Wooing His Accidental Wife (Unexpected Lovers Book 5)

by JB Heller

  I head in the direction of the closest park, and when I get there, I run until I’m too exhausted to be angry anymore. By the time I stumble back into the apartment, two hours have passed, and I still have no idea why she did it.

  I drag my ass into the shower, then crawl into bed, so very done with this night. And then I pass the fuck out.

  My eyes blink open as the sun peeks through the sheer bedroom curtains. I lift my arms above my head in a stretch, and something moves on my chest. I glance down, finding Ads’s hand resting over my heart, as if it was always meant to be there.

  I swallow hard, not wanting the small gesture to mean so much to me. But it does. It hits me right in the freaking feels. And despite how much I want to rage and yell at her for being so inconsiderate of anybody but herself, I just can’t. I’m not that person, and I don’t want to be.

  Sighing heavily, I slide out from under her touch, doing my best not to disturb her, then shuffle into the bathroom. I take my morning piss, brush my teeth, then head into the kitchen to make my first cup of joe for the day.

  I probably shouldn’t be so touched by the hand thing; she was sleeping for fuck’s sake. It’s not like she knew she’d reached for me in her sleep. It wasn’t a conscious decision.

  Fucking fuck! I scrub a hand over my face then take a long sip of my coffee. Last night, all I wanted was to sit down with her and discuss our days over that god awful sushi before she had to go into work. But she couldn’t even manage to send me a simple text telling me she had to go in early, or leave a note stuck to the fridge saying she was sorry she’d miss dinner. I’m not asking for a lot here. I don’t even expect her to meet me halfway, not with the shit she’s been through, but would it kill her to at least treat me like I’m her friend? Like I’m someone that matters to her?

  Things had been going so well. Date nights were a huge success, or at least I thought they were. She’s been smiling more and hasn’t been holding back her affection as much as usual. I thought that was a good sign.

  I’m still fuming when I slide back into the bedroom and get dressed. Snatching my cell off the charger on my bedside table, I then slip it into my pocket and leave, forcing myself not to have one last look at her before I head for work.

  I feel like such a shit.

  I was awake when he woke up. And when he’d showered. Even when he came back into the room and got dressed for work. But I didn’t have the lady balls to face him.

  I’m a big fat coward.

  I hadn’t been able to fall asleep when I’d finally come home last night and he was passed out in bed, his clothes strewn across the floor and shoes tossed in front of the rack. I knew he was sending me a message. I’d have to be pretty damn stupid to miss it.

  I’d picked up his stuff, put it where it should go, then had a shower and crawled into bed beside him. He didn’t even stir. I tossed and turned for hours, sleep refusing to give me a reprieve from my guilt.

  Now here I am, staring at the ceiling, feeling like the biggest bitch in the world.

  In all fairness, I am the biggest bitch in the world, so there’s that. At least my feelings are on point. But I’d let myself settle into this arrangement way too easily. I haven’t pushed back once since he moved in. Not really.

  It was all starting to feel too good. Too nice. And I absolutely cannot allow myself to slide into the role of doting wife. Just the thought makes me shudder. Ending up like my mother is literally my worst nightmare—a recurring one, too, for that matter.

  I had the damn dream two nights ago, and I knew I had to start digging my heels in or I’d be utterly fucked… So, I did what I had to.

  I went into work a couple of hours early and ignored his calls when they came through, even deleted the voicemail without listening to it. It was hard, like, super freaking hard. I stared at my cell for twenty straight minutes before I managed to force myself to hit the damn button.

  But it was necessary.

  And that was not the purpose of agreeing to let him move in. I’m supposed to be proving my point, damn it, not falling more in love with the guy.

  I swallow hard and squeeze my eyes closed. I hate this. All of it. My head and my heart are at odds, and I have no idea which one to listen to anymore.

  The only sensible thing to do would be to stick with the original plan. I nod to myself. Yes, stick to the plan, Adley, and everything will turn out the way it’s supposed to.

  I’m so on edge I can’t even read properly.

