Skye: an enemies-to-lovers, marriage of convenience, and fake relationship stand alone romance (Signature Sweethearts)

by Kelsie Rae

  Now that’s just great.

  Looking down at my tented boxers, I mutter, “Sorry, big guy.”

  “Good morning,” a groggy voice calls as I open the bathroom door. I’d been so adamant to escape and find some privacy that I’d forgotten to grab a new pair of clothes to change into. With a towel wrapped around my waist, I pause and look toward the bed to see a sexy as hell woman in a giant T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that barely cover her legs. She probably thinks her pajamas were a solid choice for keeping men away.

  She has no idea.

  When she catches me staring at the small slice of caramel flesh, she tugs up the threadbare cotton to cover her shoulder. I almost feel guilty for checking her out until I see her own gaze start to wander.

  I watch her eyes travel from my face and down my bare abs before finally landing on the knot at my waist. She gulps.

  “Sorry,” I grunt. “Just gotta grab my clothes.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Of course.” Sucking her lips into her mouth, she stares at the ceiling.

  Damn, she’s adorable.

  Unable to control myself, I drop the towel in the middle of the bedroom and slip on a pair of black boxer briefs then quickly follow those with a pair of worn jeans and a light grey Henley.

  “I’m decent,” I explain as I turn around. When I catch her staring at my recently covered ass, I can’t help a cocky smirk from plastering itself on my face.

  “So, uh…. How’d you sleep?” she asks with her eyes glued to her hands in her lap as they pick at the white cotton fabric. Her face is the color of cherries, but because I’m a gentleman, I drop the fact that she just got caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

  “Fine. You?”

  Peeking up at me, she repeats, “Fine.”

  “You ready to head to Florence today?”

  With an enthusiastic nod that weirdly reminds me of my little brother, she practically bounces off the bed. “Yes! Rome has been amazing, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve always wanted to see Florence.”

  “We check out in”––I check my watch––“forty-five minutes. Why don’t you go shower while I finish packing my stuff, then I’ll grab us some coffee while you finish getting ready?”

  “Really?” she asks, surprised.

  “Yeah. Why is that so weird?” I return, quirking my brow.

  “I dunno. You’re offering to do something nice for me without being told to. Who are you, and what have you done with my fake husband?”

  Her teasing does weird things to my chest, just like the other day when she told me she was saving me. I shrug off the foreign feelings and argue, “Come on, don’t I deserve a little more credit than that?”

  Her eyes lighten. “The jury’s still out, but I’m going to say that my adorableness is definitely playing a key role in the transition. Oh, and yes, on the coffee. Iced if they have it, please.”

  With a laugh, I begin tossing clothes into my luggage. “I dunno about the whole adorableness factor, which isn’t a word, by the way,” I point out. “But I’ll see what I can do about the coffee. Now, go get in the shower. We only have forty-five minutes, and you’re a bit of a hot water hog.”

  “Excuse me?” she gasps, clutching at her chest before standing from the bed. It takes everything inside of me to keep my eyes on her face when her legs are practically begging me to check them out.

  “I am not a hot water hog.”

  “Says the girl who took it all the first morning we got here.”

  “How was I supposed to know I had to limit my time in there?”

  “You took a thirty-minute shower,” I point out.

  After folding her arms across her perky tits, she stomps her cute little foot against the tile floor. “Which is a perfectly acceptable amount of time to wash your hair and shave your lady bits.” As soon as the words lady bits slip from her mouth, her face goes beet red for a second time this morning. I’m unable to control my laughter this time. It bursts out of me like water out of a faucet on full blast as I watch Skye raise her middle finger into the air––pointed directly at me––before she marches to the bathroom then slams the door.

  Good riddance.

  I’m not sure how much more of her adorableness I can take.

  Chapter Twenty

  Skye

  I kind of love Italy’s transport system. The train is efficient. It’s cheap. It gets us from point A to point B without any stressing on my part. And I get to see a bit of the countryside. Win-win. Actually, I think it’s a win-win-win-win? Regardless, I love it.

