Hoax Husband: A Hero Club Novel

by Candice Wright

  “Deal,” I quickly agree.

  She climbs into the car with a sigh and I follow suit, pulling out when she's buckled up. Driving in the direction she points, I steal glances at her as she tries her best to ignore me.

  “What?” she says warily.

  “Just admiring the view,” I tell her with a smile, making her huff and turn away.

  I pull over where she indicates and as soon as I stop, Linda is out of the car before I’ve even turned off the engine. I take my time getting out, running over what I want to say to her in my head as I follow her into the diner.

  It’s quiet in here at this time of night, but there are a few stragglers. Some have worked a night shift themselves. Others look like they've stumbled out of a club, their alcohol pickled brains insisting they need something greasy before they pass out or end up praying to the porcelain gods.

  I let Linda choose where she wants to sit, keeping myself a few paces behind her. When she slides onto the cracked upholstery seat of one of the booths near the back of the room, I ignore social etiquette and climb in next to her, effectively pinning her in.

  “Ugh, figures,” she moans but doesn't argue further, likely already knowing I won't budge.

  The waitress comes and I order coffee and pancakes for both of us, even as Linda protests.

  "You need to eat. You've been on your feet all night."

  Reluctantly, she gives in and we sit in silence for a moment, waiting for our food to arrive.

  "What do you want, Asher?" She sounds exhausted and apprehensive, making me feel like an utter asshole.

  “I want to apologize.”

  She tries to interrupt, but I hold out my hand to cut her off.

  “No, let me say this. I was an asshole. I drank way too much. It’s not an excuse, but nevertheless, it's true. I’m not actually much of a drinker and clearly, I didn’t handle it all that well. I'm truly sorry.” And now is where I come clean and tell her what I need, but the words get stuck in my throat. “I’ve spent a year thinking about your tattoos, how you smell, what you taste like.” My voice turns husky thinking about it.

  She swallows hard before looking away.

  "I never meant to hurt you, Linda," I promise her.

  She nods slowly, accepting my apology, for now at least, and it's a start. It's more than I deserve.

  “I tracked you down because I want a chance to make this right.”

  She takes a deep breath and blows it out, her shoulders slumping. “It doesn’t matter now, Asher, it's over. Thanks for the apology, but the truth is, I'm at fault here as much as you. I married a stranger for god's sake. I wanted the fairy tale. It made me act reckless and stupid. But for those fleeting moments with you, I forgot.”

  “Forgot what?” I question softly.

  “That fairy tales don't exist. There are no good or bad guys, no white and black, just shades of gray. Everyone is fucked up in one way or another, so in a way, I guess you did me a favor. Because of you, I gave up on seeking perfection and just settled for being me, flaws and all.”

  It's my turn to swallow as I stare at her.

  “I want to get to know you better,” I tell her, but she shakes her head.

  “It's not a wise idea. I'm in a good place now. I don't want to put myself out there again with someone I don't trust,” she says honestly.

  Her answer makes my gut twist when I think of my reasons for being here to begin with. “Let me earn it.”

  “Asher—”

  But I cut her off again. “I want to get to know my wife.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “Why? It's what you are.” And I can’t deny the thrill that runs through me when I say it.

  “In name, maybe, but not in deed,” she points out.

  “An empty bowl of condoms begs to differ,” I answer and realize as soon as I do it was the wrong thing to say.

  She stands, and without fanfare, walks out, leaving me to drop a couple of bills on the table before rushing after her.

  I expected her to be at the car waiting for me, but then I should have figured out by now that Linda is not like other females. She is already halfway down the street, hailing a cab before I even reach her. I change direction and head back to my car, climbing in and following her cab. I frown when her vehicle stops and drops her off outside an apartment building on the wrong side of town.

  What the hell? Please tell me this isn’t where she lives. I see a couple of guys standing on the corner, tracking her ass as she heads into the building. No, this isn’t going to happen. No wife of mine is going to be living in a shit hole like this.

  I watch her until she disappears inside and wait until I see a light turn on in a window on the top floor.

  A silhouette appears and even though logically it could be anyone, I instinctively know it's her.

  I fight the urge to follow her up like I want to. She needs space and I need time to come up with a plan.

  Ten

  Linda

  It has been three days since Asher reappeared in my life and my nerves are still just as frayed now as they were the first night he turned up out of the blue.

  During the day, I’m a hot mess waiting for him to pop up somewhere and surprise me again, and during the night X-rated dreams of Asher and me tangled in the sheets keep me awake into the early hours.

  Even my painting is suffering. My mindless images always seem to form a particular handsome face hosting a pair of hypnotic indigo eyes that I hate to love so much.

  Sipping my now cold coffee, I stand to dump it in the sink when there is a loud knock at the door. Frowning, I turn to look at it, wondering who the hell that could be. Nobody comes here. I mean, it's not like I don't have friends. I do, but I’d rather not bring them here and have them get accosted by drug dealers on the way in.

