My Fake Husband

by Black, Natasha L.

  “Humor me. Let’s act like I’ll recover from the planned divorce like a healthy person who’s not obsessed with Damon, okay?”

  “Fine, well, there’s Drew and Noah. We don’t have a ton of single men around town in case you didn’t notice, babe.”

  “Noah’s a builder, right?”

  “Yes. Do you never pay attention?”

  “Nope, I’m all about my shop, you know that. And a boatload of sangria now. He builds stuff, that’d be handy to have around if something breaks around here and needs fixing. A man with skills,” I said half-heartedly.

  “I’m sure he’d love to be pursued for his handyman ability,” she said wryly.

  “Okay, then I’m screwed because Drew is off the books,” I said.

  Michelle hesitated for a moment, then said, “why?”

  I laughed. “You know why,” I told her. “You two have too much damn history.”

  “History, schmistory,” she said.

  “Michelle. I’m not going to go after your ex,” I said firmly.

  “Probably a good thing. He’d just break your heart anyway,” she said.

  I didn’t want to bring her down by talking about how Drew had hurt her, so I changed the subject.

  “So, what does Noah check out when he comes in?”

  “Kid books. Not macho stuff like Damon does. That man’s a book-reading machine. Oh, hey, tell your husband I got in the books he ordered. They just came in this afternoon. A bio on Jack Pritchard he’s been waiting for.”

  “Who?”

  “Engine 255? The guy that took major burns to save that baby whose crib was on fire? He was only the most decorated FDNY fireman in history. Maybe you should hang out at the library and read more, huh?” she teased.

  “So he reads about daring firefighters?”

  “He reads about all kinds of stuff. Since you live with him, I figured you knew that. You could come to the book club sometime, you know?”

  “You’ve been trying to recruit me for ages. What am I supposed to be reading this month?”

  “The Iliad.”

  “Trojan horse? Helen and Paris? I know the story.”

  “Please do not show up and say ‘Trojan horse, Helen and Paris, got it’ at the meeting. I kind of like people to read the actual book before trying to discuss it,” Michelle said.

  “You are a book snob.”

  “You are practically a nonreader, but I love you anyway. Mainly because you’re buying me drinks tonight. You’re not canceling.”

  “That’s right. I’m not,” I said, and hung up.

  I was excited to go out with my friends. I just knew that in my heart I’d rather hang out on the couch watching eighties flicks with my fake husband. I’d even bought gummy bears for our next film festival because he loved them. It was kind of pathetic that I knew that and hoped seeing gummy bears by the remote would make him think of me and want to watch something together. I was relying on gummy bears to get a man’s attention. It may have crossed over into pathetic territory. I was afraid to talk to him and get brushed off about the kiss, but I also longed to spend time with him. It was so, so bad.

  18

  Damon

  I was called back to work early despite my suspension with two guys out with the flu. I was taking on shifts left and right because the other guys had kids at home. Sure, I could say no when the chief asked if I could cover another double, but when I knew Tyler had a new baby at home, and when Ryan’s daughter had her third birthday party… I couldn’t turn it down. Not when they are as good as brothers to me, and the best gift I could give Poppy, Ryan’s little girl, was to let her have her daddy there when she blew out her candles. So the difference between him missing out on a milestone with his kid and me missing out on the plan to watch Beverly Hills Cop 1 and 2 with my pretend wife wasn’t really comparable.

  Flu season had come early and was kicking ass this year. I had heard my mom telling Brody he should make sure no one at the police station sneezed near my pregnant sister or himself. Like he could send them home for the sniffles. But the flu was no joke this year. I’d had my shot early when we did the free flu shot clinic at the fire station about a month and a half ago, so I was one of the last men standing. All these macho firefighters who don’t think they ever catch the flu so why get a shot? They were all moaning in the fetal position and demanding chicken soup while I do their jobs now.

  I was a little disappointed not to get to spend Saturday night with Trixie, but I wasn’t going to whine about it.

