How to Design Love

by Cami Checketts

  Colt glanced back at her with a grin.

  Brikelle felt like she was floating behind the boat. She pushed her feet forward and back to move herself a little bit and finally got confident enough to pull herself to “the sweet spot,” where her friends had taught her she could surf without holding on to the rope. Cool water splashed onto her legs and the wind rushed past her.

  She felt the slack in the rope and knew she was there. It was a little unnerving being this close to the back of the boat, but with an inboard motor, she was in no danger. She liked that even though there were other boaters zooming past, she didn’t feel the bumpy water coming from their wakes.

  “You want to toss the rope in?” Colt asked her.

  “Can I?” she hollered back.

  “Go for it.”

  Brikelle waited another minute, getting more slack in the rope and riding the wave up and down a few times, testing if she was really surfing. The wind created by their speed lifted the hair from her face and neck, the sun touching her shoulders, and the distinctive smell of algae and her peach-scented shampoo from her wet hair all added to the moment. Water sprayed into her face when she pushed too far forward on her front foot and she tried not to “drink the lake,” as her dad would say. She turned the board a little bit with pressure from her feet. Her abs and the muscles in her thighs tightened as she wobbled and recovered.

  All the stress of decorating a multi-million-dollar home, debating if she should fake a marriage, wondering if she could make it to the next paycheck and really succeed as an interior designer, were carried away in the wind along with the droplets of water in her hair.

  Colt glanced back and gave her a thumbs-up. Brikelle got brave and tossed the rope onto the boat’s padded bench. She swayed a little bit, but then she realized she really was in the perfect spot, surfing behind the boat with no rope. She gave another whoop and heard Colt’s deep laugh in response. Pumping the board with her front foot to stay in the right spot, she rode the wave for a long time, loving every second of it.

  She felt herself falling back and within seconds she was in the wake, and then there was no resistance and she was sinking. Exhilarated from the fun ride, she was only slightly let down that it was over as water rushed up to her chin. Colt whipped the boat around and stopped next to her. He hurried to the back of the boat as she set the surfboard on the wooden platform.

  “Thank you! That was so much fun!”

  “It looked like you were having fun.”

  “I loved it!”

  His cheek crinkled as he smiled. “Guess there are some benefits to being married to me?”

  The memory of their two kisses in front of Emma surfaced quicker than the board had popped out of the water when she’d finished surfing. Brikelle’s cheeks burned. She climbed out of the water and sat on the edge of the padded seat, slowly removing the life jacket. Kissing Colt was a benefit she shouldn’t be dwelling on. “So once we break up, do I get fifty percent of the boat?”

  His mirthful look slipped as he flipped the switches to empty the ballast tanks. “Sorry, wasn’t included in the prenup.”

  She forced a smile. He pulled a red and blue beach towel out of a side compartment and handed it to her as she realized she’d left her towel in the truck. “Thanks.” She wiped the water off of her face and arms.

  Colt watched her, then moistened his lips. He stood quickly, took her life jacket, and set it over a seat. Then he lifted the board and re-secured it before coiling the rope. “Okay. You ready for your driving lesson?”

  “Sure.” She secured the towel around her chest and followed him to the pilot’s seat.

  He sat on the seat and gestured for her to come closer. Brikelle’s breath hitched. Where was she supposed to go? Colt took the guesswork out of it by gently grasping her hips and directing her in front of the steering wheel. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and her breath caught.

  “This is the throttle.” He placed her hand on the lever. Brikelle hoped he didn’t notice that her hand trembled from his simple touch. “Push it forward and you go forward, pull it back and you go in reverse.”

  “Simple,” she squeaked.

  “Yep. There’s no brake, so if you want to stop you have to go into reverse quickly.”

  “Sounds too … technical.” She swallowed hard. “I won’t stop.”

  “Sometimes you have to stop.”

  Brikelle knew it might just be her imagination, but it felt like they were talking about something completely different than boating. “What if I don’t ever want to stop?” she managed to get out through quick pants of air. She didn’t want to stop their farce of a marriage and she didn’t want to stop being around him.

