Read Winning Back His Wife (Camp Firefly Falls Book 1) for Free Online Page B

for color in your black and white world.”
    He put down his brush and gave her a look that warmed her to her core. “You always have been. You still are.”
    The shock of what she’d nearly done was a fresh blow. She took a step back, dropping the brush in the dirt. “But I walked away. I left you. I was…weak…I…”
    Michaels arms wrapped around her. “We left each other. We just forgot for a little while. But we can fix it, I promise. We’ll fix this godforsaken falling down summer camp, one step at a time, together, and we’ll fix us, too.”
    A half-laugh-half-sob choked out of her throat. “It really is falling down, isn’t it?”
    He kissed her hair. “It really is.”
    “But we’ll fix it?”
    “We’ll make it better than it was before.”
    She wanted to believe that more than anything. “I have a business plan typed out in the office at the main house. When we finish here, will you come look at it? Help me with it?”
    He squeezed her closer. “I would love that.”
    They stood a few minutes longer in silence, looking at the half painted yellow porch.
    “Heather?”
    “Hmm?”
    “I don’t suppose there is another door to your cabin?”
    “No, just the one.”
    “I see.”
    “Why?”
    “Just curious how we’re going to get back in. Won't it take a while for the paint to dry?”
    Whoops. “I…um…hadn’t thought of that.”
    "Why don't we finish this, then I have an idea."
----

    M ichael knew that Heather wasn't sure about his sudden enthusiasm for the camp. Hell, he wasn't so sure about it, either. Was this tied up in his emotional response to losing his wife for good? Not that he'd let that happen.
    But the more he thought about it, the more he realized two important facts.
    One, he'd seriously underestimated his wife's vision.
    Two, he was more engaged in this project than anything TST had done in the last five years.
    He'd taken enough Operations Leadership professional development courses to know that was a problem. Sooner or later, he'd become a liability to the company. It didn't matter if it was his birthright. He wasn't the right man to helm the ship once his father retired.
    At some point soon, he would need to have that frank conversation with his dad. But not today.
    Today he had a porch to paint, and then he needed to find a high point so they could get a Wi-Fi signal. He had a plan.
    He worked on the rails as Heather finished the floor. They teased each other with their progress, urging the other on, and when he stroked the last swipe of yellow on the last finial, he turned and pointed a victorious finger at…his wife's gorgeous bottom.
    She was painting the last three boards closest to the steps, wiggling her way backwards.
    He carefully wiped the excess paint off his brush and dropped it in the jar of turpentine to clean it. Then he grabbed a rag and wiped his hands. The whole time, he kept his gaze on her ass.
    Wiggle. Wiggle.
    This was the best show. He chuckled and crossed his arms.
    When she glanced back at him, he bit his lip to keep from laughing.
    "What?"
    "Nothing," he choked out, then cleared his throat. "You're almost there. Keep wiggling. I mean, keep going."
    "Wiggling?" She frowned at him as she scooted back again. "What are you…Oh!"
    He laughed out loud as she pinked up. "I love your ass, wife. It's gorgeous."
    "Oh yeah?" She returned to her work, but this time there was something more deliberately feline to her pose. Her hips tipped up and her back arched low.
    He could imagine her breasts hanging free beneath her body as she presented herself to be taken.
    And now he had a hard-on.
    "Not fair," he muttered.
    "You started it," she giggled as she ever-so-slowly and ever-so-carefully wound her way around the railing post, avoiding getting any—well, much—yellow paint on her. He crowded close as soon as she was free and tangled his hands in her hair, crushing his mouth against hers.
    "My roller!" she yipped between kisses, and he stole it from her,