  “You sure about me taking off?” Tyler asked as he got his stuff together.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. You’ve got the baby to take care of. And I bet Penny could use the rest.”

  “And a shower. Getting a shower is a huge deal to her right now. I guess she’s just tired.”

  “Dude, go pick up a pizza on the way home and tell her to take a long shower, don’t hurry,” I said. “Rock the baby. Give him a kiss from me.”

  “You can come give him a kiss yourself when you get time. You’ve only seen him twice,” he said.

  “I’ll bring food. My mom will make some kind of casserole you can heat up, I’m sure.”

  “That’d be great. It’s awesome, I mean he’s the cutest, tiniest little thing ever, but, dang can he scream. And has to eat like four times a night. It’s nonstop, man,” he shook his head ruefully, but he was grinning.

  “Maybe get your wife some flowers next week. Just shilling Trixie’s shop and everything, but Penny could probably use the encouragement.”

  “You’re like the relationship whisperer. It’s only a matter of time before you have a couple little ones of your own running around. Your sister’s having one, and you’re married now. That kid’s gonna need cousins, and I can’t imagine you wasting any time now that you’ve got a wife at home,” he said.

  “Are you wishing sleepless nights and an unshowered wife on me?” I laughed.

  “Yeah, it’s the greatest fucking thing ever,” he said with a goofy smile. “And you coach Little League. It’s not like you don’t love kids.”

  “I do love kids. I can’t wait to spoil yours. And my sister’s kid when it comes. I’ll be the fun uncle, teach them to drive when they’re thirteen on the back roads, buy ‘em all the stuff their parents say is too expensive… that’s the way to go,” I said, trying to seem cheerful.

  “Don’t act like you don’t wanna be a dad. Come on!” Tyler said. “You’re not fooling anybody here. I keep expecting you to pass out cigars any day now and say Damon Junior is on his way. You’d have that kid in a baby-sized fireman’s helmet and holding a baseball bat before he could stand up.”

  I had to hold back the smile that threatened to break out on my face. Because for one split second, I forgot that it wasn’t real. I had a flash of hope that it could happen, that Trixie and I could have a little baby or four. Raise a family, watch her bending low over a bush to explain to the kids what kind of flower bloomed there and how to care for it, raise them to watch Die Hard every Christmas. Well, maybe every Christmas after they were twelve because of the language. If it were true, it would be fantastic, I thought. But it wasn’t. It was a dumb story I told myself for three minutes before I remembered it was fake, and I was just the co-applicant on her business loan. A family friend doing her a favor.

  She didn’t want to have kids at all, as far as I knew. And even if she did, I figured she, like most people, would prefer to have those kids with someone she loved. Not, you know, her fake husband. I missed her, missed hanging out with her and cooking and watching movies and making her laugh so hard that she snorted. I had even loved tucking her in at night when she fell asleep on the couch. Taking care of her made me happy. It also made me greedy. I wanted to be the person she would turn to for help and encouragement, to make her laugh, to help her solve a problem. I wanted to be her husband and the father of her children.

  I wanted to make it real. Sitting at a fire station while the other guys were home with their famili
es—with or without a bad case of the flu—it made me realize what I wanted. A reason to turn down over time, a reason to be home early, and a reason to hate dragging myself out of bed with the alarm. My wife.

  My phone was in my hand, ready to text her, to ask her to wait up for me, to plan a midnight movie marathon and I’d bring the wine. I got a message from her instead.

  Hope you have an easy shift. Going out with Mich and Nic.

  I was disappointed, I’ll admit it. Not that she had friends or plans or a life outside of our house. Disappointed that I didn’t get to ask her to wait up, to anticipate coming home to her on the couch in her pajamas, maybe her cute silky ones, with popcorn ready to pop. Somehow the idea of her waiting there for me had taken on a magical quality. I yearned for it.