  I’ve read and reread the same damn paragraph I don’t know how many times already, and it’s driving me insane. Reading is my escape, my refuge, and he’s even taken that away from me.

  All morning I’ve been consumed with guilt for what I did last night. A part of me wants to call him and apologize or, I don’t know, make some ridiculous gesture to show him I’m sorry. But doing that would defeat the purpose of doing what I did.

  Where the hell is your resolve, Adley!

  I grind my molars together and stare at the page in front of me. Stupid Dax and his stupid date nights and his stupid sweetness and stupidly sexy Ben-Barnes-looking ass. I toss my book to the side, then scoop it back up and smooth the cover down. “Sorry, baby, I shouldn’t take my irritation out on you.” I lovingly stroke the spine then place it gently on the small, copper table beside my chair.

  Pushing to my feet, I march over to the kitchen and open my cleaning supplies closet. If scrubbing my apartment from top to bottom doesn’t soothe and distract me, I don’t know what will.

  Five hours later, I’ve cleaned every square inch of my apartment, washed the linens, remade the bed, and watered and rearranged my plants. Yet Dax is still on my mind.

  I collapse in an exhausted heap into the bathtub I dumped a ton of Epson salts and lavender oil in to help calm my mind and alleviate my sore and aching body. I soak a washcloth then wring it out and place it over my eyes as I rest my head back on the edge of the porcelain tub.

  My temples throb violently, and I take a long deep breath. This migraine has been building all day. I really should have stopped my cleaning frenzy and taken some pills for it a couple of hours ago. But foresight is twenty-twenty and all that.

  Nausea rolls through my belly, and I grit my teeth then wince at the spike of pain the action sends into my tender brain. I’m so lost to the agony ripping through my head that I don’t even hear Dax arrive home or enter the bathroom.

  “Ads, babe, are you okay?” he asks, his tone full of concern.

  At least that’s what I think it is. It could be disdain for all I know. I’m not exactly fully cognizant at the moment.

  Mother of God. I haven’t had a migraine like this in years. I jolt forward, hanging my head over the side of the tub as my stomach cramps and vomit erupts from my mouth.

  “Jesus fuck! What’s wrong, baby? What can I do?” Dax’s voice grates on my nerves, and all I can do is groan in response.

  I walked in the door five minutes ago ready to pick a fight. But the sight of Adley curled over the side of the bath, all color washed from her features as she groans incoherently squashes that desire entirely.

  I drop to my knees and press my palm to her clammy forehead, and she winces. Christ, what the hell is wrong with her? “Ads, did you take or drink something?” I ask, my gaze searching the spotless bathroom for any signs of… well, anything that could explain this. But I come up empty.

  Oh shit. Did she eat the sushi? Had it gone bad overnight? Fuck-fuck-fuck!

  “I’m calling an ambulance,” I tell her, sliding my hand in my pocket and pulling out my cell.

  “N-no,” she mumbles. “M-mi-graine.”

  I freeze, my eyes raking over her pale face. I knew she got them occasionally, but I had no idea they were like this. “Okay, baby,” I murmur, gentling my voice. “I’m going to get you out of the tub, then put you in bed. Then I’m going to need you to tell me where your meds are.”

  She makes a sound I take as acknowledgement, so I stand and toss my suit
jacket over the closed toilet and push up the sleeves of my dress shirt. I take the cloth that was over her eyes when I entered and wipe her mouth clean. Then as carefully as I possibly can, I scoop her up into my arms.

  With slow, precise movements, I carry her into the bedroom and place her on top of the quilt. Her teeth chatter together, and I race back to the bathroom to grab a towel. When I return, she’s curled in the fetal position with her face hidden under her hands. Shit, the light.

  I draw the blackout curtains closed, as quietly as I can, aware that every sound I make causes her pain. Once the room is bathed in darkness, I dry her off then take the blanket from the end of the bed and wrap it around her.

  Pushing her wet hair from her face, I softly ask, “Where are your meds, baby?”

