“Christ,” I mutter to myself. “That’s fucking it.”
I stalk across the room towards Dylan and she shoots me a smug look from within her cosy cocoon of victory.
Jeff’s lucky he’s disappeared; the dude’s got rocks in his head and I’m about ready to have a go at shaking them out of there.
“You really want me to sign those fucking things?” I bark the question at her.
Her eyes widen, and she blinks three times without saying anything.
I’ve caught her off guard and that’s exactly what I need.
“Well?” I toss the engine part I’m holding on to the bench behind her and she jumps at the loud bang.
“Yes. I want you to sign.”
“Fine, I’ll sign your papers.”
She visibly sags in what I assume is relief.
It cuts me deeper than I’d care to admit.
“But I’ve got one condition,” I tell her.
“Okay…” She gets to her feet in front of me and straightens out her dress. “What is it?”
“I want one week, Dylan. I want you to give me one week.”
“One week for what?” she asks as her eyes dart between my face and a spot off in the distance. She’s nervous – I can hear the uncertainty in her voice.
“To be my wife,” I growl possessively. “I want seven days to show you what a terrible fucking idea this divorce is. I just need a week to make you fall in love with me again.”
Her jaw drops open. She looks down at her hands and then back up at me in shock.
“I’m sorry, what?” She shakes her head quickly like she’s trying to clear it. “You think I’m going to fall in love with you in a week?”
I reach for her, but she steps away so my hand falls short.
“It only took you twenty-four hours the first time, Dylan, but I’m trying not to be cocky about it.”
She laughs humourlessly. “Oh, you’re trying not to be cocky about it?”
I like the fact that she doesn’t deny what we had before. She can deny that it’s not still there all she likes, but I can still feel it between us.
“We’ve got unfinished business. I know it, you know it, fuck… the whole world can see this isn’t over between us.” I rasp the words.
“Then the whole world is blind.”
“You owe me a week, princess.”
“I owe you nothing,” she sneers.
“You left me to rot in a jail cell for three years. I think the least you can do is give me a chance.” I know it’s a low blow, but it’s all I’ve got.
“You abandoned me for three years. I think the least you can do is sign a sheet of paper,” she fires back.
I take a slow, deliberate step forward until I’m so close to her I can almost feel the bare skin on her arms against mine.
I know I have to do something, anything, right now to pull her in before she gets her back up and runs.
“Dylan,” I whisper as I reach for her cheek and cup it in my palm.
She leans into the contact and sighs.
The simple fact that she hasn’t instantly rejected my advance sends a bolt of hope shooting through me.
“We’re good together, Dylan. You remember how good we are, I know you do.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Nothing’s changed,” I whisper.
“We’ve been married for five years, more of those years have been spent apart than together.” She opens her big green eyes and looks up at me. “Everything has changed, Andy.”
“This hasn’t,” I growl as I grab hold of her and drag her mouth up to meet mine.
I kiss her with every ounce of pent up emotion I’ve got stored inside me.
I kiss her like a man who’s never tasted anything so sweet.
Her hands slide up around my neck and her fingers wind into my hair as she kisses me back with so much passion I can barely think.
“Dylan,” I breathe as I pull back for air.
She freezes at the sound of her name, as though it’s just hit her – exactly what she’s done.
Her hands slip from my neck, down to my shoulders and across my chest, so her palms are pressing against my pecs.
She shoves me – not hard enough to move me, but firm enough to let me know she wants out.
“I can’t do this, Andrew,” she chokes out.
I’m not even Andy anymore, I’m Andrew, and that’s how I know I fucked up big time.
She pushes past me and rushes out the door.
“Dylan!” I call after her, but she’s already gone and she’s not coming back.
I feel dizzy, like I can’t stand straight anymore. I stumble to the edge of the bench to support myself and hang my head down as I suck in some deep breaths.
My whole god damn life just walked away from me. Again.
I rub my hand over my face in frustration.
That was the best thing to happen to me in a long time, and I fucked it up – like I always do.
“Well, that looks like it went well.”
I snap my head up and see Jeff resting his shoulder against the doorframe my wife just disappeared out of.
“You got nothing better to do than spy on me?”
“Nah, not really,” he drawls.
