Rent-A Husband

by Everly Ashton

  “What?” Josh pulls out his phone. “I should be first call. What the hell, Grams?” Josh asks the air.

  “What did you say?” Lucas asks.

  “What I had to say… yes. Fuck me.”

  Lucas and Josh laugh hysterically at their brother’s predicament.

  “Why couldn’t she have asked one of you assholes?” Travis grumbles.

  “Because I’m taken now,” Lucas says and lifts our joined hands in the air. “And she knows Josh would probably just end up banging one of the member’s granddaughters.”

  “Hey!” When Lucas and Travis level a look at him, Josh says, “Yeah, okay. Fair enough.”

  “Looks like we’re going to have a bachelor auction to attend.” Lucas smiles at me, then laughs again when he looks at his brother.

  I’ll admit, it is kind of funny to think of the serious, grumpy guy across from me participating in a bachelor auction.

  Travis points at both his brothers. “I don’t want you assholes within five hundred feet of the place. I mean it.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Josh says. “But if you want us to agree not to show up, you have to tell us all about it afterward.”

  Travis thinks about it for a moment and gives a terse nod.

  “When is it?” I ask.

  “In a few weeks,” Travis says. “Speaking of, I assume we’ll be seeing you there, Camila?”

  “Oh, um…” I glance at Lucas. I assumed I’d catch an invite at some point, but it’s a big deal to invite your girlfriend to meet everyone in your family. We haven’t yet discussed it.

  “Nice, Josh.” Lucas shakes his head at his youngest brother then shifts to face me. “I was going to ask you. I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

  “Lucas, you don’t need to feel like you have to—”

  “Hey.” He takes my hand. “I mean it. I want you to come with me. My brother just stole my thunder from me, that’s all.”

  “Don’t blame me because you’re slow on the draw, man.”

  “In that case, I’d love to come.” I smile and place a kiss on his lips.

  “That’s my cue to leave,” Travis says and pushes away from the table.

  “Can you drop me at Brady’s on your way home?” Josh asks. “We’re hitting a couple places two towns over tonight.”

  “Brady is his best friend and fellow manwhore,” Lucas explains to me.

  I nod in understanding.

  “Don’t be jealous, Lucas. You’ve got a fine lady on your arm now, and if you don’t take care of her, I might just try to win her over.” Josh winks.

  I laugh. “It was good to meet you both.”

  Josh gives me a hug, and to my surprise, Travis follows suit.

  Before he pulls away though, Travis whispers in my ear, “Thanks for making Lucas so happy.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  I take Lucas’s hand to follow the other two out the door. I don’t know what I pictured before I arrived here tonight, but I didn’t expect to feel as though I fit in so well with the people most important to Lucas.

  Surely that’s a good sign?

  Thirty-Three

  Lucas

  That next day, Camila and I head into Seattle to go to the Pike Place Market. It’s not like either of us haven’t already been there a thousand times, but we haven’t been together.

  After I park my truck, we stroll hand in hand down the couple blocks until we reach the market, heading in the main entrance past the bronzed sow, Rachel the Piggy Bank. Camila stops, digs some change from her purse, and drops it into the large statue, then she smiles at me.

  “I always make sure to do that whenever I’m here,” she says.

  “Where does the money go?” I ask. I knew the pig was there obviously, but I never gave much thought to what happened to all the money locals and tourists drop inside the pig’s belly.

  She takes my hand again and we head into the market. It’s busy as always.

  “It supports housing for local low-income earners.” Before I can respond, she’s pointing with her free hand down the way. “Oh look! I love these guys.”

  I squeeze her hand and move us through the crowd toward the fishmongers shouting and tossing fish to one another. These guys always attract a lot of attention and I usually avoid this roadblock when I’m here on my own. But I’m happy to stand and watch because Camila holds a genuine smile while she looks on—I could stare at her all day.

  So that’s what I do. I watch her until she must feel me looking because she turns her head to the side and glances at me.