  Colt stood behind her so that his body was flush with hers. He wrapped his hands around hers and gently lifted them off the steering wheel, which she’d unconsciously clung to, then slowly spun her around. Her eyes were focused on his chin, and when she tilted her head back, his eyes glinted a bright blue. “I hope you don’t have to stop, then,” he whispered.

  Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. Joy and desire intermingled with the warmth of his lips. It was even better than their first two kisses because they were doing it by choice, not to keep up an appearance for Emma.

  “Oh,” Brikelle moaned against his lips. Colt smiled before intensifying the kiss. Brikelle wrapped her arms around his lower back and held on. Colt’s hands moving over her back dislodged the towel and it dropped to the boat deck.

  “Oh.” Brikelle gasped again, blushing furiously and trying to back up. His hands on her bare back were much too intimate. They were not married, no matter what they wanted to pretend, and she didn’t know this guy well enough to know what boundaries he had. She backed into the steering wheel and had nowhere to go, but Colt sensed her intent and released her.

  Brikelle didn’t move, though. She was captivated and a little bit terrified by the hungry look in his eyes. It gave her a thrill of excitement she’d never experienced with a man before. Glancing over Colt’s strong frame and handsome, but mature face, she realized he truly was a man. Having recently graduated college, she’d dated a lot of great guys, but they weren’t like this. Colt was in control of his life, successful, and smoking hot. “How old are you?” she said before reason could stop her. She slipped out from behind the steering wheel and to the passenger seat.

  Surprise washed over his features, but then he relaxed. “Twenty-nine,” he said.

  Seven years older than her? Whoa. That wasn’t an insane gap for a married couple, though. Right? She shook her head. What was she thinking? They weren’t married!

  “You’re about twenty-two?” he asked.

  “How did you know?”

  “You said you’d just graduated.”

  “Is that too big of a gap for a married couple?”

  His eyes glinted mischievously and he stepped closer, sweeping his hand between the two of them. “This is too big of a gap for a married couple.”

  Brikelle blinked at him. “What?”

  “This space between us.”

  She took a tentative step closer, and he smiled before reaching for her. Then she was in his arms again, and she really didn’t care about age or fake marriages or anything but continuing to kiss him for a good, long time.

  Hoots and hollers and then screams of “Colton Jepson!” broke them apart.

  Brikelle tried to step away, but Colt held her fast. “Friends of yours?” she asked, looking to the dock by his parents’ home, where two men were holding slalom skis high in the air and yelling at them.

  “Unhand the beautiful lady and come pick up your brothers!” one of them yelled.

  “Brothers,” Colt muttered. He finally released her, and she sat in the seat next to him as he put the boat into drive and they cruised over to the dock.

  Brikelle patted at her hair, which was drying and frizzing; then she tried to swipe under her eyes, but if there was mascara there it was going
to be there until eradicated by makeup remover. She tried to pull her hair forward to hide the scar on her temple, afraid her makeup had been washed away. This was not a great way to meet his brothers, but it kind of surprised her that she hadn’t been worried about Colt seeing her like this; seeing the scars on her face. How had she gotten so comfortable with him so quickly?

  The men on the dock were unerringly handsome, like Colt, but it was crazy how different their coloring was. The taller one had the most beautiful mane of dark red hair Brikelle had ever seen. It framed his tanned face and his eyes were a brilliant blue like Colt’s. The other one had blondish-brown hair and larger muscles than Colt or his other brother, though they all had very nice builds.

  Colt eased in next to the dock and the blond grabbed the side of the boat. The redhead jumped in, and the blond pushed off before leaping in. They set their skis down in the back of the boat and sidled up next to Brikelle. They were both grinning at her like the Cheshire Cat.

  Colt put the boat into drive and muttered, “Brikelle, meet my brothers.”

  The blond stuck out his hand first. “Brody. Nice to meet you, Brikelle.”

  “Thank you, you as well.”