  What I don’t love are the gorgeous Italian women sitting on the opposite side of the aisle. They’ve been ogling Liam for the past thirty minutes, and it’s driving me insane.

  Not because I’m jealous, I might add. It’s because he’s wearing a freaking wedding ring, and his––cough––wife––cough––is sitting next to him! I mean…the nerve of some people! Normally, I wouldn’t care. But these aren’t your normal women. These are runway models. Long, dark hair, flawless olive skin, tiny waist, and big boobs. I mean, could I feel any more insecure? No. No, I couldn’t.

  Unfortunately for me, I need to pee. Which means I need to leave my spot. And that means that as soon as I do, the two hot Italians will have free access to my husband! Yes, for the rest of the train ride, I’m dropping the fake part.

  I check in my periphery to see if they’re still staring. Yup. Still staring.

  Great, now they’re talking in low voices while they’re staring. Don’t they know we’re American and don’t speak a lick of Italian? They could be yelling at the top of their lungs, and it’s not like I’d be able to understand them!

  Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

  I look again to see the one with red lipstick fluff her hair before sending a flirtatious wink right over my head.

  Nope. Definitely not imagining it.

  Annoyed, I don’t even bother to be subtle before elbowing Liam in the stomach.

  “What the hell was that for?” he grunts under his breath.

  Batting my lashes at him, I mimic the girl’s earlier movement and fluff my hair before giving him a wink. “Sorry, I slipped.”

  I can hear his amusement as I cross my arms and look at the seat in front of me, choosing to ignore the butthead who’s finding way too much entertainment in my misery right now.

  “Is someone jealous?” he asks, having the decency to keep his voice low so only I can hear.

  Pursing my lips, I grit out, “No.”

  His chuckle makes me turn in my seat to face him with a glare.

  “Seriously! I’m not!” I defend myself. “It’s a respect thing, ya know? They know we’re married. They’re not stupid. I’m wearing a ring. You’re wearing a ring. They can’t be that dense. But they’re acting like I’m not even here!” I whisper-shout. “And I need to pee, but I’m afraid if I leave you alone for two seconds, they’ll each grab a leg like they’re a couple of dogs in heat and go to town!”

  This time, his laughter isn’t quiet at all. It’s a full-blown, slap your knee, tears in your eyes gut laugh that has heads turning in front and behind us––including the two girl dogs to my left. In fact, I can feel them staring at my red face right now, applauding their success like they’ve already won.

  Kill me now.

  “Hey, Skye?” Liam rumbles low in his throat before nudging me playfully.

  I ignore him and hunch a little lower in my seat.

  “Skye.”

  I keep staring straight ahead of me.

  “Skye,” he repeats a third time.

  “Leave me alone,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Come on, it was funny! I mean, the imagery! Am I right?”

  With another quick glare in his direction, he shuts up, but it doesn’t make his smile disappear. Nope. That thing is still firmly in place.

  “Okay, look. You’re right,” he caves after another few seconds of tense silence. “They’re being disrespectful to
you by ogling the hot American guy so openly. So, what should we do about it?”

  He’s enjoying this way too much, but I do appreciate the camaraderie thing he’s trying to initiate. I gotta give him a little credit.

  Wearing my heart on my sleeve, I mutter, “I don’t know?”

  “You don’t know? Come on…I’m sure you can think of something….”

  “I can’t think straight! I need to pee!” I huff.

  His amused expression transforms into a mischievous one right before my eyes.

  “I have an idea.”

  Gaze narrowing, I ask, “And what’s that?”

  “You want to make them back off?”

  I nod.

  “You want to make them jealous?”

  I’m stupid enough to nod a second time.

  “Then, follow my lead.”

