Ican’t take my eyes off her plump lips as she leans into me. “What if your wife wants to sleep on the couch?” she breathes.
The couch is fucking uncomfortable—I know from experience. There’s no way anyone would actually want to sleep on it. I suspect what she wants is for me to carry her to bed.
I can do that—anytime.
I force my gaze to her eyes. “If my wife is more comfortable falling asleep watching the stars from the couch, then I’m more than happy to carry her to bed.” There. That should settle it.
Willow’s eyes widen, irises ablaze—a beautiful spectacle. The tip of her nose twitches almost imperceptibly, but I catch it. Her neck turns rosy.
She straightens. “I’ll get to work,” she says, clamping the stack of prints in one hand and clutching her coffee mug in the other.
I jump off my chair to get the door for her. Our bodies are close, too close and yet not close enough. She doesn’t take a stepback, although there’s ample place to. She doesn’t look away. I expect her to say something snarky, but she softens.
“What?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze glides down to my lips. I want to kiss her so bad, it’s painful.
The irony is, if she weren’t my wife—my fake wife—I probably would. Her body language tells me she wants this. Hell, what she said last night when we were half naked surrounded by ghosts told the same story.
“You’re even more beautiful when you’re all flustered,” I whisper back. “I’d add it to the spreadsheet, but it’s not something I can ever forget.” Then I step back, open the door wide for her, and say in a voice as normal as I can, “Call if you need help.”
She all but runs away.
I spend the next hour fighting my erection by doing all sorts of unnecessary tasks that fill my time while keeping me off the shop floor. I’m opening and closing my email for the millionth time when our mail lady comes in. “You didn’t have to come all the way here,” I say as I stand to greet her.
“Just need a signature, Mr. Callaway.”
I scribble my name on the card attached to an envelope. “Noah.” I correct her. She’s my father’s age—they went to school together. You’d think she’d drop the Mister.
She hands me a thick envelope. “Thanks, Mr. Callaway.”
I chuckle and smile.Old habits die hard.I just wish people didn’t treat me like I was better than. Because I’m not.
The top-left corner of the envelope indicates this comes from Mrs. Gail Callaway. I tense up, though I’m not surprised. Last night, Beck told me she’d been spotted in town, and he was asking if there was anything to worry about.
I reassured him there wasn’t, but this letter can’t be good news. I slice through the envelope, unfold the document, and reach for my phone.
“Hey, Noah, I only have a minute.” Tamberly’s out of breath and there are voices in the background. “Going into a hearing. What’s up?”
I read the title of the document, Notice of Concern Regarding Trust Execution, then sum it up for her as I skim through it. “She’s claiming the marriage is false.” My stomach sinks. I should have seen it coming.
“Not surprised,” Tamberly says. “Scan me a copy, will ya?”
“What’s our next step?”
“Nothing. She’s trying to scare you, wants you to engage. We just wait it out.”
“How worried should I be?”
“Nothin’ to worry about. You married Willow for love. How’s she gonna prove you didn’t? Very hard to prove a negative, especially if it’s not there.”
I can think of fifteen thousand, six hundred and twenty-two reasons on Willow’s side (give or take a few cents), and a few millions on mine. But I can’t tell Tamberly that. I’d disappoint her as a person. And I’d make her life as a lawyer much harder than it needs to be.
I wonder if she senses my hesitation, because she says, “Right?”
“Correct,” I say.Gail can’t find anything to prove my marriage isn’t real.“Anything I can do at this point?”
“Stop worrying. Though I would say, if you and Willow were planning on starting a family anytime soon, now would be a good time. There’s nothing like a pregnancy to kill the rumor of a fake marriage.”
Right. Perfect. Excellent. On it, Tamberly.A vision of Willow manifests in my mind’s eye, her belly rounding with my child. I suddenly feel very hot. “Thanks. Talk to you soon.” I hang up and stare into nothingness for a while. Then I go get a cup of awful coffee, just to give the next five minutes a purpose. Fromthe corner of my eye, I can see Willow crouched on all fours, her ass pointed at me like a tease. She’s papered the windows almost to the ceiling with what from here looks like… I’m not sure. I left my glasses on my desk somewhere in the middle of my phone conversation.
