Billie.
I walked into the gym just as Lexus was busy lifting weights, looking like he was single-handedly trying to humble gravity.
"Welcome home," I said, casually leaning against the doorway.
Lexus sat up, gulping down his water like he was preparing for a dramatic movie scene. "Not even a welcome home hug?" he asked, raising a brow.
I rolled my eyes but walked over anyway, leaned in, and gave him the laziest, most lackluster hug in history. The kind you'd give a distant aunt at a family reunion.
He wasn't impressed.
Lexus stood up, and I immediately regretted my life choices. The man was tall. Annoyingly tall. It was one thing to know your husband had the physique of an Olympic athlete, but it was another to be reminded up close that you barely reached his upper chest.
"Billie," he said in that deep, knowing voice. "Do you want me to demonstrate how you should hug your husband after he's come home from a tiring trip?"
