Fake Bride With Benefits

by Riley Rollins

  I grunt and put Eddie in a headlock. Everyone roars with laughter as I give him a good-natured, but brutal noggin-burn. "You're a sick individual," I tell him.

  "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," says Eddie, regaining his composure and rubbing his neck. "You're a strong motherfucker, you know that?"

  "I do," I say, wryly amused. Then I put my beer bottom-up, drain it, and smack the bottle on the counter with authority. I stand and put an arm each around Eddie and Brooke. "Everybody, if you'll excuse me. Got more pleasant company to attend to."

  Truth is, I got no idea if I should really be doing this. Tess is married, and she probably hates me, and this could just open a whole can of worms that should stay shut.

  So naturally, I stand up, square my shoulders, cuff my sleeves, and walk right up to her table.

  She's got her nose buried in her book and doesn't notice me until I'm standing right over her.

  She looks up, and those gorgeous, plump lips part in surprise. Her expression prickles with recognition.

  "Hi, Tess," I say. "Been a while."

  The moment freezes in time as we lock gazes with one another. It could be five seconds, thirty seconds, an hour. I can't even fucking tell, because all I see is a bombshell that I haven't been able to get off my mind for nearly a decade. She's still the best I ever had.

  Deep down, I feel like there's still a part of me that has feelings for her. But I try to stomp it out, like smothering a match. There's no reason to go backwards and think about old what-ifs. I'm just going to enjoy her company in the present. Her hot-as-fuck company.

  "Hunter," she says, her lips parting in surprise, "To what do I owe the pleasure? I don't believe it."

  "Yet here I am," I say with a grin. "You going to invite me to sit down?" She pauses, biting her lip.

  "Is this the start of your next disappearing act?"

  Shit. She's still mad, all these years later. And it doesn't help how her lips get so pouty, how her cheeks get so rosy pink when that happens.

  "Not a magician. Just a guy wanting to buy a drink for a beautiful girl."

  "I guess I can't stop you," she says. So I do, because even though she hasn't cracked a smile yet, I like a challenge and I'd sooner walk into incoming traffic than give up a chance to lay eyes on this girl again. I signal the bartender to serve our table before Tess changes her mind. "Whiskey and water for me," I tell him.

  "Ginger ale," Tess says.

  After the bartender steps away, she gives me a look. "Whiskey and water? Really?"

  I frown. "It hydrates you."

  She shakes her head. "That's what they taught you in the Navy?"

  "No, that's just good sense."

  She shakes her head and finally lets a little laugh out. I grin at her. "You know I'm right. It's very nutritious, unlike the sugar water you just ordered."

  "Uh huh. Ginger is good for you."

  "You honestly think there's ginger in ginger ale?"

  "Um, yeah, unless it's false advertising."

  I laugh. "Oh, you sweet spring chicken." She turns a little bit red, and all I can think about is doing things to her until she's all the way red. And sweating.

  The bartender arrives with our drinks, and I take a swig of mine. "Tastes like Tennessee," I say, and I can't lie, it's good to be back in my home state again.

  She sips her ginger ale from a tiny cocktail straw. "You want a bigger one?" I say with a wink. I'm starting to feel the alcohol, and well, sometimes I just can't contain my tremendous wit.

  She scoffs. "Not that you'd be able to help me with that."

  Damn. I grin again. "You know that's not true."

  She takes another sip and blushes. I can still remember the last time we fucked, the way she took my cock, the way she moaned for me. I hope she's remembering the same thing. "So," she says, changing the subject, "you're back now, but you couldn't make it when I invited you, huh?"

  I cock my head. "I didn't get any invitation," I say truthfully.

  "To my wedding."

  I swallow hard at that word.

  "I never got it," I say again. "Mail's hit or miss out there." I'd almost have felt like an asshole for missing her wedding, except that I'd have slaughtered the groom on the spot out of pure jealousy. So it's probably for the best that envelope got lost in transit.

  "Well," she says, "doesn't matter anyway." She flashes her left hand at me, and there's no ring. "Divorced."

