Eligible Ex-husband
Marie Johnston
Copyright © 2020 by Marie Johnston and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Developmental and Line editing by Angela James
Copy editing by My Brother’s Editor
Proofreading by: My Brother’s Editor and Angel Nyx
Cover by Mayhem Cover Creations
Created with Vellum
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Cocky Hero Club
About the Author
Eligible Ex-husband is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Stuck-up Suit. It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.
Chapter 1
Natalie
Discovering who was deemed North Dakota’s most eligible bachelor ruined my morning. The article streams through my head like a Netflix show I can’t turn off, only there’s no pause asking me if I want to keep watching.
My best friend Rachel forwarded a link to me this morning, hoping to spare me from discovering it in line at the grocery store. There he was in a full-page spread. Handsome, with a chiseled jaw and natural highlighted dirty blond hair, a body honed by years on the rowing team in high school—which had most definitely not been in North Dakota—and a net worth in the millions. All self-made. And of course they included the part about his brother’s sudden death three years ago. It was right before describing him as the doting dad of two little girls and commenting on how he successfully co-parents with his ex-wife.
I snort and thrust my legs up. The metal plates of the leg press clang against the top and I ease my legs back down to a count of four. My quads are burning.
“Still thinking about that garbage?” My personal trainer peers over me, her hair pulled off her face in braided rows, mirth glittering in her eyes. I gave her the article when I arrived and told her to work me so hard I forget all about it.
“Yes,” I hiss and strain upward with my legs once more, my muscles shaking like a newly birthed calf. I have three more reps to go.
“You want to quit leg day a little early so we can go for a run?”
My next yes comes out in a puff as I push my legs straight.
Aleah keeps talking, doing her best to motivate me, cheer me up, but not so much helping me forget. “You’d think running would give you too much time to dwell on all those ladies and gentlemen who’ll be drooling over the full-body shot of Mr. North Dakota in a Tom Ford, but the endorphins help you care a whole lot less.”
I somehow doubt that I can cover enough ground to not care. “I can’t let it ruin my whole day. It was just so unexpected. Wake up, it’s a normal day. Then… that.” A reminder of everything I’ve lost in bold-faced type.
Aleah crosses her arms, her sleek and defined biceps flexing. Every arm day, I look at her bare arms to get me through the endless sets of push-ups she makes me do. “That sucks, Nat. And you know it’s okay to be angry, right?”
I finish my last rep and grab a drink from my water bottle. Time for the run. “I am angry.” I wipe my brow with a gym towel. “I thought I was over it. I should be over it.”
She tsks. “Don’t should on yourself. What’s my rule?”
“No shoulding on myself during training.” I suck in a long breath. She’s right. This gym has become my mecca. A positive environment. Moving meditation, Aleah calls it. I need some of that now.
I stash my items in the locker room and follow Aleah outside. It’s a pleasant morning for a run. There’s enough wind to hold the onslaught of sweat at bay and it’s early June so the bugs aren’t out en masse quite yet. Birds chirp and hop around the parking lot between cars. They scatter as we walk by. Aleah and I go to the end of the sidewalk where the running path loops by the gym.
I don’t know how many clients she runs with, but it isn’t like going with me taxes her stamina any. Half the time, I swear she’s trying hard not to walk right next to me as I slog full speed ahead.
She’s right, though. After the first half-mile, my give-a-shit starts to taper slowly downward.
A fitness watch is shoved in my face and I try to focus without face-planting on the pavement.
“Look at your time. You’ve improved so much.” Aleah goes back to barely moving while I die a little with each step.
Six months ago, I sought out a personal trainer with the determination to fix myself. I was newly single and too comfortable in my identity of frumpy mom. In college, I had such big plans. Now, thirty’s on the horizon and other than my accomplishment of birthing tiny humans and making sure they hit all their milestones, I don’t have anything else to claim.
Nothing. I gave it all up. The kids are going off to school. Then what? Who am I? What kind of role model do I want to be? Who is Natalie Gainesworth?
“Whoa.” Aleah breaks into my thoughts. “You must be chewing on that article. This’ll be your best pace ever.”
I don’t slow down. It feels good to release the burn inside me. “I found my motivation.”
“Do you think he knew about the article?” Aleah circles her finger, letting me know that we’ll be turning around where the running trail intersects with a street.
For once, I wasn’t thinking about what I read, but my pace kicked up talking about it. “He had to. Someone had to take the pictures.” Pictures of North Dakota’s most eligible bachelor looking tall, fit, and dead sexy.
The unfairness of it all.
