SOUNDCRUSH EXPLICIT

URGENT Chapter 62: Nice Guys Claim "Virgins" On their Wedding Night--Explicit

I can't imagine a better country love song for Adam's perspective of his wedding night than the Thomas Rhett song in the header above.  Adam is basically a blonder, beefier Thomas Rhett, I think...

Adam

"Okay...all set..." I assure Mac as the boat swings lazily around the bow anchor.

She's so cute the way she wants to learn about the boat stuff. She pouts and peers down into the dark water where the anchor line disappears, like she could see to the bottom. "How can you tell?"

"Well, I know how deep the lake is from the depth finder, and I counted out how many feet of anchor line I released, and do you feel how the boat is swinging around? That means the anchor is holding," I explain.

Moonlight bounces off her pixie features as she looks up at me with admiration. "You know a lot of stuff I didn't know you knew, Adam. All the farming equipment stuff and boating stuff and you actually understand all that structural stuff Tyler is talking about for the house..."

I take her hand and lead her off the bow and back down into the open air cock-pit. "It goes both ways. I had no idea you knew about organic gardening and harvesting and composting, and canning and cooking. Together, we could actually run a farm, you know," I tease her.

She grins. "I don't want to be a farmer, Adam. And I told you, I only like to cook fun stuff."

I hold up my hands in surrender, "I heard ya. I don't want to be a farmer either. When my dad decides to give it up, we'll hire a farm manager, and we'll just dabble when we feel like. I guess my point is...there's a lot of background we missed on each other. We've had an intense four years. Living in the moment and the music...and the bedroom." My voice is devilish as I head down into the cabin try to figure out where the light panel is. Ah. Found it. I fiddle with the sliders until I find a mix of low lighting that seems romantic.

"And living in the heat of arguments," she adds regretfully.

"Hmmmm. How about now that we are married, we keep the music, and the sex, and trade the fighting for getting to know all those things about each other we missed out on?" I'm tackling the control panel now, trying to connect to one of our phones. Apparently, Mac already figured this out during our boat tour this afternoon, because she punches throught the touch screen and pulls out her phone, opening her subscription music app.

"Deal," she says. "Here's something you apparently don't know...I'm good with tech."

"I did know that," I chide her. "So am I..." I say defensively.

"Yes, you are. You're amazing with the mixing programs," she lays a placating hand on my arm as she chooses a playlist...country love songs.

"Good choice," I murmur. I open the half fridge—there's a variety of drinks in there, plus some fresh fruit. There's even a bottle of sparkling cider. I shake my head. Years ago, I gave up trying to figure out how my mom anticipates everything, but somehow, at some point during the weekend, she stocked this boat with drinks, snacks, a first aid kit, sunscreen, shower stuff in the tiny head, pretty much everything we might need for an overnight cruise. I guess she knew we'd make an escape out here a some point.

I pull out the sparkling cider. "I think a private toast is in order, don't you?"

Mac bites her lip and nods as she opens the cabinets in the tiny galley. There's an assortment of shiny plastic barware. Mac's shoulders jump in excitement as she takes two champagne flutes out. One says "Captain" and one says "First Mate".

"Look how cute this stuff I ordered is!" She displays it like a game-show-model.

"You bought all this stuff?" I look around at all the monogrammed towels, the little decorative signs on the walls, the nautical spice rack strapped on the wall above the tiny stove.