My Fake Husband
Natasha L. Black
Copyright © 2021 by Natasha L. Black
All rights reserved.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Introduction
She can take my last name.
As long as I can have our baby.
Childhood crushes are fickle.
Yet this one is sweet and sticky like honey.
Trixie is in need of help, and I’m a certified hero.
Married to me, she can get the loan to buy the building her shop is in.
Our close quarters are combustible.
Flirting turns sexy.
I’ve got a bad crush on my wife.
Danger lights the fuse that smolders between us.
Fake married friends with benefits?
You could say it’s complicated.
So what happens when you really fall in love?
All I know is that I’m keeping her for good.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Hot Cop (Sample)
A Note from the Author
Books by Natasha L. Black
Connect with Natasha L. Black
1
Trixie
“He’s a bum. I’ve told you a hundred times. You have to get out from under this guy,” Kiera said.
“Believe me, I’d like to. I just can’t afford it right now. He never listens to me,” I lamented.
“Are you eating? What are you eating? I can hear you.”
“Nothing,” I said, trying to swallow too-big pieces of BBQ chips.
“It’s crunchy. It’s chips isn’t it? God, I miss chips.”
“Sis, give up the Keto. I’m telling you, pork rinds are bad news. They are not better for you than these sweet ass barbecue chips I have here. Totally wholesome. Made from potatoes, not pig fat.”
“Don’t disrespect pig fat. Bacon is excellent,” she protested.
“Yes, it is, but it’s not everything,” I told her.
“I miss potatoes so much. Sometimes I lay awake and think about how much I’d like to have, like, a real burger with a bun and some fries. Not just a big slab of meat with more meat on the side.”
“You’re allowed to have vegetables,” I said.
“I know, but vegetables suck. All the good ones are potatoes.”
“That’s it. For your birthday I’m getting you a five-pound bag of Idahos.”
“You bitch. I’d probably eat one raw,” she said. I laughed.
“What am I going to do about this pipe? I’ve looked it up on YouTube and tried to fix it myself. Six different ways. Nothing works. It’s been leaking for months and that rat bastard Jimmy won’t call me back.”
“He knows you want him to live up to his lease agreement and have the plumbing fixed before you drown in your own flower shop. So of course he’s not answering you.”
“You have a point,” I sighed.
“Tell me again why you can’t just buy the building?”
“Um, I don’t have a trust fund. It will cost thousands of dollars to fix the plumbing, plus the cost of the building and the taxes on it. I’m doing fine with the shop, and I make my house payments on time, but I just got my industrial cooler paid off last year. I don’t have enough collateral for the bank to take a chance on me. I’m a small business owner in a small town. And I’m a woman. Unmarried,” I smirked to myself.
“So if you were an unmarried man with a business they’d be like, look how dedicated he is to his work, he’s going to be successful, let’s give him the loan? Once he’s established, he’ll start a family. But with you it’s like, she’s wasting those ovaries working all the time, and she’s not getting any younger. I know.”
“Yeah. And my ovaries are over here, creaking with age, mumbling about how I’m too busy to even go out with anyone.”
“You could always deliver flowers to the fire station by mistake,” Kiera teased.
“That’s a stupid mistake. The fire department is all men. Who sends flowers to a guy? I mean, not in a sexist way, but we are in rural North Carolina. It’s not like traditional masculinity isn’t loud and proud.”
“You’re missing the point—stay with me here. You can be like, ‘oh, I must’ve written the address down wrong, silly me! Why, Damon, I’d forgotten you worked here. How have you been?’”
“You’re doing a stupid high-pitched voice. I do not sound like that,” I said.
“You so do. Besides, he’s still single, right?”
‘Yeah. I can’t figure out why. I mean, look at him. Tall, great body, gorgeous smile—he’s a fireman, and he coaches little league. His resume says boyfriend material, but that grin says let’s do it in the truck right now.”
“So that’s your kink? Doing it in his truck? Honey, he was a hound dog in high school, but I think he probably has better tricks than pickup truck sex by now. Why won’t you just ask him out?”
“Kiera, I realize you’re married and don’t remember having to date. In fact, you never had to date as an adult with a job and responsibilities and the horror of having to look him in the eye every time you see him in town the rest of your life if he says no and that he thinks of me as a friend or more likely that he doesn’t think of me at all,” I blurted out.
“Well, that’s a lot. Listen to me, Tig,” I smiled when she used my childhood nickname. “I know he’s good-looking, and he’s a good guy. But he’s no better than you.”
“I never wanted to be another one in a long list of—conquests?” I asked. “Is that what they’re called?”