  “What?” Her hand wipes around her mouth as if maybe she has something on her face.

  I chuckle and place a long, chaste kiss on her lips. “Nothing. You’re beautiful when you’re happy.”

  She smiles and moves onto her tippy-toes to kiss me again. “Well, you’d know since I’m always happy around you.”

  I squeeze her hand again, wishing I could do more. Wishing we weren’t in a public place where I have to keep all my dirty actions to myself.

  “Want to move on?” I ask.

  She nods, and we step away from all the commotion and continue down through the center of the market. We stop a few times to check out some local artist’s work that Camila’s interested in, but she doesn’t buy anything. When we reach the first vendor selling bouquets of flowers, I purchase one for her, which earns me another kiss.

  We continue through the throngs of people, taking our time to check out the displays.

  “I’ve narrowed down the list of applicants to the ones I think you should check out first,” Camila says.

  “Thanks again for helping out with this. If it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve kept putting it off.”

  She stops in front of the Pappardelle’s Pasta section outside the restaurant. “It’s not a big deal. I’m happy to help. Now, we have to get some of their pasta. I always load up when I’m here.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. That’s my girl. She survives on the basics. I have no idea how.

  Camila nudges me with her shoulder. “Stop. I can make grown-up meals with this pasta, I’ll have you know.”

  I grin. “Ah, but will you?”

  She rolls her eyes playfully. “Probably not.” Then she turns her attention to the woman manning the booth and places her order.

  We continue on through the market, and I pick up some meat and fresh veggies for the week. Eventually we decide to head home since Camila has a big day tomorrow.

  After we put everything in the back seat of the truck and we’re both buckled up, I look at her. I had a great day today, and the feeling of pure contentment makes me smile. We didn’t do anything exciting, just spent a normal day at the market the same way a lot of couples in the city probably spend it, but for some reason, it feels special because I was with Camila.

  “I had fun today,” I say.

  She seems to understand what I’m feeling without me saying it. I can tell from the way she’s looking at me.

  “So did I.” She leans over the console as much as she can with her seat belt on and I meet her halfway.

  The moment our lips touch, I bring my hand to her cheek and deepen the kiss. “First of many.”

  When I pull away, I kiss her forehead. She seems to like that because she gifts me with a dazzling smile.

  Damn right it’s the first of many. I have no plans to let this woman go anywhere without me.

  We arrive at Mount Rainier National Park early. I won’t lie, I wasn’t exactly excited to be getting up this early on a Sunday morning, but there’s no way I would miss supporting my girl in her big race.

  “How are you feeling? Do you feel ready?” I ask as Camila organizes all her things on the bed of my pickup.

  She nods. I can tell she’s already in the zone. “I’m ready. I’ve done all I can to prepare, and now I just have to hope that it’s enough.”

  “It will be.” I kiss her forehead. “You got everything you’ll need?”

  She d
oes one last check, making sure she has her electrolyte drinks on her waist belt, along with a protein bar and her phone and ear buds. “I think so.”

  I glance at the sky. There are a few puffy white clouds but a small breeze. “Looks like it’s going to be a nice day.”

  I take her hand and we walk out of the parking lot to go find the check-in.

  “I’m so glad it’s not raining. This is the perfect weather to run in. No precipitation and it’s not stifling hot,” she says.

  When we approach the trailhead where the race will start, there’s already a lot of activity going on. Racers of all ages and fitness levels are mingling and talking. Camila leaves me to go check in and get her assigned number.

  “How’re you feeling?” I ask when she returns.

  She cringes. “Nervous. Is it that obvious?”

  I shrug. “You seem a little tense. You’re ready for this.”

  “I hope so.” She frowns for a second. “I hope I don’t embarrass myself. Back when I used to run these all the time, I did pretty well, but it’s been a while…”

  “Hey.” I place my hands on her shoulders and dip my head so we’re at the same eye level. “No matter what happens, I’m proud of you for doing this again, okay? You had the courage to try again and that’s all that matters. That said, I know you’re gonna do great.”

