Temporary Wife

by Aria Ford

  “Thanks, sweetie. So do you. I love your hair like that.”

  I had the pleasure of seeing Parker blush. “Thanks, Mommy.”

  “Not at all.”

  I realized that my harshness to myself had been leaking over into unkindness towards everyone—especially Parker. I never really showed her love the way I wanted to. If I could start loving myself more, maybe I would operate from a place of love.

  It made sense. I gave her an affectionate squeeze as we went downstairs.

  “Hello, Brooklyn.” Riley grinned at me. He was wearing a suit and at once looked more stunning and more shy than I’d seen him.

  For a rugged guy, he looks sizzling in that.

  His naturally lean, angular face actually looked even more handsome when offset with a rich brown jacket and pants. He had paired it with a creamy shirt and I could smell cologne. He evidently wanted to make a good impression at the bank.

  He sure is making a good impression on me, I thought wryly. If I had to loan him cash I’d loan millions on the strength of that grin.

  Laughing, I dismissed the thought as I reached my car and unlocked it.

  “What?” he asked as he slid into the passenger seat beside me. Parker clambered into the back seat, slamming the door.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just thinking.”

  He grinned. The sexiness of it melted me.

  I wanted to say that I hadn’t been thinking about anything like…like that. But it would be a lie if I had. Just seeing that handsome face, that lean body, made my thoughts run to the bedroom and get steamy and personal. I couldn’t help it.

  “We’re going to the bank,” I said aloud.

  He chuckled. “I know. Did you forget?”

  I glared at him. He looked back and his eyes sparkled. I laughed.

  “As a matter of fact, I got distracted.”

  “Oh.”

  He sounded remote, but the look in his eye said otherwise and I felt myself blush.

  “Yes, Mister Robson. I get distracted sometimes.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Price.”

  We looked at each other and giggled. Behind us, Parker laughed too.

  “What are you laughing about, Mommy?” she asked, even though contagious laughter had already spread to her too.

  “Nothing, sweetie,” I said lightly.

  “We were just wondering what would happen if we got to the bank and I discovered I was still in my overalls,” Riley said, eyes sparkling.

  “Maybe they’d tell you to go home!” Parker chuckled.

  We all laughed.

  “Probably,” he agreed ruefully. “Anyone with a hole in their trousers probably shouldn’t be asking for a loan.”

  I raised a brow. “Do you really have a hole in your trousers?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll fix it,” I said without even thinking about it.

  “Thanks,” he said with a shy grin.

  It was only when we arrived at the mall that I realized I hadn’t even thought about it. Riley was my friend. He was also sharing my house. It just seemed natural to want to help him, especially as he was helping me out too.

  I wouldn’t let myself consider the fact that, so easily, we’d bonded. It felt as if, in some ways, we’d been together for ages. I already knew how he would respond in some situations, knew his likes and dislikes, sewed his trousers, for Pete’s sakes!

  I tensed. Reminded myself. You are not fit for relationships. You’re not going to get involved with Riley Robson now.

  “Are we going in?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said tightly. I picked up my bag and my papers and opened the door, got out and slammed it. He looked at me, frowning.

  “Brooklyn?”

  “It’s nothing,” I said acidly. “Let’s go in.”

  He frowned, but nodded and we went in together. We left Parker at the childcare section and people assumed we were the parents. I walked through the mall with him, looking for the bank.

  “Is it upstairs?” he asked. I nodded.

  “On the side by the florist’s counter.”

  “Oh, yes.” He nodded. We went up the stairs together. It disturbed me how well suited we were, how naturally we fell into a pattern of being together. I’d never really felt like this with anyone before.

  “Here we are,” he said, standing back so I could go into the smart, intimidating-looking office ahead. We went in and sat down.

  The process was smooth and at the end of it we left the office with my house up for collateral and a loan of a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I felt shaky when we walked out, a bit nervous. But triumphant.