“Fuck buddies,” my little sister supplied. “Hook-ups. Whatever. If you ask him out, don’t say conquest, it’s so uptight.”
“I’m not offering to be Damon Vance’s,” I dropped my voice to a whisper even though I was alone, “fuck buddy.”
“Come on! Have some fun. Also, whoever said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach didn’t know the truth.”
“I’m so afraid of what you’re going to say right now.”
“His dick. That’s the way to his heart. I knew this at nineteen! How do you not know this?”
“If you try to tell me dirty sex things you did to my brother-in-law when you were a teenager, I’m going to puke in the sink. Please stop. And the only man I’m dealing with right now is Jimmy the landlord.”
“That is absolutely no fun. Damon would be way more fun. You know he would be.”
“Yes, he’d be fun. He’s a fun person and a good guy, but he’s not for me. I want more than a hook up with a hot fireman.”
“If you have the option of a hookup with a hot fireman, take it. I would if I wasn’t, you know, married till death do us part,” she sighed. “I really want some chips.”
“I love you. Goodbye,” I said,
hanging up.
How had a call with my sister, who I missed so much since she moved to Savannah, end up being all about Damon Vance? We grew up in the same little town, our moms were friends, and he was always nice, but he was older, and we didn’t know each other, not really. I knew the way his stubble glinted with a flicker of blonde in the auburn when he was overdue for a shave. I knew that he was the damn hottest specimen of man God ever put on this earth. I also knew that he was a playboy.
Women threw themselves at him. I’d seen it happen in a bar, at the diner, once at the public library downtown. They went overboard with the flirting and asking him to help with a button or a bracelet or reaching something off a shelf, and then they touched him as if by accident. He was like woman catnip. I wasn’t about to try to compete with that or become part of that crowd. I sighed out loud and the bell on my door jingled. I turned and nearly choked when I saw the man himself.
As if I’d conjured him up, Damon stood in front of me. Six foot three, broad and strong, exactly the kind of firefighter that they put on calendars for fundraisers. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, nothing fancy, no sexy uniform and hat or anything. But he was plenty hot enough to make me fumble around with my cell phone, which I was still holding in my hand while I had been thinking about him. I knew color rushed to my cheeks. I felt warm and flustered around him.
“Hi,” I said, my voice going chirpy.
“Good to see you Trixie,” he said. “How’s the flower business?”
“Oh, it’s—blooming,” I said and then put my face in my hands. “Why did I say that? Ugh! It’s fine. The flower business is fine and not completely cheesy like what I just said. I—guess I’m tired or something. I usually answer questions like a normal person.”
I was babbling like a thirteen-year-old faced with her crush. Then he smiled at me kindly.
“You were probably real busy when I came in, and I just startled you is all. Now I was hoping you could help me pick out some flowers for my little sister. Laura’s having a baby.”
“That’s great! Her and Brody make a real cute couple,” I said.
He smiled again. “Yeah, they really are. It’s super weird still that my best friend is married to my little sister, but they really are happy. So I’m happy. I just want to show them that.”
“Well, I seem to recall ‘say it with flowers’ was a slogan way back when. You can’t go wrong with roses, but if they seem too serious, daisies are a sweet choice.”
“Roses do seem a little formal,” he said, “I never thought about it that way, but I always thought roses were for lovers.”
“And funerals,” I pointed out. “Sorry. I don’t know why I don’t have a filter today. It’s just that a lot of people order roses for casket arrangements—partly because they symbolize love and partly because they’re showy and expensive.” I said. Why did I keep talking? Why?
“If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re awful cute when you’re embarrassed,” he said with a wink.
Oh my God. Damon said I was cute and winked at me. I wanted to do a fan girl squeal like a total moron, but I’d save that for later. I was shocked that I managed to keep from humiliating myself further and just smiled at him a little shyly.
“So embarrassment’s a big turn-on for you?” I blurted out.
Jesus. Why? Why did I go there? I was so awkward that I wished there was a Socializing Police that could come by and shoot me with a tranquilizer dart to put me out of my misery.
He grinned, looking a little bashful himself, “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. He was doing his adorable Southern gentlemen routine now.
“I’m sorry. I cannot be held responsible for what I do with my mouth today.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“What comes out of my mouth, I mean. I won’t blame you if you just turn around and walk out, I swear. Damon, I’m sorry.” I was blushing red as a beet, and I knew it.
This was why I never had a chance in hell with the man. I acted like a fool every time he spoke to me, always had. It was like my IQ fell out or something. I was so embarrassed I wanted to crouch down and hide behind the counter with the ribbon. Maybe if I did that, he’d just go away. I was about ready to burst into humiliated tears.
