Asher gives a low whistle but doesn’t say anything else. I texted Brayden when we were five minutes out, but when the driver parks, no one’s outside to greet me.
“Thanks,” I say to the driver, before realizing I don’t have any cash to tip him with. “I can get my bags.”
I climb out of the vehicle—and so does Asher, who immediately goes to the popped trunk.
“Really,” I protest, “my suitcases aren’t that heavy.”
Asher casts a long look at the house, the darkened windows and unmoving front door. “Forsyth doesn’t know that.”
It’s blunt, way too much for some guy who I just met. Something in my gut flares. I’ve made my own choices to end up on Brayden’s pristine driveway, in front of a house so new it probably smells like paint fumes. Brayden is going to be my husband for the next two years. Part of my literal job is to make sure he looks good to other people. Especially his teammates.
I clench my jaw so hard I feel an answering throb in my head.Don’t. As if migraines ever listen. “I’m fine. I don’t want to keep you.”
That gets the slight rise of Asher’s dark eyebrows. His eyelashes are black without mascara. I’m not noticing anything about them or about the rest of him, and he needs to get the hell out of this driveway so I can concentrate on important thingslike unloading my suitcases and carrying them into my shiny, ugly new house.
The trunk is unlatched. I push it open all the way and contemplate how to get my first case out of the car and onto the ground.Poor little rich girl has to haul her own luggage.
It’s only one suitcase, a lift of all of five feet. I seize it, bend with my knees, suck in a breath that’s mostly hot, humid Southern air. I have it halfway to the ground when the muscles in my back and arms start to shake. Then, suddenly, the suitcase lightens.
Asher, grabbing its side handle, pulling the suitcase from my grip. “Here, princess, I got this.”
Princess.I hate that word, particularly said in that tone. But he lowers the suitcase to the pavement, then repeats the process with the next one, the corded muscles in his arms standing out with effort. “What’d you pack in these, anyway?” he asks.
“My favorite rock collection, obviously.”
“To match that one on your finger, no doubt.” He eyes the house again, then holds out something—his phone. “Put your number in. Call if you need anything.”
I shouldn’t. What would Brayden think if he saw this—me typing my number in his teammate’s phone? “Will that get you to leave?” I ask Asher.
Asher snorts. “Yeah.”
“Fine.” I type in my number and give him back his phone.
A second later, a text comes through.A wink emoji. “So you remember the consequences of losing an eye.”
What about the consequences of befriending my fake husband’s teammate?“Thank you for your help. Really, I can get my luggage from here.”
Asher gives me a long look, then mutters something that sounds a lot like,You shouldn’t have to.
And I try not to think about that, or about his gaze on my back, as I wheel my suitcases up the front path and into the start of my brand-new life.
Chapter Seven
Savannah
July
When I getto the front door, I knock twice and ring the bell for good measure. I should have asked Brayden to mail me a key. I can’t hear anyone walking around inside. It’s possible he forgot I was coming by the house.
So I knock. And wait. And knock. And wait. Text an impatientI’m outsidethat gets marked delivered but not read.
“Brayden—” I call, in a tone that’s vastly morewhat the fuckthan newlyweddopily in love. I’ll work on my tone just as soon as I can get out of this damn heat.
Finally, after a solid five minutes, I try the door.
The knob turns. It swings open. I resist the urge to yell in frustration, too grateful for the coolness of air conditioning in my face. Once I get inside and unpacked, the first thing I’m doing is ordering one of those little portable misting fans.
I prop open the door with my foot and haul in one suitcase and then the other. From the outside, the house looked likea tacky McMansion, with the windows all different from one another. Inside it looks…blank. No pictures on the walls. No decorations besides the furniture, which is mostly white and metal. Light bounces off the walls, making my head throb.