  He squeezed my hand and I grinned at him without thinking about it.

  “We did it,” he said victoriously.

  “We did.”

  “Let’s get Parker and go out.”

  That was what we did. As we sat having lunch, I watched my daughter being more carefree and playful than I’d seen her in months. I looked across at Riley and he grinned.

  Whatever happens, I thought with a lump in my throat, I’m glad we met.

  “Brooklyn,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you too, Riley.”

  My hand moved and our fingers touched. Just for an instant, no more, but the tingle went up my arm to my heart. By the time Parker looked up at us we were serious.

  I carried the warmth of his smile and the joy and worry, mixed, it gave me, in my heart all the way home.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Riley

  When we got home, it felt as if we’d walked into a fridge. Not the actual temperature of the house—that was fine—but between me and Brooklyn. She had loosened up and we were getting on well over lunch. At home, she froze.

  “I need to take Parker for a walk,” she said frostily as we hung up our coats.

  “Okay,” I said, frowning. “I should get down to Brad and see what he says.” Brad was my partner in the handyman business—an old friend and my choice as a partner in my new garage plans.

  “Fine.” Brooklyn had her back to me, busy disentangling her scarf from the button of her coat.

  I glanced upstairs, where I could hear Parker rushing about her room. “Brooklyn?” I whispered, putting my hand on her shoulder. “What’s up?”

  She shook me off. “I’m fine, okay?” she snapped. Was it me, or was she crying? “I’ll be fine. Leave it.”

  I stood back. “Sure,” I said gently. I was at a loss. I had no idea why her mood had evaporated, leaving her so obviously mad at me. I had no idea at all what I might’ve done.

  I should go now.

  “I’ll head down there, then,” I said quickly. “Catch him when he comes back from lunch.”

  “Okay,” she said, heading for the stairs. She wasn’t looking at me, as if whatever I did was none of her business. I sighed.

  “See you later,” I called. She didn’t react.

  I walked out and around the corner, where I parked my van. It hardly seemed sensible to drive it the short distance to find him. I walked. As I did so, I found images of Brooklyn flooding me.

  I remembered little things—the crooked smile when she was satisfied, the color of her eyes in dim light. This was crazy. I hadn’t actually felt like this—not exactly like—about anyone before.

  She’s mad at you. She wishes you hadn’t done that.

  I knew that was why Brooklyn was in such a peculiar mood. She had regrets about us the night before. I couldn’t say I blamed her. The thought of moving back to my own apartment, forgetting all this, after a few months was distressing.

  I’m going to have to do it, though. She wants that.

  It was upsetting, in its way: I really liked Brooklyn. Really, really did. But she was clearly planning to stick to the agreement, nothing more. When I thought about it, I supposed I couldn’t blame her. After all, she was a stunning lady and I was a brute. More or less.

  Brooklyn, I reasoned as I walked briskly to the center where Brad and I had our business, had so
much. She could have any man she wanted. I, on the other hand, was not the kind of guy who had tons of women passing through his bed. Perhaps I could have had more if I wanted—I’d no idea—the fact was, I didn’t. I hadn’t fallen for anyone like I had for her.

  I gritted my teeth, making myself forget. Knocked on the door. “Brad?” I called.

  A head appeared at the window, flaxen hair combed downwards over a blunt, bright-eyed face.

  “Hey! You!” My friend and fellow handyman yelled. “Awesome.”

  Brad’s sincere welcome warmed my heart. I realized as I walked in, breath steaming in the blast of fresh air from outdoors, that I really was hurt by Brooklyn’s sudden change.

  She might at least keep up hating me.

  “Hey, Riley!” Brad was saying, pushing some things off the table at the back. “Come, sit down. Great to see you! Happy Christmas for two days ago.”

  “Thanks,” I smiled. “You too.” We shook hands and he stepped back, squinting up.

  “Riley? What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” I sighed.

  “Want some tea?”

  “Yes!” I nodded. That was sincere and he laughed.