  She’d been working so hard and doing so much of the renovation herself that I knew she needed a break. Hell, she needed a vacation, not that she’d take one when business was so good. She’d turned down my help when I offered. The only time she’d sort of accepted it was when I was on suspension and my mom had needed more help with my dad that day, so I’d had to skip out on the shop. I’d spent the day at my parents’ house then, wishing I was with my wife instead. My mom had gone to her doctor’s appointment and had her hair colored and I had mentally cursed the home health aid who had taken the day off so I had to spend it there. I loved my dad, and I loved talking firefighting with him. I felt guilty for my restlessness that day, and I had even watched Backdraft for the six millionth time with him to make up for it. But my heart hadn’t been in it. Now I was at work missing her, wishing I could be with her instead.

  It was going to be a long shift if I moped the whole time. Instead, I got busy. I inventoried our safety equipment, which wasn’t due to be finished till Tuesday. I cleaned out the fridge and scrubbed the shelves. There were no calls, but I kept busy. Well, I kept my hands busy, but my mind was on Trixie. The chief came in to take over, and I told him Patrick was asleep in the bunkroom.

  “You busted your ass tonight. What’s going on?” he said suspiciously, taking in the sparkling clean kitchen.

  “Nothing. I’ll take the trash out when I go.”

  “Not nothing. I can’t get you boys to throw out the expired crap in that fridge for nothin’. Y’all would rather run into a burning building than clean. So what’s up?”

  “Nothing’s up, chief,” I said. “Just trying to keep busy on a slow night.”

  “It was nice of you to cover for Ryan so he didn’t miss the birthday party. I’m sure he’ll return the favor one day soon. When’re you and Trixie gonna start a family anyway? Or is that a sore subject? I know she’s got a job, one of them independent women, I guess,” he said, making his opinion pretty clear.

  “We’re both pretty busy,” I said, bristling at the question, at the obvious judgment of my wife for wanting to run her shop instead of staying at home gestating my offspring.

  “You trying to pick up over time for a blessed event? When you’ll want some time off? You can tell me. I won’t tell a soul,” he said, chuckling.

  “No news,” I said briskly, brushing off my hands and tying up the garbage bag before I heaved it out of the can. “Hope you have a good night.”

  I left, not wanting to discuss my procreation plans with my boss, the old chauvinist. I normally didn’t mind the guy, but he was all up in my business over this, and I felt like my sexual habits and contraception choices were private. Like I wasn’t the guy who made jokes about my coworkers knocking up their wives and girlfriends, like I didn’t get Doug an economy box of condoms when they announced their fourth baby on the way. Like I was above a tasteless joke—no, it was just that I was sensitive about this topic. I kind of groaned at myself for being able to dish it out but not wanting to take the same teasing.

  It was eerie in the quiet house without her there. My stomach twisted at the knowledge that she’d move out in a few months, and it would be this way every night when I came home. Cranking up the hot water, I took a long shower, tried to get my head on straight.

  I was just drying off when I heard a noise in the house. I wrapped a towel around my waist and eased the door open quietly. Instead of an intruder, I saw my wife fumbling with the front door deadbolt trying to refasten it. Her purse was by her feet so I guess she’d dropped it, and that was the sound I’d heard. I ducked back into the bathroom and I adjusted the towel so it was more secure around my waist. I stepped out into the hallway and bumped into Trixie who had moved faster than I thought possible. She crashed into me. I grabbed her arm to steady her so she didn’t lose her balance, but as I did, my towel dropped to the floor.

  She bit her lip, stepped back from me for a second and, honest to God, the woman looked me up and down like I was something nice she was considering buying for herself, a treat in a shop window. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it, the heat in her eyes, the flush of appreciation on her cheeks. I worked hard to look the way I did, and I was proud that she looked at me like she appreciated the view. She stopped chewing her lip and looked up, met my eyes with a sly grin.

  That woman would be the death of me. She raised one eyebrow, mischievous and questioning. Then she practically jumped on me. Her arms were around me, and then her legs were around me, my hands under the curve of her ass to hold her. She looked right at me, not diving in with kisses and nips, but looking right in my eyes.

  “Damon,” she said.

  “Glad you remember my name, Trix,” I said with a half-smile. It was hard to smile. This felt intense and serious.