  One of his big, warm hands grips the side of my face before he leans in and presses his mouth to mine. Sliding right past first base, his tongue slips between my lips before his other hand manages to find my upper thigh. Then he glides it right up toward very dangerous territory.

  Ripping my mouth away from his, I grab his wrist that’s dangerously close to my crotch and pant, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Making them question their own desirability instead of making you question yours.” He takes advantage of my stunned silence by pressing his mouth against mine again. Only this time, I don’t just sit there. I participate. And I participate way more than any sane person should in my current situation. My grip on his wrist disappears, urging him to continue because he’s right. I do feel desirable. I feel confident. I feel like a freaking goddess right now. And he’s worshipping me.

  Grazing my hand up his bicep, I dig my fingers into his tight muscle and moan when he bites my lower lip and tugs it into his mouth. With a soft pop, he releases it seconds later, then tangles our fingers together and tugs me to the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” The question slips out of me as soon as the door clicks behind us.

  “I’m making them fantasize about how awesome I am.” He winks. “By the way, brilliant job out there. Finest acting I’ve ever seen.”

  Acting. Right.

  “Oh.” I press my cool fingers to my heated cheeks, trying to calm down from the hormones raging inside of me. “You too.”

  “I figured that, since you need to pee, we’d hang out here for a minute, and let their imaginations run wild. What do you think?”

  “I’m not going to pee with you in here.” I laugh, covering up my embarrassment.

  He shudders. “Gross. I’ll go out in a sec, then you can pee, and they’ll be left wondering what we were doing while we were in here together. Sound okay?” A text notification sounds, distracting him. I watch as he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the message and thus proves how inconsequential our little tryst was to him.

  I don’t know why I bother to respond. It’s obvious he’s busy, but I can’t help myself. “Yup. Just dandy. And…thanks for faking it out there.” I point toward the door.

  Rolling his eyes at whoever sent the text, he doesn’t respond to it and simply tucks his phone back in his pocket before giving me his full attention. “What do you mean?”

  Crap. He heard me.

  “You know…acting like you enjoyed that.”

  “The make-out session?”

  My cheeks heat all over again. I shouldn’t have brought it up. “Uh…yeah.”

  Laughing, he shakes his head like I’m an idiot. “Skye, you’re hot. It’s not like kissing you is a chore or anything. Trust me. I wasn’t faking shit. Now go pee. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Then he’s gone, and all I can hear are his parting words.

  I wasn’t faking shit.

  The problem? Neither was I.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Skye

  “I’m seriously in love with all these shops,” I gush while walking up and down a cute little side street in a small town in Tuscany.

  I decided to ignore the whole train scenario. Why? Because if I don’t, I’ll become a wreck, and I’ll start to question every little thing Liam does. I don’t think my nerves can handle it.

  And honestly? It makes sense. He’s a manwhore who can easily disconnect his feelings from the…physical stuff. Therefore, I shouldn’t be surprised that he liked kissing me. And did it do its job of making me more confident while simultaneously putting the Italian chicks in their place? Why, yes. Yes, it did.

  Problem solved. Let’s move on. Which is exactly what I’m doing.

  In. Freaking. Tuscany.

  Liam tucks his hands into the front pockets of his fitted jeans before giving me the side-eye as we continue meandering down the cobblestone paths.

  “Never took you for a shopper,” he mentions.

  “I’m a shopper, not a buyer,” I clarify, perusing my options. “There’s a difference.”

  A glass window catches my eye a few seconds later. It’s filled with an assortment of unique jewelry that would make any girl drool. My fingers lazily dance along the edge of the glass as I take in the vintage rings, necklaces, broaches, and bracelets that look like they were transported from the 1600s. The gold, jewels, and polished silver make for some beautiful pieces, and I catch myself leaning in for a better look.

  Sensing my awe, Liam nudges my shoulder. “Want to go in?”

  “No, it’s totally fine.” I step away before glancing back over my shoulder to sneak another look.

