My toothbrush dangles out of the corner of my mouth as I type out a quick email. I set my phone down with a delighted smirk. This guy will be melting in my hands before we even meet up. Every cent of that fifty thousand dollars will be earned.
I almost forgetabout the upcoming husband experience since the only reminder I have is the notation in my calendar. The reminder comes in abruptly at the end of June when Claire forwards me an email with the location of choice. Colby’s chosen a gorgeous beach house for the week.
But Florida? My eyes basically roll back into my brain. Of all the places in the world, I’m going to have to spend a week playing husband in the armpit of America. Great. Superb. Excellent.
The address is for a very expensive beach home, per my googling. It’s not a rental, which surprises me. Further googling shows that the house was bought years ago for a cool couple million dollars. Not too shabby.
On the bright side, I don’t have to catch a long flight to get where I’m going, considering I live in Georgia. I’ll just make thefive-hour drive down, listen to some beachy country songs, and then I’ll also have my car in case I need to make a fast escape.
I pack a wide array of outfits from beachy to dressy to slutty in hopes that I pack something that makes my fake husband happy. I’m well used to dressing for my boyfriends.
The drive passes by quickly as I blare a random playlist of beach music through my car’s Bluetooth. I roll the windows down as I approach the water, unable to hold myself back from feeling the glorious ocean breeze on my face.
My GPS directs me to come to a stop in front of a three-story light blue beach house. Everything about the place screams beach, from the color of the house, to the white rocking chairs on the balconies, and the wide-open windows that show me a view of the breathtaking ocean beyond. For just a moment, I stand there taking in the scent, letting the salty air wash over me like a balm.
After grabbing my suitcase out of the car, I take the weathered stairs up to the entrance of the house. I consider knocking for a brief moment, but that doesn’t seem like something a husband would do. Wouldn’t a husband just walk right into his own vacation home? So I take a deep, steadying breath and push through the heavy front door.
The house is eerily quiet. If I hadn’t seen the car out front, I would assume that the house is empty.
I drop my suitcase by the front entrance and start to explore the large house. Everything inside is white but there are light and dark blue accents throughout. The house radiates calm. The inside smells just like the outside, like the ocean and warm salt air. The sound of the waves breaking against the shore echoes through the house. I run my fingers through my unruly hair, hoping it’s still as presentable as it was when I styled it earlier in the morning.
Movement from the balcony at the back of the house gets my attention. A man slowly stands from where he’d been leaning against the railing. All I can see is broad shoulders, a strong back, and sandy-blond hair. Even without seeing his face, he’s not what I thought he was going to be.
As if Colby senses my gaze on him, he slowly turns around. Our eyes lock through the large window facing the ocean. An odd shiver rolls its way through my body. I swallow loudly and my fingers twitch aimlessly at my side.
Colby is breathtakingly gorgeous. Bigger than me by a few inches and also quite a bit broader. One or two days’ worth of stubble dots his square jaw. I’ve been paid by a lot of people to have sex with them and usually I get by with faking attraction, just worrying about making the experience good for them.
I won’t have to do any faking with Colby.
He aims one last look at the ocean over his shoulder, then opens the sliding glass door to come inside.
“Elijah?” Colby asks with a crooked smile.
Oh no. He’s got a deep voice and a southern accent. My two greatest weaknesses. He might as well be my kryptonite.
“Yes.”
Colby smiles softly. His entire face warms with his grin, even the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes are endearing. He radiates kindness, something I rarely get in these experiences.
Colby clears his throat awkwardly. “Hello, husband.”
I swallow again, feeling all sorts of unmoored. “Eli.”
“Eli?” Colby asks with a little furrow between his eyebrows. God, even that is cute. Holy hell.
“Yes,” I say after clearing my throat. “My husband should call me Eli.”
A wicked smile crosses Colby’s face as he steps just a little closer. Oh God. He smells amazing too, like expensive, musky cologne and something earthy. Like the smell in the air before astorm. A large hand comes up to caress my face, his thumb tilts my head up so that our gazes meet.
“Alright, husband.” His dark blue eyes shift between mine, looking straight into me. “It’s nice to meet you, Eli. Are you ready to be mine for a week?”
I nod because suddenly my mouth is too dry for me to even attempt forming words. My mouth is basically the Sahara. Colby just smiles as if he knows exactly how hard my brain is short-circuiting at the very sight of him. He dips down to press a gentle kiss to the hinge of my jaw, then slowly pulls away. Tangling our fingers together, he tugs me towards the kitchen.
“Want something to drink?” Colby asks, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge. The man doesn’t even wait for me to answer. Instead, he just hands me the bottle after opening it for me.
The cold water does a good job waking my brain back up after I quickly gulp half of it down. I don’t usually get so tongue-tied around people. Talking isn’t an issue for me, I never feel off-center, and I always know what to say … but looking at Colby has me all sorts of messed up. I don’t know how else to explain it. His presence is a lightning strike to my nervous system.
Colby takes my hand back in his and starts to show me the house. He’s got great arms. Great everything really. His hair is the perfect shade of ashy blond, the kind I always wished for as a young kid, because I got stuck with my biological father’s dark hair, skin tone, and everything else.