  Her hand flutters in the direction of her nightstand, so I open each drawer, searching through it until I find a pill bottle at the bottom. I read the instructions on the label then tip two into my hand. “I’ll just go get you some water.”

  “Hon-ey,” she whispers, and I pause.

  “Honey?” I ask.

  She shifts her head in the tiniest nod. “Vomit if I drink.”

  “Okay, I’ll sort it,” I tell her, then take the pills to the kitchen and dig the honey pot from the pantry. I fish two spoons out then crush the pills between them before drizzling some honey over them and mixing it together.

  While I’m in the kitchen, I grab a large, plastic, mixing bowl and a bottle of water, then take them back to the room with me. Placing the bowl on the floor beside the bed in case she needs to vomit again, I sit on the edge of the mattress then cradle Adley’s head and guide the spoon to her mouth. “Here you go. Just open your mouth for me, babe.”

  She keeps her eyes closed and does as I ask. Once she’s licked the spoon clean, I put it on the nightstand and help her lower her head back into the pillows. “You want me to stay and hold you, or let you be?”

  “Stay,” she murmurs so softly it’s barely audible.

  Without hesitation, I strip off my dress pants, then round the bed, crawling in behind her and tugging her into the circle of my arms. She burrows in then lets out a little sigh as I stroke my fingertips up and down her spine.

  We lay there together in the darkness for hours with not another word spoken between us until we both drift off to sleep.

  A full week passes without incident, and by that I mean no more disappearing acts or debilitating migraines. Neither of us bring up sushigate, or what followed.

  That migraine was scary as fuck. We probably should talk about it. Actually, I know we should, but things have gone back to how they were before it happened, and I don’t want to fuck with that by bringing it up.

  I heave a frustrated sigh and run my hand through my hair for the hundredth time today. Topher pops his head into my office and gives me a quizzical look.

  “What?” I snap.

  “You’re sounding awfully dramatic in here, and your hair’s a mess, just FYI,” he says, with an arched brow. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Talk about what?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Whatever’s bothering you.”

  I return his look. “Does it look like I want to talk about it?”

  “Nope, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t,” he chirps. “I always feel so much better when I get things off my chest.”

  Don’t I know it. I shake my head. “Thanks, but no. I’m good. Just ready for five o’clock to roll around.”

  “Okey dokey, but I’m here if you change your mind. Oh, actually, I was going to ask if you and your lady want to come out for drinks after work tonight with me and Celia? We’re trying out this new place on Ludlow Street.”

  As much as I want to go out with Ads, I don’t think she’s ready for that yet. And I’m one hundred percent sure I don’t ever want to go out with Topher and his girlfriend. He’s a nice enough guy and all, but no. “Thanks for the offer, but we’re going to stay in tonight.”

  He smiles and shrugs. “Another time maybe,” he says as he goes back to his desk.

  I’m saved from replying by my cell ringing on my desk. I grab it and answer immediately after seeing my baby sister’s name flash across the screen. “Hey, Chiquita, what’s up?”

  “Hey, so I have a favor to ask.”

  It’s not often she asks for anything, and I don’t even have to think about my response. “Of course. Anything.”

  She laughs. “Umm… yeah, you might want to hear what it is first.”

  “Nah,” I say, kicking back in my chair. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, chica.”

  Bates’s voice sounds in the background. “He said yes, let’s just drop the feathery bastard off and run!”

  Tia shushes him then says, “Can you birdsit Vinnie this weekend? Bates wants to take me out of town and won’t tell me where, but he says Vin can’t come.”

  “Umm,” I mumble. Adley isn’t fond of Vinnie, but I can’t tell Tia no either. I scratch the back of my neck. “Can Danika do it?”

  “Seriously? You know she hates Vinnie. I could offer her all Bates’s money and she still wouldn’t do it,” Tia says. “I promise he won’t be a bother. He likes you.”

  Shit, I forgot about my twin’s aversion to the feathered Lothario. I can’t help but chuckle at my own joke and tell Tia, “Yeah, okay. I’ll take him. When are you leaving?”

  “Bates wants to leave as soon as possible. I can drop him off at your apartment on our way.”