  I look down at my outfit—Sponge Bob boy shorts and a plain black tank top—and grimace. Yeah, not a chance I’m going to answer the door like this. I contemplate ignoring it, but they knock again, making me curse under my breath. Creeping over to the spyhole, I decide to take a peek, still unsure if I’m going to answer, when I find that blasted set of eyes that haunt my dreams staring back at me.

  “Open the door, Linda,” he yells, somehow knowing I’m standing on the other side.

  “Go away, asshole. You don't have anything to say that I want to hear.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, although I’m pretty sure I just walked through a drug deal. I might just call the police—” He shuts up when I disengage the deadbolt and pull the chain off the door, swinging it wide open.

  “Are you insane?” I snap, gripping him by his fancy suit jacket and hauling him inside.

  I slam the door shut behind him before locking it once more, then turn to glare at him, my hands on my hips.

  “You can’t go yelling out shit like that here. You’ll end up on the wrong side of a blade or something,” I growl at him.

  He moves toward me, making me take a step back. Unfortunately, this ends up with me pressed against the back of my door and a very pissed off Asher leaning down over me.

  “Do you always answer the door in your underwear?” he growls out, his hand on my hip, squeezing just this side of painful.

  “Shit,” I curse, trying to pull away from him, but of course, the big hulking idiot isn’t having any of it.

  “As you just pointed out, this isn’t exactly a safe neighborhood. What that means is you never ever answer the door looking like a walking wet dream!” he snarls at me, breathing heavily.

  Embarrassed, I drop my eyes, heat flushing my cheeks and neck.

  He slides a hand under my chin and lifts it to make me look at him.

  “Go and put some clothes on and we’ll talk, yeah?”

  I take the reprieve he’s offering and pull free, making a beeline for the chair beside my bed that holds a bunch of clean laundry. I snatch them up and lock myself in the bathroom, willing my racing heart to calm down before it beats right out of my ches
t. Why this man affects me this way even after everything is beyond me.

  I slip on a pair of dark gray fitted yoga pants and pull a slouchy heather-pink off-the-shoulder sweater over my tank top before removing the hair clip holding my hair up and letting it fall around my shoulders.

  I head back out, not wanting him to wander around my space, but come to a stop when I see him checking out my art. Fuck.

  “You did these? They are incredible.”

  Warmth seeps into me at his words. I love my art but suffer from a serve case of imposter syndrome. I cough and indicate for him to sit at one of the stools at the breakfast counter.

  He opens the button on his dark gray suit jacket and slides it off, draping it over the back of the sofa he passes, before rolling up his shirt sleeves to reveal muscular tanned forearms. Oh boy, what is it about rolled-up shirtsleeves? It gets me every time.

  I busy myself with grabbing my mug and rinsing out the cold coffee before reaching for a cup for Asher.

  “You want one?” I offer solicitously, figuring the sooner he says what he needs to, the sooner he’ll leave.

  “Sure, black for me.”

  I pour his coffee and slide it over to him before taking a seat on the other stool, making sure there is plenty of space between us

  “Okay, you wanted to talk, so talk,” I urge him, raising the cup to take a sip.

  “I want a chance to prove myself to you.”

  When I open my mouth to interrupt, to tell him it's not needed, he stops me by talking some more.

  “When you woke up that morning in the hotel room, you didn’t seem freaked out at all until I asked you to leave like a fucking tool. Tell me, Linda, if I had wanted more, if I had given you the green light and wanted to give this marriage thing a shot, would you have taken it?” he asks, placing his mug on the counter before doing the same with mine. Taking my hand in both of his, he leans closer to me before I can protest. “Please, Linda, just be honest with me,” he implores quietly, and even though I don't want to humiliate myself by admitting the truth, I do.

  I cough and nod.

  He dips his head and sighs.

  “I want a do-over.” His thumb traces circles on my skin, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms. “I want to get to know my wife.”

  “Why?” I know that guarding my heart against this man would be impossible. Do I truly want to open myself up to the potential of being hurt by him again?

  When he answers, he meets my gaze head-on.

  “Truthfully, I never wanted to get married. After watching my father do it over and over again, I just stopped believing in the sanctity of it. But when I look at you, when I think about the possibility of us, I want to explore it further.”

  I swallow hard. “I…I spent a lot of time finding myself in the year since I last saw you. I’m not sure I want to end up back playing a role I’m unsuited for.”

  “Then give me a trial run. Be my wife for three months, and if at the end of it you still want out, I’ll grant you the divorce and give you enough money to set you up someplace nicer than here, with space for your own separate studio.”

  “What?” I ask in shock.

  He leans closer, “I’m serious. It will be like dating but in reverse. Please, Linda, don’t you want to be able to stand back in years to come and say you did everything you could before we gave up and called it quits?”

  “You’re crazy!” I blurt out.

  “Maybe, but I’m also deadly serious.” His stare is unwavering.

  “What are you expecting me to do?” I ask him warily, surprised that I’m even considering it.

  “I want you to act as a wife would act. I want to live as a married couple for three months, supporting each other and all that entails,” he replies, his eyes dipping to my mouth.

