King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) by Marie Johnston (great novels .TXT) 📗

“I feel the same,” I confessed.

“What are you going to do about it?”

I licked my lips and his eyes tracked my tongue. I clenched his flannel, unable to believe what I was going to say. “Is there a hotel nearby?”

He cocked his head like he hadn’t heard me correctly. “A . . . yeah. I’m sure, but—”

“No ‘buts.’ You gave me a taste of life today and I don’t want it to stop. We both want the same thing, so let’s do this.” Do it now, before all the reasons why we shouldn’t jump into bed again could stop me. Before I wondered if he just wanted to get laid while suffering through Mother’s smothering.

He brushed his rough thumb along my lower lip. “First, we get you food.”

Xander

It was all I could do not to carry my wife caveman style down the street. There was a little hotel along this stretch, an old refurbished one that promised more ambiance than comfort. As long as it had a bed, I was fine. We didn’t even need a bed, just a door that closed and people on the other side of it that we weren’t related to and wouldn’t have to see again.

Savvy took a bite of her salad. I’d wolfed down most of my meal already, but her salad took time. Patience was hard to come by. Spending the day with her was exactly what I’d needed. I was ready to take it to the next level. I was ready to take this whole marriage to the next level, but I had needed some sort of sign from Savvy beyond the glow of her face behind the laptop.

“You’re still going to need to find our way back.” One of my favorite pastimes was watching her forehead furrow as she followed bus lines along a map.

“I would’ve starved down there.”

“You were getting the hang of it. When should we do it again?”

Her fork paused before another stab into her organic greens. “Maybe the weekend?” She speared her lettuce and a cucumber. “No, wait. Chief wants me to go into the office and take notes while he conferences overseas.”

“You’re going to sit beside the camera and take notes?”

“That’s what I do. Personal assistant to Walter Abbot, security consultant.” She brightened. “But tomorrow’s payday.”

I hated being reminded what was paying for the hotel—my wife working her ass off. “I set up my account on Upwork.”

“Any hits?”

“Not yet, but I also started setting up accounts on the stock photo sites.” I had to bring in money somehow. Then I could convince Savvy to go away with me. Except roaming all over the world for the last ten years had left me more out of touch with the technological possibilities out there. It was time I entered the gig economy.

The grudging acceptance that settled in with each profile I set up must be what being a real adult felt like. It’s what I had to do.

“When should we go?”

“I’ll finish as soon as I can.” She shoved a forkful in her mouth.

“No. When should we leave DC?”

Her chewing slowed until she swallowed. “I thought we were going to stay for the year.”

That was her plan, but it wasn’t mine. “Winter’s ending. You’ve worked for a month.”

“Is your article done?”

Frustration mounted. Writing wasn’t my strong suit. I was working on being more than an amateur photographer and I hadn’t put that same work into being a journalist. I’d left school before getting to those classes. “No. Article’s not done. I can work on that anywhere.”

I didn’t tell her that the Philippines trip had been three years ago. I’d had the idea when taking the pictures but hadn’t put a word down. I hadn’t remembered my idea until I’d showed those pictures to Savvy.

Mustering the interest to do all the research had taken more energy than I’d anticipated.

She took another bite, her expression troubled. She stuck her fork through more arugula and impaled a cherry tomato.

“Wouldn’t you rather travel sooner than later?” Didn’t she want to travel with me?

She pushed her plate away. “Yes, but all I have to do is be predictable and responsible until next February. It won’t be long in the grand scheme of things.”

Every day equaled a hundred in the Abbot house. “We can live a little until then.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“One day a month isn’t enough, Savvy. You didn’t commit any crimes. You aren’t in a work-release program for the rest of the year.”

Her pretty lips turned down. “A date night then. Weekly?” When I didn’t answer right away, she worried her lower lip. “It’s the structure, isn’t it? You don’t like it.”

“No, it’s fine.” It chafed. The routine I lived by wasn’t one of my own making. I’d held jobs where I had to abide by a time clock. Hell, ranching’s punch clock was the sun and the weather and there were no days off. This weird purgatory in DC was nothing like anything I’d done.

“It’s not fine. Even at my most impulsive, I am still pretty restrained.”

“Impulsive?” Except for Vegas, I hadn’t seen that side of her. “You’ve mentioned it, but I married responsible Savvy.”

“Well, there was the time I wanted to go to a high school Halloween party as Ariel. But my boyfriend at the time had an ex who was going as a Disney princess too. I had to be better, so I dyed my hair bright red instead of wearing a wig.”

All I could imagine was Savvy wearing seashells over her breasts—damn, I wanted to see that someday. “Red hair, huh?”

“Not red hair. Cartoon red. Mother paid a fortune to get it stripped out and not leave me bald.”

“Okay, but that’s normal teenage impulsiveness.”

“I told you about college.”

“The degree ultimatum.” The decision that had left her in debt to her parents.

She tipped her head and the lights of the cafe gleamed over blond highlights that had to be from the sun. She didn’t treat her hair. Too hard on the environment. Getting dragged to