“Yes. Silly question.” My body heats as embarrassment and insecurity hits me. “You said you’d be back at like four.” Well after I’d be out of this bikini and in something more . . . covering.

“We finished early,” he says.

“I hope you don’t mind that I came out here.”

His eyes rake over my body as I take the rolled-up towel from behind my head and try to subtly and eloquently cover my thighs and stomach. “Don’t cover up on my account.”

I snort and keep covering. “I’ve seen your dates. Toned. Tanned. Perfect. You’re damn well right I’m going to cover up.”

He reaches out and puts a hand on my wrist to stop me. “Hendrix. Stop.” His words are a mixture of disbelief, warning, and surprise. “You’re beautiful.”

I open my mouth to refute him, a response I’ve acquired over the years to put myself down before someone else does front and center, but the lift of his brows and the disdain in his eyes stop me.

“And no, I don’t have to say that because you’re my wife.”

“Thank you, but I still think you’re full of shit.”

He sits down on the cushion so that his hip is next to mine, his hand is resting over me and next to my opposite hip, and tsks. “Three days into our marriage and you’re already criticizing me.” He lifts the beer to his lips and chuckles around his sip. God, he’s gorgeous. And not just attractive because of his looks or the ink that covers his skin, but . . . his smile, the light in his eyes, the way he looks at me and makes me feel . . . like I’m the only thing he sees.

And I don’t know how that makes me feel when clearly right now I’m terribly uncomfortable in my own skin.

But he’s sitting next to me, touching me, and I can’t stop focusing on how close he is and how charmed I am by him with each interaction.

“You’ve been busy.” I try to sound nonchalant. Try to show that I’m not thinking about how easily that hand he’s put on the other side of my hip could run over my bare skin or how it might feel.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. This was all stuff that was scheduled before . . . this needed to happen. We’re in the middle of a writing phase so sometimes, time escapes us.”

“You’re working on new material?”

He emits a heavy sigh. “Some days, yes. Other days it feels like we’re pulling teeth. And still cool either way.”

“Just getting to hear you say that is cool,” I say and then worry I just sounded like a fan rather than whatever it is that I am. “But this isn’t music for the tour, is it?”