  “Coming right up.”

  As the water boiled I sat in the oil-scented cheery chaos, and he told me about the work thus far.

  “We’ve got some fixing to do—Reese Prestwick’s van again.”

  “Oh?” I rolled my eyes. “We got the parts for it?”

  Brad nodded. “I think we can scavenge some VW parts fairly easily,” he nodded. “You know—most things will fit in there anyhow. Not like they’re fussy cars.”

  I laughed. “I know. Love them.”

  He passed me tea and we talked about Christmas—his relatives, his family, his dinner. I was fairly quiet about mine, and if he noticed, he did me the courtesy of pretending otherwise.

  “Uh, Brad?”

  “Yes?” he asked, lowering his cup as I drained my tea.

  “I got the loan.”

  “What?” he stared at me. His bright eyes shone. “You want to give me a heart attack?”

  “No,” I grinned. “I got it.”

  “How? What? When? You crazy man!” he chuckled, tipping his head back. “You could’ve told me before you did!”

  I shook my head. “It kind of happened,” I demurred.

  He shot me a glance but thought better of whatever he was going to say.

  “How much?” he asked.

  “A hundred and fifty thousand,” I said softly.

  He actually jumped up. “What? Riley, man! That’s awesome!”

  I grinned and he laughed. “This calls for a celebration! Come on! Let’s go!”

  “Um, Brad?”

  “Yes?” He was already shrugging into his coat, heading out.

  “We’re open.” I inclined my head to the front door of the business.

  He sighed, crestfallen. “Okay. I guess you’re right. But it’s not like anyone’s called today.”

  “They might,” I insisted. “And anyway. We can always go out tonight.”

  I might as well make my own arrangements, I thought sorrowfully. Brooklyn would be pleased.

  “Okay,” Brad nodded, evidently considering it. “Tomorrow would be better.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “My wife has an appointment just after work,” he said. “So I’m cooking tonight.”

  “Oh?” I frowned. “She wants you to?”

  Brad threw something at me. It missed. We both laughed.

  “Yes, as it happens,” he said when we were both straight faced again. “She likes me to cook.”

  “Oh?” I thought. I wonder.

  “You look like you’re thinking.”

  “Is it so unusual?” I quipped. Brad chuckled.

  “If I said no I’d be lying. Which is a pity, ’cause I’d like to.”

  I laughed. “Seriously, though, Brad. You think cooking would improve a lady’s mood? I mean, if I cooked something…” I trailed off, aware that I’d exposed myself now.

  Though I was expecting a barrage of questions about my love life, Brad didn’t. He nodded.

  “Should work, Riley.”

  “Oh. Thanks, Brad.” I nodded absently. My mind was somewhere else. We chatted for a while, going over our plans. The idea was simple—we should try and buy a franchise of Walker Dealerships. They were established and Brad knew the owner.

  “Well, he might recall me from school,” Brad said doubtfully. “Though I don’t know if Hal Walker actually liked me.”

  I snorted. “Anyone would like you.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, Riley. That’s nice.”

  I shook my head. “It’s honest. Right. So you call him, then.”

  Brad nodded. “Tomorrow morning.”

  We made our arrangements. I stood.

  “I should get going now, Brad,” I said. “I promised to drop past Mrs. Halloran to check her gutters. Then I’m off.”

  “Okay,” Brad nodded. “See you tomorrow. I’ll let you know more about our plan then.”

  “You do that.”

  We said our farewells and as I walked back I turned over ideas in my mind. I would stay in and cook dinner. I guessed Brooklyn would probably be out until later with Parker, and I could get it started before they got back. I walked until just before the house, then paused.

  If I go back and start the car, she’ll see me. So I should maybe walk to the corner store to get things. I wonder what they have.

  Twenty minutes later I found myself at the counter of the small Aldi on the corner with some fish in tins, a cabbage and red peppers. My other hand held my phone, where I was searching for recipes. My mom used to make something with fish in the oven, I thought dimly. A kind of bake. I could almost remember what was in it, but had little idea where to start.

