Homewrecker (Into the Flames #1) Read Online Free Page B

self-conscious person at all, unless you count when my mother is around. I also don’t think for one second that anything can break the love that Gunnar and I have, but I don’t know what’s going through his head right now. That has me more nervous than usual.
    Tightening his grip, he kisses a trail up my neck to my ear. “Love you always, baby.” He rests his head there for a second before propping his head on top of mine so he can watch my reflection like I am his.
    “Listen,” I say, turning around in his arms so I can look him in the eyes. “About earlier…”
    Gunnar shakes his head. Lowering his mouth to mine, he silences me with a kiss. Thankfully this is how he always gets when he’s drinking. He wants to touch me, to love me, and if it means we can avoid the conversation that needs to happen for a little bit longer, that’s fine with me. The last thing I want to do is have a serious discussion that will no doubt end in an argument because we have both had more than enough to drink tonight.
    Pulling back a few inches, he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “We can talk about it later, baby. Right now I just want to take my gorgeous wife to bed so I can love her.”
    Later I can deal with. Avoiding the baby talk is fine by me so I follow him down the hallway with hopes that tonight might be the night that he finally lets everything out that I know he’s holding back from me. There are things he isn’t giving me in bed and I know he wants them just as much as I do. I swear one day I will get him to let them loose.

 
    “Hit it!” I shout. Gripping the dashboard of Gunnar’s truck, he floors the gas and hits the huge muddy puddle on the trail wide open. Mud flies up from the tires, covering the windows and front end.
    “Hang on, baby! Damn truck is still too clean.” Gunnar laughs, jerking the wheel so that mud sprays everywhere.
    It’s been days since the baby bombshell dinner and neither Gunnar nor myself have brought up the topic for discussion. With the team’s first at home game coming up, practices are running later and later every day, leaving him wiped out and ready for bed as soon as he showers and eats. As I always do, I go on about my day. I take care of the house and go to work, then when he comes home I’m all about whatever it is that he needs until I fall asleep curled beside him every night. It’s a cycle that I’ve come to expect, and as soon as football games actually start, I have no doubt that I’ll see him even less.
    He’s working so hard, the weight on his shoulders to produce a winning team is huge and the stress has been taking a toll on him. Today though, he’s relaxed. I have to admit it was a surprise when he came home from lifting with some of the boys on the team this morning and said to get in the truck. The tension that was radiating off him in thick waves is now lost in the mud filled trails of the Tennessee mountains. We used to do this every single weekend; get lost out here all day before finding a place to park. Some of my favorite times with Gunnar were spent in the back of this very truck on a blanket with nothing but gas station sandwiches and cheap beer.
    The tires spin, but the truck stays firmly in place. “Shit,” he says, shifting gears. Locking in the four wheel drive, Gunnar shifts into reverse, attempting to free the truck. The wheels spin again, and the engine roars, but it goes nowhere. “Hang tight,” Gunnar says, putting the truck into park. “Good thing I bought that winch, huh?”
    Opening the door, he slides out of the truck, his boots sinking into the mud. Taking the hair tie from my wrist, I pull my brown hair up in a messy bun and climb out to help.
    “What are you doin’?” Gunnar asks, pulling the line free of the winch mounted to the front of his truck.
    “Helping,” I reply, stepping around the front of the truck. Grabbing the line from his hands, I start for a large Poplar tree not far from the truck.
    Wrapping