  The redhead stepped up to her. “Tate.” He shook her hand firmly, and then both men simply stood there and stared at her like she was a phenomenon they needed to study.

  Colt eased the throttle back and the boat coasted to a stop. “Who’s skiing first?” he asked.

  “You know there are more important things than skiing going on at the moment,” Tate said, pushing a hand through his gorgeous hair.

  “Is that real?” Brikelle asked before she could help herself.

  “What?” Tate kind of startled.

  “Your hair color.”

  Colt and Brody both started cackling. Tate pulled a face at them, then winked at her and brushed his hand through his hair again. “These luscious locks are a hundred percent natural.”

  “And the women love them,” Brody taunted. “You should see the nurses at the hospital. ‘Oh, Dr. Jepson. I just love your hair.’”

  They were all laughing at his high-pitched imitation. “Hey, don’t be jealous that I draw the women in,” Tate said.

  “Ha!” Brody laughed. “I’m not jealous that they want to know what brand of shampoo you use. They think you’re one of them or something.”

  Tate pushed at Brody and tried to shove him overboard, sending the boat rocking. Brody was built like a tank, though, and stood his ground pretty well.

  “So, Tate’s obviously the doctor and Brody is the financial genius?” Brikelle asked.

  “Somebody met Big Momma.” Brody grinned and folded his thick arms across his chest. “She takes proud to a whole new level.”

  “I think it’s sweet.”

  “Women usually do,” Tate said in a voice that left no doubt he knew how great his mom was.

  “So, you skiing?” Colt asked his brothers. “Or did you just drive up here to work your jaws?”

  “We’ll ski after we find out who this lovely lady is that you were smooching.” Tate raised a dark eyebrow in a challenge. “I talked to you a week ago and heard no indication there was a beautiful addition to your world.”

  Brikelle’s face was burning.

  “How’d you meet?” Brody put his hands under his chin and fluttered his eyelashes at them mockingly.

  Colt slung his hand around her waist and his arm brushed the skin of her back. She had to force herself to concentrate on what his brothers were asking. “Ike chased her up the canyon and I rescued her.”

  “Rescued her from Ike?” Brody barked a laugh. “That wussy dog couldn’t hunt a rabbit.”

  Brikelle’s eyes widened. Wussy dog? “Have you seen Ike? That dog is terrifying.”

  “Terrifying?” Brody shook his head. “Sorry, Brikelle, but that dog is a total wimp. He wouldn’t hurt a mouse.”

  Brikelle tossed her hair and pinned him with a look. “Well, he almost attacked me and you can laugh all you want, but I have no desire to be within half a mile of any huge, scary dog.”

  Brody laughed louder, but Tate’s blue eyes had grown serious. He took her hand and tugged her away from Colt. His voice dropped low and he said in a sincere tone like a doctor consulting a mental patient, “Were you attacked as a child?”

  Brikelle’s body started to tremble. She looked into Tate’s eyes, so similar to Colt’s, and bravely pointed to the faint scar running down the side of her temple. “Y-yes.”

  “Oh, Bri,” Colt murmured from behind her. He came to her side and gestured his brother away. “Drive for a bit, Tate.” Colt escorted her to the back of the boat. He sat her on the cushioned seat and then scowled at Brody, who was approaching. “Go sit by Tate,” he commanded.

  “Bossy big brothers,” Brody muttered, but his eyes were full of compassion and regret. “Tate and I can get out of here if you need.”

  Colt’s eyes swept over her face. Brikelle shook her head. “I’m fine. You all are making a big deal out of this. It happened a long time ago and I’m fine as long as I stay far away from dogs.” She took a long breath. “I’d love to see you ski.”

  Colt gestured with his chin to Brody. “That’d be good. Ski.”

  Brody pulled off his T-shirt and buckled up a vest. He grabbed his ski and jumped into the water. Within seconds he yelled “Hit it!” and the boat smoothly lifted him out of the water.

  Brikelle pivoted so she could watch him skim across the wake, shooting a spray up each time he turned. “He’s good,” she murmured.

