Practical. And sweet. That defined his wife. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now can we go in?”

He shook his head. “I wanna backtrack to something you said. It’d be easier if I would…what?”

“If you’d add me on the bank account so I didn’t have to ask you for money all the damn time. But I know why you don’t want to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because this marriage is temporary and you’re afraid I’ll clean you out and take off for greener pastures.”

Kyle clenched his jaw. “That’s not true. Bill said he’d take care of adding you to everything just as soon as we get a copy of the marriage license.”

Celia’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what the holdup is on the marriage license, but it’s a moot point. You can add me to your personal bank account without proving we’re married. That just shows me that for all your talk about this being a partnership and us being a family, it’s not. I can’t pay for anything, Kyle. Not even a lousy jug of orange juice. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

He did not want to fight with her about money. Ever. He wasn’t worried about putting her on his bank account; she was scared it would be the first step toward making this marriage permanent. That’s why she lashed out at him. “Fine. You want money? I’ll write you a freakin’ check every week. Just like I would if you were my ranch hand.”

“Now you’re just pissing me off.”

Fuck. He could not win when she was like this. Nothing would make her happy. And this stupid argument was like all the other stupid arguments they’d had over the years. They would automatically spout nasty shit to each other, not caring if feelings got hurt, and stomp off. Never learning from their mistakes.

Well, that wasn’t happening anymore. She was his wife. He had to come up with a different way to deal with this.

Kyle grabbed her braid and tugged on it.

“Hair pulling in a fight, Kyle? That’s a new low, even for you.”

He laughed. “That pouty lip of yours is very sexy, Cele.”

She faced him. “I don’t pout.”

“And I don’t wanna fight with you about money. So how about until we get the banking situation figured out, we keep an envelope of cash in the house that we both have access to? That way, if you’re at the store and you come across one of them sexy nighties and a pair of crotchless panties, you can just go ahead and buy it and not have to worry if it’ll affect the grocery budget.”

Celia grinned and pushed him. “You’re an ass.”

“Yep. So does that sound fair?”

“I suppose. Do you want me to put receipts in the envelope so you can see what I spent the money on?”

“Celia. You’re my wife. I trust you. You don’t have to be accountable to me when it comes to things you buy for our home, okay?”

“Okay.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

Happy that they’d circumvented a fight, Kyle surprised Celia with a bouquet of flowers at the checkout. She fussed and said he didn’t have to, but he knew she was pleased, since she kept sniffing them.

He remained quiet on the drive home. Still brooding about Marshall. Wondering why a dying man could leave him a ranch worth several million dollars but hadn’t picked up the damn phone to tell him about it.

Would that phone call have changed anything?

Yes. No. Maybe.

Celia was right. He had to stop dwelling on this shit. So why couldn’t he do it?

“Kyle?”

He looked at her. “What?”

“Are we getting out of the truck?”

Kyle realized they were at the ranch, parked in front of the house. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Inside, he hung up his coat, kicked off his boots. He went into the room they’d designated as an office. He noticed Celia had printed out the course requirements and registration information for the vet’s assistant program at the community college. If he hadn’t already been melancholy, that sure would’ve done it. Just a reminder that she had every intention of sticking to her six-month time frame.

He stared out the window. He should chop wood. He should figure out how to fix the solar panels by the stock dam. He should be productive, because that’s what life as a rancher was all about. But he didn’t want to do a damn thing but brood.

And didn’t that make him a f**king pu**y.

Her soft footsteps alerted him to her presence before that alluring honey scent wafted over him. Celia nestled her face between his shoulder blades and her hands pressed against his pecs.

Kyle closed his eyes. God, he craved her touch. Craved it like nothing he’d ever felt. And didn’t that make him a f**king pu**y too?

Then Celia’s hands were unbuckling his belt. Unzipping his jeans. Her hand slipped into his briefs and she fondled his flaccid cock. But it didn’t stay flaccid for long.

“Celia—”

“Turn around.”

As soon as he did she pushed him against the wall. “Whoa.”

She pulled his jeans to his ankles. By the time she got rid of his briefs, his c**k was totally on board with whatever she had planned.

Celia tongued the tip and looked up at him. “Hold on to the window ledge, not my head.”

He stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “I’m agreeing to this even when I oughta turn you over my knee for your cheeky behavior.”