  I don’t say anything. I don't think I even blink as I just stare at this slightly unhinged man who looks like my continued silence is making him want to crawl out of his skin.

  “Fucking hell, I’m going to need something stronger than coffee to get me through this conversation,” I finally answer, and when I do, a sexy grin spreads across his face.

  Oh boy. I’m in so much trouble.

  Eleven

  Asher

  “If I agree to this, and I’m not saying I will, then I want to add a stipulation,” she hedges searching my face for something.

  At this point, I’ll give her whatever she wants.

  “I want to stay here.”

  Except that.

  “No, that’s not going to work. This place isn’t safe,” I tense just thinking about it.

  “This is my home, Asher. What happens if after a week you change your mind and kick me out?” She frowns and tries to reason with me

  “That’s not going to happen,” I tell her adamantly.

  “Asher, you don’t know that.” She sighs, exasperated.

  “Do you seriously think I tracked you down and pushed myself into your life just so I could change my mind a week down the line?”

  She doesn’t respond, so I lean closer and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  “I know you don’t know me well enough yet to trust me, and Christ knows I’ve given you a million reasons not to, but on this, I swear to you I won't leave you high and dry. And it's fair to mention, we didn’t sign a prenup, so you could cause me far more issues than I could cause you,” I point out, feeling more thankful than I can put into words that I didn't wake up married to a gold digger.

  Linda knew who I was all along. If she had wanted my money, she would have tracked me down immediately.

  “I don’t want your money, Asher,” she insists as I place a finger over her lips.

  “I know you don’t. I’m telling you I trust you, knowing you could do me dirty. I’m asking you to trust me.” A stab of guilt washes over me, but I brush it off.

  I might have started this out with one thing in mind, but things have changed now. If I tell her I tracked her down because of a deal, she will slam the door in my face and the marriage will be over before it's even begun.

  “Okay,” she whispers, making her decision.

  “Okay,” I reply just as softly, as my whole body relaxes.

  “I’m probably going to regret this, but let's give this a go.”

  “All in?” I clarify.

  “Define all in.”

  “It means neither of us holds back. We throw everything into this marriage and see if we sink or swim.”

  She shakes her head, but her lips tip up into a smile. “Fine, you win. I’m all in.”

  The smile is nowhere to be seen now as she sits with her head turned away from me, a scowl likely still on her face as she gazes out of the passenger side window of my car. I’m the one that’s smiling now, and I don’t even try to hide it.

  I always like winning in life. Who doesn’t? But nothing has been sweeter than getting my way today.

  Of course, when she agreed to go all in, she didn’t realize I would want to start immediately or that in deciding to give this marriage a shot, I expected her to move in with me. Today.

  I don’t force her to make idle chit chat, sensing that she needs a minute to herself. I leave her to watch the world whizz by, the houses morphing from rundown and shabby to large and exclusive. When I pull up to my apartment building and park out front, I look over at her.

  If I was expecting her to be impressed, I would have been severely disappointed.

  “You live here?” she questions quietly, looking up at the impressive building before us.

  I nod, wondering what she thinks.

  Any other woman would be ready to jump on my dick at this point, but this one looks more likely to jump on the nearest train away from here.

  “Is this going to work for you?” I tease with a grin, knowing it's a damn sight better than the shithole she’s being dragged out of.

  “I guess so,” she answers before climbing out of the car.

  Sighing, I climb out myself, making a not
e to talk to her about staying seated next time until I get her door.

  One of the younger new valets— Karl or Kyle or something—appears in front of me with a polite smile on his boyish face.

  “Hi,” Linda greets him with a sweet smile.

  A flush of red stains his cheeks as he takes her in and checks her out. The little shit better take his eyes off her before I remove them from his face.

  With a growl, I toss him the keys. “There are some bags in the back that need bringing upstairs,” I snap at him. I place my hand on the small of Linda’s back, urging her inside and away from the valet who is one step away from getting an ass kicking.

  “Morning, Mr. Sloan,” Sam, the tall, aging doorman, greets me as we make our way inside.

  Linda smiles, taking in his navy-blue uniform and his short salt and pepper colored hair.

  “Sam, this is Linda. My wife,” I add as he holds his hand out, making Linda freeze.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Sloan.”

  He shakes Linda’s hand and before she can interject, I thank him and steer us away to the elevators. We wait in silence until the door opens, then Linda heads to the corner, about as far away from me as she can get. I press for the top floor, scanning my security card on the panel above it before turning to face her. She stares at me, her face alarmingly pale.

  “You okay?” I question, wondering why she’s freaking out all of a sudden. “Are you having second thoughts?” I hedge, walking closer to her even as she attempts to back up farther. Unlucky for her, there is nowhere else to go.

  “I… No. I’m not backing out. It's just a lot. And new. I…have no freaking clue what I’m doing,” she admits quietly.

  “We’ll figure it out together, I promise,” I tell her softly, not wanting to spook her any more than she already is as I come to a stop directly in front of her. Our bodies are so close that if she takes a deep breath, her breasts will brush against my chest, and damn, the thought alone makes my dick twitch.