  I blink. A sense of relief and new possibility washes through my body. My cock stirs inside my pants. "What happened?"

  "Cheated with a coworker."

  "Fuck that." Now I have two reasons to tear this guy a new asshole if I ever meet him. What kind of pencil-dicked man would cheat on a woman like Tess? Not one that I'd allow to live for more than about five seconds.

  I'm not the touchy-feely type, but even I've got enough tact not to pry about a divorce.

  From the corner of my vision, I see Eddie giving me a thumbs-up. I chuckle inwardly. He hasn't changed since high school.

  I put down another swig of my whiskey. "Then what are you doing now?"

  "Hating all men."

  I almost chuckle, but I restrain myself when I realize I completely believe her. "Anything else?"

  "Not really."

  "Nothing at all?"

  "Well," she admits, "I sell soap and candles on Etsy."

  I'm about to ask her what the fuck an Etsy is, when a stranger approaches our table. He's probably six feet, a few inches shorter than me. He's tall, blond, and muscular.

  Without asking, he interrupts our conversation by sliding into the booth next to Tess. He puts an arm on the seat behind her and slides a beer in front of her.

  I know the fucking type. Insecure little boys who want to "be alpha" and prove something by challenging a military man. This shit happens practically every time I try to have a nice night out.

  "Hey there," he says, pretending like I don't exist. "I bought you a drink."

  I grin and cock an eyebrow at Tess. "You know this guy?"

  She gives me a no-I-don't-and-please-help-me look.

  "Buddy," I say, "you got the wrong table."

  He stares at me with wide eyes, like he's trying to intentionally menace me or something. "I have the right one."

  Looks like we're going to do this the hard way.

  "You don't want a confrontation, man," I say. "We're trying to have a conversation here."

  He relaxes into the booth, sliding his arm down onto Tess's shoulders, and smiles at me. What a fucking creep. No one puts hands on the woman I'm with. Especially not when that woman is Tess Cassidy.

  I like to think of myself as a reasonable guy, but I don't have a habit of asking twice. I lean forward, reach over the table, and slap him upside the head so hard he falls out of the booth and lands in a puddle of liquid on the floor.

  He looks up at me, dazed and indignant. "The fuck, man?" His temple is already turning blue and swelling.

  I stand up, bend over, and haul him up by his fancy shirt collar. The seams rip apart like zippers. "Don't act all fucking surprised," I say, "You act like a dick, eventually you fuck with someone badder than you. That's called the food chain, bitch."

  He jerks away from me, but I don't let him go. I rotate my body to shield Tess.

  "I could have you arrested," he says. "This is assault and battery."

  I shrug. "Try."

  He brushes himself off, backing away, and I release him. "You're crazy," he says. He stumbles backward, nearly tripping over a table. The two men sitting there steady their beers, and look like they're about to help me rip this guy a new one. Finally, he flips me the bird, turns, and staggers out of the bar.

  My lip curls in disgust as I take my seat again. I put down the rest of my drink. "Sorry you had to see that," I say. "I don't want you to think I'm a dangerous guy." And that's the truth. I don't get off on fighting with idiots. But there have to be consequences for crossing boundaries.

  Tess brushes some stray hairs out
of her eyes, flushed. "I think we should call it a night."

  I frown. "He won't bother you again."

  "No, I mean, it's awkward now."

  I look over my shoulder, and half the bar is nervously watching our table. Even Eddie looks nervous.

  "Let's just get going," she says, gathering her purse and pushing her drink away. "That's enough for one evening."

  I shrug. "Fine. So this is you inviting me back to your place, right?"

  She scoffs, and I have to admit, it stings a little. "What gave you that impression?"

  "You could show me how grateful you are I saved your sweet ass just now," I say, grinning smugly.

  "You mean by embarrassing me in front of the whole bar?"

  "Fine," I say. I chuckle. I'm definitely feeling the booze now. Normally, I play it cooler around women, but I'm fucking disappointed to not be going home with this girl. This whole time we've been talking, all I can really think about is getting her naked and tasting her sweet pussy again. "Let's get out of here," I say.