  Well, only one way to find out.

  I bought the things and headed back, praying that Brooklyn had basic ingredients in her house. I arrived at an empty hallway.

  “Parker?” I called, thinking she was more likely to answer than her mom. “Hello?”

  No answer. I went upstairs. Brooklyn wasn’t in her bedroom—at least, the door was open and when I called no one emerged. Parker had also gone. I went through to the kitchen, feeling distressed. Found a note.

  Just gone to the mall with Parker—meeting friends. Be back by supper. Brooklyn.

  Perfect. I was surprised to find myself being cheerful about that. Her absence until supper would give me a chance to enact my plan. I grinned.

  Putting the groceries to one side, I took stock of the kitchen. It seemed like everything was in order. I looked at the clock, which informed me it was ten to four. I still had a few hours.

  I think I’d better not fix anything.

  I smiled to myself. Even though her anger upset me, her angry expression was cute. I couldn’t help the fact that even when she seemed unfair I liked her.

  Deciding there was no time like the present, I went up to my attic room and started working out. I was sweating and glowing with exertion by the time the clock informed me it was five thirty. I stared at it, shocked.

  Heck! Did I really work out that long? I guess I did.

  My whole body stiffened. I changed out of my exercise gear and headed to the shower.

  I spent a tense ten minutes in there, praying that Brooklyn didn’t arrive and walk straight in here without warning.

  The thought of that made me at once feel a tingle of anticipation and a desperate need for hurry. As much as it would have filled me with pleasure for her to walk in on me naked, covered in water, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be just now.

  If I am going to be soaking and naked with her, I’d rather she was soaking and naked too…

  I felt my poor cock ache with the thought of her body, wet. I imagined what it would be like to hold her, to feel her skin all slippery against me, to feel her butt bumping my cock in the small space. To feel soap, sliding on skin.

  I finished showering. I
berated myself silently for my thoughts. I was hopelessly aroused now and had no foreseeable hope of changing that.

  “You idiot,” I told myself crossly. It didn’t help.

  I towel-dried myself, dressed in jeans and a shirt and headed down to the kitchen.

  “Right,” I said to myself. I went to the cupboards and started raiding them for things that I dimly recalled my mom having used. By the time six o’ clock arrived I was completely engrossed.

  “And I think we need some more pepper,” I muttered to myself, tasting the concoction on the stove. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recalled my mom teaching me to make sauce. It was working.

  “Riley?” I heard a voice. I looked up.

  “Brooklyn,” I said, feeling suddenly sheepish. I’d just taken over her kitchen, after all. The way she had gone all stiff, and the sound of her voice, all tight, made me question the wisdom of Brad’s idea. She’s really mad.

  “Riley!” she said. Her cheeks were flushed with color. “Are you…making dinner?”

  I nodded. “Almost done,” I said quickly. “Give it twenty minutes. Okay? I’m sorry,” I added, looking down at the counter. In front of that beautiful sternness I felt helpless.

  “What?” she said. She sounded amazed. “Riley. No! Why’re you sorry?”

  “What was that?” I shook my head, unsure I’d heard rightly.

  “I said, ‘Why’re you sorry, Riley?’”

  “You’re not mad?” I asked. “I mean, I did take over your house and…”

  She ran to me and, before we could think about it, she embraced me.

  “I am so, so touched,” she said.

  Somewhere inside me, my heart started glowing.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Brooklyn

  I wasn’t sure quite what to think when I walked into a kitchen that smelled of tomatoes and fish. I looked around, surprised. Riley was there, bent over the pot, looking for all the world like a professional chef.

  When he explained what he was doing—making the dinner—I wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry. I felt like both, frankly.

  “I hope it works,” he said, making a rueful shrug with his shoulders. “I’ve never done this before.”

  I smiled. “It smells good.”