“As what? A maid?”

Cyrus made a disgusted sound to go along with his disgusted expression. “Governor. Smart as you are, two master’s degrees, working as a guidance counselor and then a principal. If anything can prepare someone for politics, it’s working with middle school kids.”

“That’s probably true.”

“I will make one fine first husband.”

“That I can believe,” she said, following it with a loud yawn.

“That’s it,” he said. “You have got to go to bed.”

“I’m going. I’m going.” She slapped her hands on the table dramatically and pushed herself up. Cyrus didn’t mind a bit when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

“You did that just to get to your coffee again, didn’t you?” he asked. He could hear her drinking it.

“It’s cappuccino,” she said. “Technically.”

Cyrus reached up and extracted the cup from her hand again. Without warning her, he picked her up off her feet and carried her to her bedroom.

“Oh, very nice,” she said, settling into his arms. “This is almost better than coffee.”

“Are we married yet?”

“Not yet,” she said. “Almost.”

“Not good enough.” He tossed her onto her bed and she landed with a bounce. Half the bed was pillows. Big fluffy white comforter, lacy white blanket overtop, and then pillows, pillows, pillows. What the hell was it with women and pillows?

“Go to sleep,” he said.

“You know me getting ready for bed is a ten-step process. And if you don’t know it yet, you will the first night we’re married.”

“What? Ten steps? What do you do at night? Paint the house?”

Paulina scrambled to the head of the bed and lay back on her mountain of pillows. She held up both hands and started ticking off steps on her fingers.

“Step one—pajamas. Step two—wash my face. Step three—exfoliate.”

“What happens if you skip step three?”

“You don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. Step four—moisturize. Step five—brush teeth. Step six—take my hair down. Step seven—put my hair up.”

“I think I figured out where you can skip a step.”

“Step eight—clean up the mess I just made in the bathroom.”

“Another step I’d skip.”

“Step nine—pee.”

“That’s fair. I take that step myself.”

“Step ten—say my prayers. Then I go to sleep.”

“You forgot step eleven.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Kiss your fiancé goodnight.”

Paulina turned her head, looked at him, batted her eyelashes. Cyrus dove onto the bed and before she could wriggle away, he had Paulina pinned under him. He kissed her forehead, kissed her cheeks, kissed her neck and ears.

“You keep missing home plate,” she said.

“I probably taste like beer.”

“I won’t mind your beer breath if you don’t mind my coffee breath.”

Cyrus didn’t mind at all. He kissed her mouth, long and deep. He pressed his tongue gently into her mouth and she let him. Not only did she let him, she touched his tongue with hers and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer and deepen the kiss.