“I don’t care. But I’ll wait if you want a shower first, or a long bubble bath.” He put the wine glass in her hand.
“Were we out of pretzels and ice cream? Since when do you do the grocery shopping, anyway?”
“It’s a special occasion. Our ninety-day anniversary.”
Beth’s heart fluttered. “You remembered?”
“I’m making you that pasta carton thing you liked on our honeymoon.”
“It was pasta carbonara. Do you even know what ingredients go into pasta carbonara?”
“I may have come close,” Josh admitted.
“Anyway, it’s not our anniversary – that was yesterday. I know what happened, Josh,” she said sadly. “You finally realized why I was cooking steaks last night, so you decided to pretend it was today instead to get yourself off the hook.”
“It is today. The end of December to the end of March, plus two days because February only has twenty-eight, means it’s ninety days ago today that we got married. That’s why I swapped shifts and worked yesterday, so I could be off early today. You’ll never guess what I got you.”
Beth’s head was swimming. She wasn’t about to dig out a calendar and count; the fact that Josh had made the calculations made her feel warm all over. Three months; ninety days... who cared which of them was actually right? Maybe they both were. He had remembered, after all.
“Is it gold?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Platinum?”
“Nope. Much more meaningful than that.”
“Nothing’s more meaningful than platinum,” she teased. Not that she cared; she was savoring the glow. She felt like her whole insides had lit up. How she loved this man! “Don’t tell me you went traditional and got me something paper, because that’s for the first year, not the first three months.”
“I got you a tattoo,” he said.
Beth’s glow died into ashes. “You did what? You want me to let someone stick inky needles into me? I suppose you’ve already picked out the artwork I should wear for the rest of my life, too. Well, I have something to say about that, Josh. How about the outline of a hand with the middle finger extended?”
“No, dear. No inky needles for you.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
He held up a hand. His left hand. And again, he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring...
She looked closer. “You hurt your hand,” she said uncertainly.
“You can say that again. Wicked painful it was. I’m supposed to keep it covered till it heals, but I wanted you to see it. Look closer.”
The skin at the base of his ring finger looked angry – red and swollen. But inside the puffy area was a darker shadow, a wide gold-colored streak which went all the way around.
“It’s a wedding ring I never have to take off,” Josh said. “So there will never be any doubt, no matter where I go, that I’m yours.”
Beth didn’t know she was crying until he brushed tears away with his thumb.
“Though if you’d like to engrave my name inside a big old heart on your tush, Bethie, I could certainly get used to...”
She swatted him. Then she kissed him, hard, and she no longer cared a bit that she was sweaty from her walk.
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Leigh Michaels is the author of more than 90 books, including contemporary romance novels, historical romance novels, and non-fiction books including On Writing Romance. Six of her books have been finalists in the Romance Writers of America RITA contest for best traditional romance of the year, and she has won two Reviewers’ Choice awards from Romantic Times magazine. More than 35 million copies of her books have been published in 25 languages and 120 countries around the world.
Her website is http://www.leighmichaels.com
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Table of Contents
The Tattooed Lady
The Tattooed Lady Page 2