  “I know who you are,” she said. “I had way more tacos than I had margaritas. I only drank one. I’m not even tipsy.” She was looking me dead in the eyes and that look went straight to my cock.

  “Good, because I have a policy about not taking advantage of drunk women.”

  “Pro tip: don’t talk about drunk women when you’re wife’s trying to climb your naked body in the hall,” she said.

  “Like a tree, huh?” I said archly.

  I smirked at her and backed her into the wall, my mouth taking hers, all slow lick and exploring, swallowing her soft moan and pressing her into the wall with my body.

  19

  Trixie

  I tried to be quiet, to sneak in and go to my room in case Damon was already asleep. I never planned to wake him, despite the fact he was on my mind. Going out with the girls had only reinforced how strong my feelings were for him. They were both on board with me telling him the truth, being brave and being honest. I was steeling myself for an awkward breakfast declaration the next morning. I wasn’t ready to be face to-pecs with his naked body that was still hot and wet from the shower. I know I swore under my breath when he bumped into me, solid and sexy. He grabbed my arm so I didn’t fall from the impact of crashing into his big, Marvel hero-style muscular chest. And his towel surrendered. There he was in all his glory. I am not ashamed to say I stepped back to get a better look, to rake my gaze over him like he was the dessert cart and I was on a diet.

  Everything about him was gorgeous, lightly tanned, every curve and line and hollow strong and cut. His powerful legs told the story of those early morning runs he took, and his shoulders spoke of pushups and free weights, and so did the sculpted chest and arms. The abs were great, but they were just skimmed over by my gaze as I feasted my lucky eyes on his narrow hips and his long, thick cock, already at half-mast. It was so much bigger than I had remembered, and I remembered it as romance-novel-legendary-sized.

  “I’m going to have you tonight,” he growled, his mouth on my neck, hot kisses trailing down my throat.

  “Yes,” I said, “definitely.” I nodded my head for emphasis and accidentally hit him in the head with my chin.

  “Oof!” he said, sending us both into a fit of laughter.

  He maneuvered us into the bedroom, our kisses growing messy and urgent. Damon backed up to the bed and sat down, holding me in his lap, his hands everywhere on my body. He tilted my face up so our lips met, hungry
and frantic, his teeth nipping my bottom lip. I didn’t cling or hold on. In fact, I was focused on removing as much of my clothing as possible since he didn’t have any on. I tugged at my cute wrap top that I’d worn to the bar, but kept getting tangled in the string that I needed to untie.

  “Here, let me,” he said against my lips. I leaned back a little and he threaded his fingers through the silky ribbon, untying it deftly and parting the crossover front of my top. “There,” he said, and dipped his head to take my nipple in his mouth. I hadn’t worn a bra, partly to be comfortable and partly because I had this fantasy of him stripping my top off and finding me braless. That was a dream that had come true now. I shivered and trembled as I shoved my fingers through his hair and held his face to my breast. He sucked and licked, dragged his teeth along it until my nipple was an aching spike at the tip, my breasts heavy with longing. I wriggled on his lap. His hand in the small of my back brought me flush against him, and I felt his hard cock bob against my bare stomach. I groaned, “God, I want you. I want you inside me, Vance.”

  He growled against my breast, nipped me with his teeth, making me arch into him. I ground against his thigh insistently. I felt his lips curve in a smile as I shoved the sleeves off my arms and let my top fall to the floor. I rose up on my knees above him, my breasts in his face, and my hair fell around us. I smiled at him, and he looked up at me with this perfect expression of hot arousal and pure joy.

  “I’ve regretted it ever since that night, that I didn’t try to make you sleep in here and stay with me. I would’ve taken you a dozen more ways. But most of all, I wish I’d kept you on top of me. I will this time. Only don’t leave and go back to your room. Promise,” he said, his breath hot on my skin. I nodded.

  “I want to stay,” I said, meaning more than just one night in his room. I wanted to stay forever.

  “Then stay as long as you want, Trix,” he said, pressing a kiss to my collarbone.