  He chuckles. “Come on. Live a little.” Grasping my hand, he entwines our fingers before tugging me into the tiny shop.

  An older gentleman with white hair and a kind smile greets us. “Buongiorno,” he says in a deep Italian accent.

  “Buongiorno!” I reply just as enthusiastically. Glancing over at Liam, I wait for him to respond while trying to keep my anticipation in check.

  “Hola,” he greets the store owner. As soon as the Spanish greeting rolls off his tongue, my face nearly splits in two. He sounds like a lunatic, and I kind of love it.

  The old man is probably used to crazy Americans because he doesn’t miss a beat. “What can I do for you?”

  I look to Liam a second time and wait for him to respond because, honestly? I have no idea what we’re doing in here.

  Smiling, he pulls me in and says, “This is our honeymoon, and I’d love to get her a new ring.”

  “I love my current ring,” I argue even though he knows it’s a bald-faced lie. Regardless, there’s absolutely no point in purchasing another one when we’ll be divorced in a couple of weeks. Clearing my throat, I look back toward the old man. “We’re just here to look, but thank you.”

  “Si, si. Come look.” He enthusiastically waves his hand in front of a few cases, reminding me of the assistants on The Price is Right. It takes me about two seconds to figure out that his adorableness could convince me to do just about anything.

  With a deep breath, I do as I’m told and take a step toward one of the glass counters lining the walls of the small shop. I realize I could spend hours here, taking in all the beauty from decades before as well as new jewelry that showcases the latest trends.

  As I scan the locked case in front of me, my gaze catches on a gorgeous ring, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. The square stone in the center sparkles and is framed with beautiful gold filigree to keep the diamond in place. It reminds me of the lush greenery that climbs up some of the older buildings in the piazzas around town. The band is simple and dainty, matching the same soft gold that frames the large diamond, but it only seems to add to the overall beauty of the ring.

  Simple. Tasteful. Yet, unique in its own right too.

  Gah! It’s gorgeous.

  Liam glances over my shoulder to see what’s caught my attention. Then, in a booming voice, he calls out to the shop owner. “Excuse me, can we try this one on?”

  “Si, si,” the owner replies, rushing toward the opposite side of the counter. When he sees the ring Lia
m is pointing to, he gives me a knowing smile. “Good choice.”

  After unlocking the case, he retrieves the ring with ease then hands it off to my fake husband. My hand shakes as Liam slides off the giant rock adorning my ring finger before replacing it with the vintage piece we’ve stumbled upon.

  “Do you like it?” he asks, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

  My cheeks heat as I peek up at him. “Of course, I like it. It’s beautiful.”

  “Do you want it?”

  I shake my head. “No, thank you.”

  “But you said you like it. Let me buy it for you.”

  I shake my head again. “I don’t want you to buy it for me,” I whisper, nearly choking on the words.

  “Why?” His confusion is clear in his voice.

  Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks as I try to get a grip on myself.

  Wow, Skye. Way to blow things out of proportion.

  Realizing he’s stepped into a giant mess he had no intention of facing, Liam turns to the shop owner. “Can you give us a minute?”

  “Si, si.” The man isn’t dumb enough to leave us alone with an assortment of fine jewelry, but he is kind enough to give us some space to talk in private. When he settles into an old, wooden chair next to the entrance, I breathe a sigh and give my attention to my fake husband, who’s looking at me like I’m seconds away from crumbling, and he has no idea why.

  “What’s wrong?” Liam murmurs, cupping each side of my face.

  I shake my head a second time. “Nothing’s wrong,” I lie.

  His mouth ticks up before sobering. “Tell me the truth, Skye. I think I know you well enough to know when you’re lying. What’s wrong?” he reiterates.

  Taking a deep breath, I let the oxygen ground me for just a second before whispering, “This is the ring.”

  “The ring?” He laughs. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

  “I mean, this is the ring I want.”

  Confused, he says, “I know. That’s why I offered to get it for you before you nearly burst into tears.”