We run back in silence, my angry pace fading with my energy.
The gym comes into view. The parking lot has several cars in it, but one in particular stands out. A sleek silver ride with a striking man getting out, unfolding his long frame. He flips his suit jacket and buttons it as he shoots the building a hard stare. A gorgeous, willowy blond is in the front seat, clicking through a phone. The man rounds the car, his shoulders impressively broad in his expensive suit. His expression is shadowed, like even the sun is too impressed to shine too brightly on him.
His gaze lands on me and his jaw tightens. It’s the only expression I ever see on him anymore.
“Is that…” Awe fills Aleah’s voice. She’s my biggest cheerleader, but I always feel like it’s hard to truly impress her. Of course, that’s easy for him too.
“Yes.” I sigh and slow to a walk so I won’t be gasping by the time I reach him.
The back door of the sedan opens and a sandy blond head pops out.
Abigail. She prefers Abby.
She grins and waves with all the energy of an eight-year-old. “Hey, Mom!”
I wave back. Why would my luck change today? Sweat drips down my neck and soaks my hair. My face is probably stoplight red and these gray capri leggings highlight every dimple in my thighs. The gym is supposed to be my safe zone, the place where I can put the pieces of me back together again.
Instead, I’m literally a hot mess and the man I can’t quit thinking about is heading my way. The man I thought I’d be with long past forever. The only man I’m afraid I’ll ever want to be with at all. My ex-husband.
North Dakota’s most eligible bachelor.
* * *
Simon
My ex-wife looks fucking amazing.
For the thousandth time, I wonder where the hell we went wrong. Simon and Natalie. She goes by Nat with everyone else. We even gave our girls nicknames because I once told Natalie that I wished I had a nickname growing up. I thought we were the strongest couple ever. We both graduated college with a small baby and moved to another state to start a business together.
Now we’re divorced. And she’s been busting ass to get into shape, though there’s never been anything wrong with her shape at any point in her life. I stay awake too long at night ruminating about her motivation. My subtle attempts to get the girls to reveal whether or not Natalie is seeing anyone without outright asking have failed.
The lady running next to her has a rueful tilt to her lips. “Well, if it isn’t North Dakota’s most eligible bachelor.”
That stupid lifestyle piece turned out to be more entertainment than informative. It was my executive assistant’s idea and since Helena’s had nothing but golden nuggets since I hired her, I went with it. Whether it’s going to be the type of exposure I want is undetermined, but the way Natalie’s eyes narrow on me like I’m a potential mugger says no.
I give the other woman a congenial smile. “And you must be…”
Natalie answers. “This is Aleah, my personal trainer.”
The rising tide of suspicion swells. She’s even hired a personal trainer? The girls told me this is her gym since Natalie doesn’t share those details anymore. When we were married, I didn’t think she even knew gyms existed. But from Natalie’s vibrant glow, the training’s going well.
I’m happy for her and doesn’t that make me want to disassemble the entire gym and take it to the landfill? She used to be happy with me.
But I play the nice guy. Fargo is small enough that I can’t tarnish my image as a business owner. I extend my hand. “Aleah, nice to meet you. Simon.”
“Oh, I know.” She gives my hand a quick squeeze and chortles in a way that lets me know she’s fully Team Natalie.
Aleah gives Natalie’s arm a squeeze. “Don’t forget to stretch. See you Thursday.”
Natalie nods, her gaze dropping. I take the opportunity to soak her in. She has her rusty brown riotous hair pulled back in a ponytail, but it looks like she kissed an electrical socket. Our five-year-old daughter Maddy got her hair. It’s lighter like mine, but uncontrollably curly like Natalie’s.
“What are you doing here?” Natalie’s stare is wary and I hate that I’m the reason for it. Especially since she has every right to think this isn’t a simple visit.
“I have to go out of town,” I say.
“So?”
She isn’t going to make it easy. “I’m dropping the girls off.”
“Simon.” Can she sound more disappointed? “All they asked for was a week with you after school ended. You said you’d work from home or they could be in the office with you.”
“We have all of summer vacation to get a week in.”
“No, they have swimming lessons and sports camps and playdates with friends.” Her gaze strays to the car where Helena’s arranging a plane and hotel rooms. Nostrils flaring, she says, “Take them with.”
I can’t have heard her correctly. “Natalie, be serious.”
“I am. It’s your week. I have things to do.”
“Like what?” I have no right to ask, but I’m insatiably curious about what she’s been doing since she quit working for the company and this is the perfect excuse to ask.
“I’m training.”