  She gives me a shy sort of smile. “Thanks.”

  Someone with a megaphone makes an announcement for all the runners to head over to the starting line.

  “That’s my cue.” She motions with her thumb behind her.

  “I’ll see you at the finish line.” I place a kiss on her forehead.

  She pats my cheek then turns to join the others.

  And now I wait. I’m prepared though. I know it will be a few hours at least until Camila makes an appearance, so I brought the resumes of the candidates she likes. I figure I’ll call them and set up the face-to-face appointments for some time next week. Since my brothers said they want no part in the interview process, I don’t need to worry about coordinating with their schedules.

  Once I’ve set up the three interviews for after hours, I kick back on the tailgate of my truck and play Candy Crush on my phone. A bad vice and addiction I have.

  When I’m approaching the two-and-a-half-hour mark, I head over to the finish line. The last thing I want is to miss her finishing the race because I was playing Candy Crush.

  Some racers have already crossed the finish line and are celebrating with whomever is there to cheer them on. Twenty minutes or so pass before I spot a person with a familiar gait far down on the trail. I think it’s Camila.

  As they get closer, I’m sure it’s her, so I start hooting and hollering and cheering her on. She smiles when she spots me, but her cheeks are flushed and her hair is soaked in sweat.

  Less than a minute later, she crosses the finish line and I rush over, pulling her into a giant hug. “You did it!”

  I hear her chuckle, but she’s straining for breath, so I let go and pass her the cold Gatorade I have for her.

  “Thanks,” she wheezes before downing half the bottle.

  Once she’s regained some of her regular breathing, I hug her again. This time she returns it full force.

  “I’m so proud of you,” I say.

  “Thanks.” She backs away and smiles.

  “How do you feel?” I ask.

  “Exhausted.” She passes me the drink and stretches. “I want to go eat and rest after I find out how I did.”

  “When we get home, I plan to make you a big meal, draw you a bubble bath, and massage your entire body from head to toe.”

  She sighs.

  Turns out Camila placed in the top third for the women’s division. And to reward her, I do exactly what I said. I even throw in a few orgasms as a bonus.

  Thirty-Four

  Camila

  It’s the night of the bachelor/bachelorette party and I’m more nervous than I was the night of the Stag and Doe. Probably because of the fact that I won’t be with Lucas to navigate any questions that might be thrown at him regarding our fake marriage.

  But he’s agreed that he won’t drink too much, just to play it safe, which is why he’s dropping me off at Amy’s. I’m meeting the girls, then we’re driving over to where all the guys are, where eventually we’ll all meet at a club in the middle to continue the night of debauchery.

  To get my mind off my nerves, I ask Lucas how the hiring process is going. I know he finished all the interviews this week.

  He hits the steering wheel. “Damn, I’ve been so busy that I didn’t even get a chance to tell you… I’m leaning toward hiring Isla MacKinnon.”

  “Oh, I liked her when I did my phone interview. I think she’ll be a good fit.”

  “Yeah, she was really upbeat and definitely qualified for the job. She also seemed like she would take the reins on things and try to make improvements on her own without us having to micromanage her.”

  “Perfect. Do you want me to call her references next week for you and see if they check out?”

  “That would be great, thanks.” He pulls into the roundabout of Amy’s condo building and turns off the maps function on the truck’s screen. “Well, here you go. Guess I’ll see you later.”

  “Thanks again for dropping me off.” I put my hand on the door handle. “You sure you want to go to this thing?”

  He chuckles and leans in, placing one finger under my chin and his thumb on my cheek. “Stop stressing. It’ll be fine. I’m gonna go have a beer—not get drunk—and shoot the shit with a bunch of guys. We’ll probably talk about sports, razz Greg for getting married and ending his bachelor days, and watch a game if it’s on. That’s usually how these things go.”

