“We’ve got to make this believable. Especially around my mom. We’ll be spending Thanksgiving with her.”
She stopped mid-step, whipping her head around. “Wait, what? I booked my flight for Friday. Why are we spending Thanksgiving with your mom?”
“We had to cut the honeymoon short. No way I’m missing my first holiday home in years. My mom, my sister… I owe them that. Even if my wife is fake.” I set my coffee on the desk, guilt threading through me as her shoulders dipped.
“Just… get dressed.”
She groaned, muttering something under her breath as she headed to the bathroom.
I called after her, “And since you’re a military wife now, I expect punctuality.”
Just as I reached the door, her voice followed, sharp and soft at the same time: “Boy, being married to a cold asshole is so great.”
Her words burrowed deep, hitting a place I didn’t want to admit existed.
By the time she walked into the hotel café, my chest ached from how hard I was trying not to react. No makeup. Messy bun. White tank top and hip-hugging jeans. She looked effortlessly lethal. That casual kind of beauty that sucker-punched you and you didn’t even notice.
Her body had me thinking of how long it’s been since I’ve held a woman or touched one—truly got lost in one. I never planned to get married, not with my occupation, so women were mainly there when I needed them—a quick release for the most part. I’ve beenthrown into danger for over a decade, and the idea of marriage scared me more than being a Tier 1 operator. To love a person day in and day out, the same ordinary shit that repeats itself over and over. No excitement, no more thrills. And I was in no condition to love a person or fall in love with one, I couldn’t, not with my line of work. Many men clung to their wives for hope to hold on, but that was cowardly and pure selfishness to me.
She picked up the coffee I’d ordered. “Thanks,” she said, voice low.
“I didn’t know how you take it, so I grabbed sugar and cream.”
“Guess we should start there, soldier.” She rifled through the packets. “Cream, but not too much. Stevia, never any of that fake crap. And cane sugar. Not the white stuff.”
“Didn’t realize I was auditioning for a barista gig.”
“Didn’t know I was applying for a bistro position.”
She glared at me as she poured her sugar in her cup of coffee.
“I like my coffee, black, with sugar. I like to wake up. I don’t drink it because it tastes like pumpkin pie.”
“I despise pumpkin spice lattes for your information.” She blew at the top of her coffee, as she eyed me over the rim.
“Whoa, could have fooled me, princess.”
Pursing her lips together, she stirred her coffee with a straw. Amusement had to be written all over my face because I could feel how excited I was getting about this. Now that we are talking about the in’s and outs of who we were, it made me feel like I was on a mission. Excitement stirred inside of me, and I couldn’t remember the last time I ever felt excited about anything. When I bought the restaurant, it was another one of my impulsive decisions, but it made me feel alive anytime the rush of customers came and I was in the kitchen, sweating and belong food get out as fast as I could, but that quickly died after I knew how much work had to be put into running a business. There was more to it than loving to cook.
“Okay, so I figured when we got back, you can get all your stuff from the lake house, and then we’ll head to my place. Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and it’s usually just my mom, sister and me,but we’ve spent it with Colt’s mom a few times. So I was thinking we could get us all together and make the announcement then.”
“Okay,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee.
“I figured the only time we have to display a little affection is when we are out in public; when we are home, we can go back to being roommates. Bunch buddies.”
She grew unusually quiet as she bit the inside of her cheek.
“Is there something wrong??”
“So when you say affection, are we talking about kissing, holding hands, hugging, sitting on your lap.”
“All of it.”
I see her body physically stiffen as soon as the words left my mouth. “What?”
“Nothing.
. I just didn’t know if there was something specific you liked or didn’t like, ya know something specific to make it seem more real.”
