Was it just wedding jitters? Dear God, he hoped that was all it was. He hoped that once they said “I do,” she’d start being herself again.
Though, if Woodman was truly honest, the person Ginger used to be had changed even before he asked her to marry him. He couldn’t quite pinpoint when the change had started—for a year or so after he came back, it just felt like they were adjusting to each other, getting used to being boyfriend and girlfriend after so many years of being friends and the sudden shock of sleeping together. Little by little, they’d become a couple with all the trimmings—him staying over at Ginger’s cottage and her staying at his place once he’d bought the house. They spent every weekend together, every holiday, celebrated every important milestone together, and shared their challenges at work and annoyances with family. But sometimes Woodman got the feeling that Ginger was going through the motions—like maybe her whole heart wasn’t invested in their relationship in the same way that his was.
The biggest problem of all, as far as Woodman could tell, was that even after three years together as a couple, their relationship had never quite segued completely from friendship to romance. Well, for him it had, but not for her. When he was her friend—when they were having dinner together or talking about their days at work or he was comforting her as he was now—she seemed relaxed and comfortable. But when he wanted to be her lover—to tease her, caress her, make love to her—she became standoffish.
Right now, with her breasts pressed against his chest and her soft hair brushing his throat, his body came alive with hunger. But he knew her well enough to know that she was holding on to him because she was in a snit and a hug from him comforted her because he was still, as he had ever been, her best friend first and foremost.
“You sure, baby?”
“I’m sure,” she said.
He tipped her chin up and brushed his lips against hers, unable to keep himself from trying—hoping that this time she’d wind her fingers through his hair or arch her body closer to his. He longed for the sound of a sweet moan from the back of her throat, or to feel her shiver in his arms, so that he’d know that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
Her lips were warm and soft beneath his, allowing his kiss, puckering to kiss him back, even, but turning away before it had even started. His disappointment was all too familiar, but he reminded himself that he’d gotten exactly what he’d asked for.
Three years ago, when he’d sat on that porch swing with her, right before she’d given him her virginity, he’d told her that his heart belonged to her. He’d offered it to her without demanding any promises in return. He’d wanted her that badly. And now she was his, marrying him in just a few more weeks. So what did it matter if they were still best friends and a little short on the heat? He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? Don’t beg for rain when you just got the sun. One thing at a time. It’ll come. Eventually. And Woodman had every hope and expectation that it would.
“How’d it go at the cake place?”
She sighed. “Our mommas and Miz Simpkins run the whole show.”
“Aw, baby,” he said, his hands making soothing strokes up and down her back. “They’re just excited, is all.”
They’re more excited’n you. Everyone’s more excited’n you.
He had asked her last night, after a lackluster few minutes of lovemaking, if she was happy, but she’d brushed him off, insisting that she was.
And he hadn’t pressed it, because her words relieved him even if he questioned them. The fact of the matter was that he loved her so much, he’d take her any way she offered herself to him. Sure, it bothered him that they didn’t reach for each other passionately, that she’d never—in the two years they’d been sleeping together—initiated lovemaking after the first time or cried out in ecstasy ever. But she also didn’t pull away from him. She didn’t deprive him of her warmth and her body. And when he’d asked her to marry him, she’d said yes.
Most of the time Woodman concentrated on the good and trusted that he had enough love for her to last them both a lifetime. Really, everything had worked out exactly the way it was supposed to for them. And hey, maybe things would get better with time. He looked forward to a long life with her, and he’d make every possible effort to keep her happy.
Apparently, however, Ginger’s happiness wasn’t on the agenda today. When she leaned back and looked up at him, her pretty face was sour.
“Your momma mentioned somethin’ ’bout a weddin’ gift?” she asked, her eyes wide and accusing.
Oh, shit. The cradle and rocker.
He cringed. “Too much?”
“Way too much,” she said without a fleck of humor.