  I exhale a deep breath. “Okay. Have fun. I’ll see you in a while.” I bridge the gap between us and kiss him before exiting the truck and heading through the condo doors.

  Someone buzzes me in immediately and I take the elevator up to the thirtieth floor. The door to Amy’s condo is already cracked open, so I head in to find the party is in full swing. Girls are dressed to go out wearing penis earrings and crowns that, yep, are made of interwoven balls and dicks. Guess we have a theme for the night. The drinks are flowing and one of Amy’s bridesmaids is passing around a tray of Jell-O shots.

  “Hey, guys,” I call over the music.

  “Camila, you came!” Amy gets up off the sofa and stumbles over someone’s foot as she makes her way to me, but she somehow manages to recover and remain upright.

  “Hey, girl.” I accept her sloppy embrace with a laugh. Clearly she’s been hitting it hard.

  “Come get some Jell-O shots.” She takes me by the wrist and drags me over to the woman with the tray of shots.

  I say a quick hello to the woman—we met at the Stag and Doe and again at the shower—but then Amy is shoving the little plastic containers at me. Not wanting to piss off the bride, I take the first two and down them, then refuse the third she’s pushing at me.

  “Let me go set your present on the table and grab myself a real drink.”

  That seems to appease Amy, and she squirrels away to someone else to try to get them to do more shots. I make the rounds and say a quick hello to everyone—minus Elijah’s fiancée, Sarah. Her, I make sure to stay away from.

  But as I’m pouring a glass of wine in the kitchen, Sarah’s voice sounds behind me. “Still no ring, I see.”

  I spin around with my eyes narrowed. This woman has already stolen my man. Does she really have to try to make me insecure about my current relationship?

  “Priorities. We’re focused on saving to upsize our house.” I take a large and much-needed sip of my wine.

  “Elijah can afford a nice house and a nice ring.” She holds up her engagement ring that yeah, I’ll admit, is stunning.

  “So can Lucas, but like I said—priorities.”

  She condescendingly pats me on the shoulder and it takes all my self-control not to twist her arm behind her back
until she yells out mercy. “You don’t have to feel badly that your husband is a handyman. I mean, it’s a job, even if it doesn’t really pay well.”

  Hmm. Well, I can see what she likes about Elijah, that’s for sure.

  I give her a saccharine smile while I take a deep breath. “Like I said, priorities.”

  I go to move past her, but Sarah grabs my forearm and stops me. I look down to where her hand is on me and back up into her eyes.

  She drops her hand. “There’s no need for sour grapes, Camila. I understand that you’re still hung up on Elijah and all, but it’s not gonna happen. You should get used to the idea that he leveled up.”

  I step into her space with barely restrained fury. “Don’t forget, Sarah, if they’ll do it with you, they’ll do it to you. Just a little food for thought.” Then I walk away, tossing back the remaining wine in my glass.

  By the time we leave Amy’s to head to the first bar where it’ll just be us girls, I’m pretty tipsy. By the time we head to the club where we’re meeting up with the bachelor party, I’m drunk. Not as drunk as Amy, who’s staggering all over the place and slurring, making no sense at all. But drunk enough that I can tell my filter is gone—though I haven’t yet acted on my thoughts to stomp over to Sarah and bitch-slap her for trying to make me feel small.

  Really, I should be more pissed at myself for letting her make me feel that way, but semantics.

  We enter the nightclub, and one of the bouncers leads us upstairs. Apparently the bridal party reserved a couple of sections in the VIP area for us all to converge. The bass from the music pounds in my chest, and the lasers and strobe lights flicking around the room make me feel even more impaired than I am. I sigh in relief when I realize the light show isn’t going on up here. In fact, when I look over the railing, I see that it’s all directed at the gyrating mass of people in the center of the room on the dance floor.

  The guys are already here, and Greg swoops up Amy into a sloppy kiss. My gaze floats around, looking for Lucas, but unfortunately it’s Elijah I make eye contact with first.