Then he laughed. He had such a good laugh. It vibrated through me and made me feel less miserable.
“I haven’t had a laugh like that in a good few weeks, Trixie. I’m sure glad I came in here today. There’s nobody who makes me smile like you do, I swear.”
I felt myself just glow when he said that. Even if it was something you’d say to make a really awkward kid sister feel better, I was going to take the compliment with more grace than I’d done anything else thus far.
“Thank you, Damon. That’s kind of you since I’m making an idiot of myself today.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he said, and his handsome face, those aqua blue eyes looked so sincere that I started to melt under that gaze. “You’ve got a real way of making people comfortable. I bet that’s part of why your shop is doing so well. That, and your flowers are almost as pretty as you are.”
I leaned on the counter, placing me about four inches away from where he leaned on the counter. I blinked fast, trying to absorb the impact of Damon saying I was pretty. I didn’t preen or touch my hair. I just looked him square in his eyes and wished he’d kiss me when the fact was it crossed my mind that he was close enough that he could. I could feel the warmth coming off his skin, but it made me shiver for some reason. A few seconds of silence, and it was like electricity was zinging around between us like lines of lightning trailing all over the shop. I wasn’t sure if that was chemistry or if I was just that attracted to him.
I was close enough I could see that he’d shaved, that his perfect square jaw was smooth. His eyes looked tired, I thought. There was tightness at the corner of his mouth that I wanted to smooth away. I thought wildly of touching him, pressing my fingertip to the corner of his mouth, maybe leaning closer to see if he’d kiss me. Thirty seconds of eye contact and the man could melt my panties right off. As it was, I shifted back a little, broke the moment off, my thighs pressed together.
“So can I get you some daisies for Laura?”
“That’d be real nice,” he said.
“It was nice of you to come get flowers here when the grocery store’s got them right by the checkout. I get a lot of funerals and some weddings, Valentine’s Day, but most people, they just buy the ten-dollar mixed bouquet when they’re getting ground beef and toilet paper,” I said.
“That doesn’t seem very special. If you’re gonna say it with flowers that kind of says, ‘I’m lazy.’ I don’t buy my beer at the grocery store because I want something good. I go down to the liquor store because it’s worth the trouble. Just like this.”
“So my flowers are like good beer,” I said wryly.
“You could say that. But I stand by what I said earlier. They’re just about as pretty as you are.”
“I—I’m not great with compliments. Or with talking to people apparently. But thank you.”
“No need to thank me. I’m not the one that made your face that way. I just pointed out the obvious. You probably hear it all the time.”
“Not really, no. I mean, I was an awfully awkward kid.”
“I might remember you running around with skinned knees and a ponytail a long time ago,” he said with a smile that was almost fond. “But that’s been a few years. You had that killer smile. You still do,” he laughed.
I thought he was so adorable I could die. Also, if fourteen-year-old me had known he even looked at me twice I would’ve died of a heart attack. I blinked at him, needing to change the subject before I totally geeked out.
“I’m glad your dad is doing better. My mom said that your mom told her his new medicine was really helping. I know he’s had a hard time.”
“Yeah. It’s been a big help. And those flowers you sent when he was in the hospital were real nice. And my mom really liked that
wax melting thing you sent along with it.”
“I’m glad. Hospitals always smell bad, and you can’t burn a candle cause of the oxygen, so those wax warmers let you have a little cinnamon smell to make it more homey.”
“Well she uses it all the time at home. I got excited the other day, thought there was apple pie. Fooled me, too,” he said, shaking his head.
I wrapped a bunch of daisies in tissue paper and passed him a card that said congratulations. He signed it and then paid me the total.
“I bet she’ll really like these,” I said. “It’s sweet of you to do that for your sister.”
“Thanks for your help. You have a good day,” he said. Then he gave me the panty-melting smile one more time and left.
I sagged against the counter and wondered if I wanted a cigarette or a new vibrator after that encounter. Maybe both.
2
Damon
The diner was always packed on Saturday morning. Rachel’s pies were excellent, but her pastries were incredible. Her apple Danish was legendary, and if you didn’t go early, you’d miss out on them.
So Brody and I drank our coffee and waited for the final batch to come out of the oven. We had already eaten our eggs and sausage, and both of us were usually in a hurry. Him because he wanted to get home to my sister, and me because I had a shift at the fire station or I was going to work out or check in on my parents. But we had decided to loiter until we could score those Danishes this time.
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