  Colt took her hand between both of his. “Bri.”

  She looked down at their joined hands. “Nobody calls me Bri.”

  “Really? What do they call you for a nickname?”

  “Usually Kell.”

  “I like that, but I think Bri fits you.” He squeezed her hand.

  “I like that you have a nickname for me.” She chanced a glance at his face.

  He smiled gently. “I’m so sorry about Ike, Bri.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry I overreact to dogs. You’d think as an adult you’d get past childhood fears, but …” She focused on Brody cutting behind the boat. “It’s pretty horrifying, still, when I get close to a dog, especially one chasing me when I bike or run.”

  “What happened?”

  Her memory was blessedly foggy, but she could still remember lots of sharp teeth, pain, ripping of skin, and the terror. The terror never left when a dog was close. “A neighbor’s pit bull attacked me on the way home from the bus stop. My brothers fought him off, but it was bad. I had so many stitches.” Luckily the scars had mostly faded. The worst one was the one on her temple, and there were some on her abdomen that were still long, white bumps.

  “Oh, Bri. And of course that fear has always been there.”

  She loved that he understood, even though he had a dog. “Yes, unfortunately. And it hasn’t helped that I’ve been bitten and chased a few times out running or biking.”

  He nodded and gripped her hands tighter. “I wish I could change the way I acted when I first met you and since then. I’ve been so insensitive about your reaction to Ike. Leave it to Tate to figure it out in two seconds,” he muttered.

  “No, it’s okay.” She shook her head. “Well, you were kind of insensitive, but how would you have known? You probably thought I was such a brat.”

  “No.” He gave her a gentle smile. “Okay, I did. I’m sorry. I was just being defensive for Ike.”

  “You really love that dog.”

  He shrugged. “He’s gotten me through some tough times.”

  Brikelle wanted to know more, but the boat jerked and hit a wave at the same time. Brikelle bounced and slid closer to Colt. He automatically wrapped her up in his arms. “You need to stop doing that,” she admonished.

  “What?”

  “Hugging me all the time.” She looked around to see Brody in the water and Tate spinning back to pick him up.

  “Well, you are my wife.�
�� His eyes twinkled at her.

  “What?” Tate yelped and spun around to stare at them as he cut the motor.

  Brody pushed his ski up onto the wooden deck and climbed up, shaking water out of his hair.

  “She’s your what?” Tate asked again, striding to the back of the boat and standing over both of them.

  “What’s going on?” Brody asked from behind them, water dripping from his suit and hair.

  “Colt just called Brikelle his wife.”

  “Come again?” Brody said.

  “Okay, you two calm down.” Colt scooted to the side of the bench, pulling Brikelle with him so they were out of Brody’s way. He climbed into the boat and stood next to Tate. Both of them glowered down at them.

  “What’s going on here, Colt? You told me two weeks ago that you were still dealing with … crap from you-know-who.” Brody pushed water out of his blond hair.

  “That’s enough, Brody.” Colt pulled her closer, but his tone of voice made her shiver. Who was you-know-who?

  Brikelle felt defensive for a man she didn’t even know very well and uneasy at the way his brothers were looking almost mad at the both of them. “It’s just a fake marriage.”

  “I’m so confused.” Tate’s blue eyes narrowed.

  “We got placed in an odd situation and we’re pretending to be married until next weekend.” Colt gave her arm a squeeze, but his voice was still tight. “It’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Brody shook his head. “I know you need someone, bro. You haven’t been the same since you lost Cally, but this isn’t the way to remedy the situation, taking advantage of Brikelle like this.”

  “Cally?” Brikelle turned to Colt, whose expression had frozen, and his hand went slack in hers. She wanted to tell his brothers to go ski again so she could talk to Colt alone. Who was Cally? Her stomach dropped. Colt had lost somebody he obviously cared deeply for and he wasn’t over her? A chilly breeze swept over her. She wanted to help him, but at the same time was suddenly panicky. What if he couldn’t recover from this Cally?