  “No!” I blurt. Fuck, real smooth, Dax. “I mean bring him to my office instead. It’s closer to your place, and I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks, hermano, see you soon.”

  I end the call then drop my head back to stare at the ceiling. Looks like this weekend just got a whole lot more interesting.

  Half an hour later, Tia strolls into my office, her birdy backpack on with Vinnie inside. She’s practically vibrating with happiness and her smile is huge. I stand up and round my desk to hug her. “Lookin’ good, Chiquita. Married life suits you.”

  “Thanks so much for doing this. You know I hate leaving him,” she says, slipping the straps of her backpack off one at a time. She places it on one of the chairs facing my desk, then hands me another bag. “I made him a fresh fruit and vegie chop, and I put his seeds in Ziplock bags. He’s only allowed one little bag a day. Don’t let him guilt you into giving him more. Also, don’t give him all his toys at once, ration them out or he’ll get bored too quick and move onto chewing on your stuff. Oh and—”

  “Whoa, Titi, I know how to look after the little bastard, okay. I’ve done it before, remember?” I say, cutting off her overprotective momma speech.

  She frowns and nods. “Yeah, no, I know. I just—”

  I wrap my arms around her in another hug. “I’ve got this. Now go and enjoy your mini vacay.”

  “Okay.” She breathes out. “Thank you.” Tia bends down, opens the birdy backpack, and gives Vinnie a scratch. “Be a good boy for Uncle Dax,” she tells him.

  I roll my eyes, then usher her out of my office. “Go!” I instruct, pointing to the elevator bank.

  “I’m going, I’m going,” she mutters, then finally makes her way out.

  I turn back to Vinnie, who eyes me skeptically through the clear plastic of his mode of transport. I give him a chin lift. “S’up, fucker. Ready to learn some more cuss words this weekend?”

  “Fucking fucker,” he says back, and I grin.

  I taught him that, and I’m going to teach him a whole lot more.

  After last week’s mega migraine, I was too exhausted to keep pushing Dax away. And the way he took care of me… Ugh, swoon! So, I fell back into the security of his warm embrace, and here I am, a week later, still not doing anything to remove myself from it.

  I have this weekend off, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious as to what he has planned… And I might, maybe, just be a teeny tiny bit excited, too, despite my brain telling me I need
to knock that shit off.

  Dax swings the door to the apartment open, and all my excitement is squished like that mouse under Lennon’s badass boot. “What the hell is that thing doing here?” I point at Tia’s birdy backpack, attached to Dax, her deviate parrot inside.

  He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, steps inside the apartment, and closes the door behind him. “Tia and Bates went away for the weekend and asked me to birdsit.”

  “You could have said no, you know,” I state, wide eyeing him.

  “I tried to push him off onto Dani, but you remember what happened last time she was left alone with him.” An amused glint lights his eye.

  I snort. “Yeah, exactly. I don’t want the little creatin in my apartment any more than she does.” I wish he looked ridiculous wearing that stupid backpack, but it does nothing to kill his sex appeal.

  He rolls his eyes at me and deposits the backpack on the floor before opening it up, releasing my best friend’s baby, Vinnie. The green spawn of Satan climbs up onto Dax’s shoulder and surveys my apartment from his new vantage point.

  “You’re cleaning up after him, and if he so much as looks at me funny, I’m opening a window and setting him free.” I shove my hands on my hips to let him know I’m deadly serious.

  The indulging smile he gives me is incredibly annoying.

  “I mean it,” I threaten. “And if he even thinks about nibbling on my plants, I’ll, I’ll… I’m not sure exactly what I’ll do, but it’ll be worse than the window.” I nod, crossing my arms over my chest as I glare at the green chicken bird.

  “Uh-ha. I’m sure you will, baby,” Dax says, then he goes about assembling a collapsible cage he pulls out of another bag I didn’t notice until now since all my attention was on Vinnie.

  “What’re you doin?” Vin chirps, watching Dax like a hawk.

  “I’m setting up your sleepover cage, bud,” Dax replies.