  Outside, the stars twinkle in the sky. It's a clear night, and the Maple Ridge Comfort Inn beckons from down the road. Its neon-lit sign glows high in the sky, probably 150 feet in the air. The sign is mounted on one of those super-high posts to make it visible all the way from the highway. And to be honest, it's this town's main attraction for outsiders. No one really comes to Maple Ridge looking for anything more than a bed and a roof over their head.

  I'm feeling good, can't lie. Probably have a hell of a hangover in the morning, though.

  Tess and I walk side-by-side, kicking the dirt of the parking lot. When she realizes I'm heading for the only motorcycle out here, she laughs. "This is yours?"

  The bike is a 1980s-style Honda standard I picked up off Craigslist as soon as I hit stateside. Took new tires and a couple long days in a Pep Boys parking lot to get it running right, and it needs a lot more work, but I know a trustworthy machine when I see one. And even though I could easily afford a brand-new bike, there's no adventure in that.

  "What'd you expect, a minivan?"

  Tess stops walking and rolls her eyes. "I know you're not a soccer mom, but... A U-Haul? Something to carry your stuff?"

  "Got no stuff," I say. "Just what you see here."

  "Where are you staying?"

  I point toward the neon Comfort Inn sign high above our heads. "Only one joint in town."

  "Oh, I thought you might've gotten an Air B&B. That's big here now."

  I scratch my head. "What the hell is an Air B&B?"

  Tess shakes her head, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. The cool wind blows, and she untucks one hand from her crossed arms to push back some stray hairs. Fuck. She keeps doing these little things that make me want her so fucking bad, and I'm not even sure why. "Never mind. How long are you going to be in town?"

  I shrug, my gaze involuntarily dropping to the outline of her bust, visible through her sweater. What a beautiful fucking pair of tits. I jerk my eyes up, forcing myself to make eye contact like I'm not a caveman. "Long as it takes to get this bike fixed up, and take care of a few things."

  "Oh," she says, and I almost think I detect disappointment in her voice. "So you're just here for now."

  "A few weeks. Then I'm riding up to Alaska."

  "That's a long way from here."

  "Exactly."

  She sighs. "I can't let you pay for a hotel for a few weeks. You can crash at my place."

  A thud of excitement drops in my stomach, and I grin. "Money isn't an issue." I step in closer, and I smell her, and fuck, she smells divine. "The issue," I growl, "is that I want to take you home and tear you apart. I want to fuck and taste every inch of your gorgeous body, Tess."

  She looks shocked. "That's uh, not what I meant."

  I lean in closer to her, and the tip of my nose almost brushes hers. "You know how good we were together."

  I swear she lingers longer than she should, but she steps back and shakes her head. "Sorry, Hunter, but I'm in a different place now. I'm getting over a divorce. Trying to change my life. I don't need complications right now."

  "There's nothing complicated about a fuck."

  She blushes, but shakes her head again. "Nothing's going to happen."

  My hard cock strains against my pant leg. It's such a fucking waste to not slide it deep inside of Tess tonight. But shit. Most women are so eager to let me into their pants, it's actually refreshing to have a little challenge for once. She wants to play hard-to-get... I'm game. She won't be able to resist forever.

  "Make a bad decision."

  "That's exactly what I'm trying not to do."

  I grin. She's stubborn as always. "Alright. But eventually you'll want a complication." I wink at her.

  Tess rolls her eyes. "Keep dreaming. You're in no condition to ride your bike. Get your stuff and get in my car."

  I grin again. "Yes, ma'am."

  Looks like I've got one more objective to complete before I head up to Alaska: Score one more night with Tess Cassidy.

  3

  Tess

  I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Hunter Thorne standing over my table at the Red Lion Tavern. I'd firmly placed him in my "ones that got away" category.

  It's a small category. Actually… he's the only one in it.

  All I wanted was to sit by myself, read my book, and blend into the crowd. It was the first time since the divorce that I'd felt energetic enough to venture out for a night, even if it was just for a date with my book. The absolute last thing I wanted was to meet a man.

  Especially that man. But there he was, exactly like I remembered him, but... more. More everything.