“I can see that.” I meant to keep the wry tone out of my voice. It’s something that pissed her off to no end in the year before she sprang the divorce on me.
Her scowl deepens. “I have online training. For a job,” she finished defensively.
My brows pop up. She’s going back to work? When we graduated and opened Gainesworth Equity, we agreed that she’d perform assistant duties but otherwise be the primary stay-at-home parent and we’d live off mac ’n’ cheese until the business took off. Those years had stretched out until my brother died and left me money. That money that bought the house I no longer live in and was the jumpstart my business needed. I’ve worked three times harder than ever since to make Gainesworth Equity what it should be.
It’s all I have left of Liam.
Natalie walked away from the company when she walked away from me.
“What kind of job?” I don’t consider the possibility that she won’t tell me until she presses her lips together. I’m hanging on the answer, hoping information will fill part of the hole she left.
A car door opens behind me and since it’s either one of our daughters or Helena, I bite back my shout to leave me the hell alone. I haven’t had a moment alone with Natalie since I moved out.
“Simon, we need to get going to catch the plane.”
I hold my hand up to let Helena know I heard, but don’t take my eyes off my wife—my ex-wife. “Look, Natalie. Remember Liam’s best friend, Graham Morgan? He’s been relentless about buying controlling shares of companies I’m looking to invest in, and when I called him to discuss why, he said he’d only talk to me if I could fly out.”
She knows exactly who Graham Morgan is. My brother had run off with Graham’s fiancée and raised Graham’s daughter as his own. The problem was that Graham hadn’t known he was a father until after Liam died. Another question that kept me awake—did Liam know?
Natalie’s pretty lips turn down. “Do you think he really can push you out?”
My gaze is caught on her mouth, but I nod. “One or two companies won’t break us, but more than that could be serious. I need to know why he has me in his sights. He’s too savvy of a businessman to let a grudge affect his decisions.”
She rolls her lips in, her gaze darkening as it lands on the car. She isn’t jealous of Helena, is she? I know my assistant is considered quite attractive. But Helena’s married and I figure I should wait to date until I quit fantasizing about my ex-wife when I jack off in the shower. Whenever I do choose to date, I’ll sure as hell stay away from my employees.
I only have two. I was about to hire more and expand when Natalie slapped the papers on my desk. It took two people to replace her, but it gave me something else to think about when my personal life was crumbling away.
But if she’s jealous, what does it mean? Every time she’s around me, she’s cool to the point of being a polar vortex.
“Fine. You can leave them with me.”
I could stand here and gaze at her flushed face all day. But the plane is waiting. I wave the girls out. “Come out and give me hugs.”
The goodbyes are quick. They already went through the disappointment phase, asking me why and when they could stay with me again. It can’t be helped. If I want to leave them a legacy like my brother left me, I have to get to New York.
Natalie holds Maddy’s hand and starts for the building, Abby next to her.
I don’t know what possessed me, but I call out, “Oh, and Natalie?”
She stops and looks over her shoulder, her expression blank, as if she has better things to do in life than respond to me. It reminds me of how she’d be deep into studying for her exams and I’d tried to cajole her into taking a break. She could never resist me, just like I could never resist ge
tting under her skin.
I grin. “Don’t forget to stretch.”
Chapter 2
Simon
I face Graham Morgan across a boardroom table with New York City as the impressive backdrop behind him. The skyscraper office doesn’t intimidate me. The private plane he sent for us with its strict timelines doesn’t intimidate me. Not even the stern man sitting across from me wearing a watch that cost more than my suit intimidates me.
The glare Natalie shot me after I reminded her to stretch did the trick. How long has it been since she’s been that fired up? Even our divorce was all stoic expressions and measured voices. She said she was miserable and I wanted to do what I could to mitigate her misery.
Even more, I wanted to do what I could to mitigate my misery. Having my wife tell me she was miserable and it was my fault wasn’t my best moment. I was reeling from shock when the papers were thrust in front of me. All I could think about was how this time, I not only failed to meet my family’s expectations—or lived up to them in this case?—but I failed my wife and kids and didn’t know how. I was a mess inside and she was pulled together, professional, and had a fucking outline of how we’d co-parent.
But in that parking lot, she’d been hot, sweaty, and full of irritation. The gold in her blue eyes sparked—because of me. I didn’t want to make her angry, but it was something, something other than her restrained appraisal when we exchanged the kids. It was filet mignon and wine to a starving man.
Graham interrupts my thoughts with an absurdly large number. Did I hear correctly? “Excuse me?”
Eligible Ex-husband Page 1