This wasn’t real life. It sure as hell wasn’t the beginning of a real marriage (AKA death by gold band).

She’d seen what happened to the women who went into marriage fresh and optimistic and walked away tired, worn, and cynical. Even if this wasn’t a fictional marriage, she had decided she was too old and set in her ways to let a man mess with her shit. For once in her life, she was going to put her foot down. She wouldn’t go with the flow. She wouldn’t just accept that this was the way things had to be. She was going to take a page from her characters’ book and be a badass.

Kinda.

Sorta.

Okay, this was her first test, and she wouldn’t fail in sticking up for doing things her way just because a half-naked Nash made her breath catch and her heart speed up.

“Oh,” he said, taking a few steps closer. “Were you distracted by me?”

He came to a stop only a few feet from her, and she couldn’t help but notice that pale freckles dotted his broad shoulders and cascaded down until they were hidden by his chest hair.

The satyrs in her books should definitely have more freckles.

She let out a shaky breath as a sense of uber-awareness of Nash washed over her and pocketed the image for later—yes, she was a weak person.

“Not in the least.” Why did her voice sound so squeaky all of the sudden? “I was worried about your ankle.”

“It’s all better today.” He balanced all of his weight on his right foot for a few seconds before putting his left foot back down. “And anyway, that answer didn’t sound anything like the truth.”

Because it was a gigantic lie.

Okay, if her heart could stop fluttering like that for half a second, she could come up with something to distract him with. She was the queen of winging it when writing her books. This should be easy. All she had to do was think of Nash as the annoying satyr with freckles on his shoulders and she’d be fine.

Okay, brain, any minute now.

No, don’t look down at the outline of his dick again.

ACK! Not at his broad chest, either.

His face—nope that’s not gonna work, either.

Okay, that spot on the wall to the left of his ear. Perfect. That’s the one. Now, do your magic thing, brain.

Thank God, it did.