  He was hot in high school, but now he's positively a ripped wall of confidence, self-assuredness, and attractiveness.

  And he was so damn sexy. Arms rolling with muscle, that sideways grin framed by a thick, dark beard, and those gorgeous tattoos that he definitely didn't have when he left Maple Ridge eight years ago.

  I don't normally like men with tattoos. But I like Hunter with tattoos.

  He still affects me like no other man ever has. I used to think we would be together, always. But I'm just starting to get over my divorce, and learning what it means to be on my own side. The absolute last thing I need right now are complications. And even though going to bed with Hunter is the sexiest complication I can imagine, I'm not going to let it happen. Even if I've never forgotten what it feels like to have his lips on my skin, his hard cock against my soft skin, riding him into the early morning hours.

  He hurt me once, and I won't give him the chance to do it again.

  So now, this hunk of man is standing in my kitchen, rifling through my cupboards, assembling a midnight snack for the both of us. And he's being a really flirty—and bossy—jerk about it.

  "How do you live like this?" he asks, chuckling to himself. "I'd get my ass handed to me for maintaining my barracks like this in the SEALs." He shuts the wooden cupboard with a hollow thump, coming up empty handed. He sweeps his dark black hair out of his eyes, sizing me up like I'm an unruly private under his command. I stand against the back of a chair at the kitchenette table, my hands tucked under my butt.

  "I mean, I was trying to build a home and a future, but it all went down the drain with Sandra."

  "Sandra, huh? Sandra sounds like an asshole."

  "That's what I thought too."

  "Your ex-husband sounds like one too. Any man who'd cheat on you is garbage. And a fucking idiot."

  "Thanks, I guess."

  "So you're living the grungy bachelorette lifestyle now."

  I hate to admit it, but he's right. My apartment is a mess, basically just a workshop for fulfilling my Etsy soap and candle orders, and I seriously need to get to the grocery store. He's still a jerk, though. Not like he'd be doing any better in my shoes.

  "Next time, I'll stock up in advance in case I take a strange, hungry man home from the bar," I say, scowling. Hunter opens the fridge, coming face-to-face with a package
of cheese slices, a half-dozen expired eggs, wilted vegetables, and an array of crusty old condiment bottles.

  "You do that often?" he asks, grabbing the cheese. He shuts the fridge door and spins around to the stove. "I need a skillet," he says, not waiting for my answer. I realize I've been staring at his broad shoulders under that tight t-shirt he's wearing. It annoys me. He's judging me and bossing me around in my own kitchen, and I can't keep my eyes off him?

  Nice, Tess.

  I dip past him, grabbing a skillet out of a bottom cupboard next to the fridge. When I find it, it's still wrapped up in brown packing paper from my move, along with most of my other pots and pans. Damn. It infuriates me that he's right. I am living like a slob.

  "For your information," I say, poking the skillet's handle into Hunter's chest, "I don't do that often. And if you keep running your mouth, maybe I'll just take you back to that bar and let some other poor girl make the same mistake instead."

  He puts the skillet on the stove, drops my last blob of butter into it, and turns on the heat. He grins as he spins the cellophane bread wrapper, removing the twist tie. "So you admit you're taking me home?" I feel his gaze dance down my body, and he makes no secret of ogling my breasts under my button-up shirt. I react almost automatically, my hand dancing up to twirl my hair. Why does a simple stare do this to me? My hormones always betray me at the worst possible time.

  "Look," I say, retreating to my spot up against the chair. "I get that you're horny after spending eight years around a bunch of guys. But you don't just get to come back after eight years and pick up where you left off. People change. I'm in a different place now."

  He's got four slices of bread in the buttered skillet now, and he evenly divides the cheese slices between the two sandwiches. Presumably one for him and one for me, but I wouldn't be that surprised if they both turn out to be for him.

  "Yeah you are. You used to keep your kitchen at your parents' house spotless. You loved cooking. You wanted to open a restaurant."

  I feel a little bit embarrassed. "I still do."

  "But you've got fewer ingredients than a dorm room full of college kids. Where'd your passion go?"