, sugar. I figured this way you can just enjoy your meal and not worry about whether anyone notices your chin. Which really doesn’t look that bad, by the way. I can hardly tell.”

“That’s because it’s dark.”

“Maybe. But it’ll heal in no time.”

I touched my chin, but it wasn’t the scrape I was thinking about. It was Cox’s lips on my skin. A little flutter made me shiver.

“Too cold?” he asked, already taking off his jacket.

I started to say I was fine, but he didn’t wait for me to answer. Just draped his jacket around my shoulders.

“There.”

“Thanks.”

He really needed to stop being so sweet. I was in enough trouble as it was.

“Sugar, I think we need to get something out in the open.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Okay?”

“Neither of us remember everything that happened in Vegas, obviously. But there’s one particular thing I keep wrestling with. Did we…”

“Consummate our marriage?”

He grinned, probably at my choice of words. “I gotta be honest with you. It’s killing me that I don’t remember.”

That made two of us. Maybe I was a little old-fashioned, but sex meant something to me. I didn’t like the idea that I might have slept with someone and that experience was just… gone.

“It’s been bugging me too. But I don’t remember most of what happened in your hotel room.”

“It wasn’t my room.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, it was in the sense that I paid for it. But it wasn’t my original room. I was staying at the Four Seasons.”

My mouth dropped open. “So you woke up in a strange hotel room too?”

“I sure did.”

I laughed. “Oh my god. I assumed that was where you were staying. I wonder what made us decide to get a different hotel room when we both already had one?”

“It probably had something to do with it being a honeymoon suite.”

“Was it?”

He nodded. “You didn’t notice the white balloons?”

“No, I think I was too distracted by the stripper pole. And the fact that I couldn’t find my