I pick a spare part up off the bench and hurl it across the room at the opposite wall where it smashes against the tin with a loud crash.
“Feel better?”
“No.”
“She’ll be back.”
“Will she?” I snap. “I’m just making things worse at every fucking turn.”
“So you had a crack at it – you shit the bed – it happens. Dust yourself off and try again, man.”
I chuckle humourlessly. I can always count on Jeff to give it to me straight.
“You reckon?”
He shrugs. “What other options have you got? Unless you want to sign those papers after all?”
“Over my dead body,” I growl.
“Well then, either lie down and die, or stop being a little bitch and get the fuck on with it.”
CHAPTER SIX
Dylan
“Oh my God, Sare. Oh. My. Fucking. God.”
She stares hard at me, trying to figure it out, before pointing an accusing finger in my direction.
“You kissed him, didn’t you?”
“No,” I answer quickly.
She lets out a breath in relief.
“He kissed me.”
She groans. “Jesus Christ, Dylan, I gave you one instruction, one.”
“I know.” I grimace.
“You cannot let a man that good looking get his hands on you, for crying out loud. Have you learned nothing? Do I even want to know what happened next?”
“I ran away.”
Her head snaps up in surprise. “Okay… well… good. At least you didn’t take your clothes off… it could have been a lot worse.”
She’s right about that. I could picture him lifting me onto the hood of one of those cars and stripping the dress from my body.
I barely made it out of there without that very thing happening.
“He told me he’d sign.” I almost whisper the words.
“Well crack the champagne.” She whoops. “Why didn’t you open with that little snippet of goodness?”
“Because it’s not that simple.” I let my head fall into my hands. “He said he’ll sign, but only on one condition.”
“If it’s goodbye sex I’m probably going to say go for it. It’s about the only thing the man’s ever been able to get right.” She smirks.
“What are you? My pimp?” I lift my head to look at her.
“If the money’s right, baby.” She winks at me.
I laugh and roll my eyes at her – I can always count on Sarah to make me laugh when the shit is hitting the fan.
“He wants to play house, Sare. He thinks he can make me fall in love with him again.”
She whistles low and long.
“Right? What the h
ell am I meant to do with that? I can’t spend a whole week with him,” I whine.
“Well… that is quite the predicament.”
I pout and wait for her to come up with some type of magical solution to my problems.
“There’s one major issue I’m seeing here,” she finally says.
“Just the one?” I deadpan.
“Aside from the obvious...” she says. “Does he realise that you never actually fell out of love with him?”
I can feel my face paling as I accept the fact that I’ve not hid my feelings very well at all.
“I don’t know,” I whisper honestly.
I’ve been saying for years that I hate the man, but clearly, I’ve not fooled my best friend in the slightest.
I think I do still love him.
I always have and maybe I always will.
He stirs things up inside me that didn’t even exist before he fell into my life. But it’s not enough anymore – it can’t be.
“So… you play house, and then he’ll sign?” Sarah prompts.
“That’s what he said.”
She sighs and shakes her head.
“Well then, you better buckle up, baby, because you’re in for a bumpy ride.”
***
“Andy.”
The tool he’s holding falls to the ground with a loud clatter as my voice reaches his ears.
He pauses a moment before turning, like he’s not really sure if he heard me at all.
He turns slowly until he’s facing me. His eyes rake over my face and his whole expression softens.
This is what I’ve always loved about him – I don’t get to see it all that often, but he’s got a soft spot that’s reserved entirely for me.
Sometimes he looks at me like I hung the moon and the stars.
“Dylan,” he breathes. “You came back.”
I shrug. “I guess I’m just a sucker for punishment.”
He wipes his dirty hands down the front of his overalls and while he still looks good enough to eat, I’m grateful that this time at least, he’s wearing more clothes.
“You’re working on a Sunday.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do.” He shrugs.
I nibble on my bottom lip – I’m nervous – just being in the same room as him does that to me.
I can’t trust myself when he’s around – not when he looks so good and wants me so bad.
His gaze lingers on my lips and a smirk spreads across his face. He knows my cues well – he knows exactly the effect he’s having on me.
Just like that he’s back to being cocky Andy.
He’s a two-sided coin. One side is sweet, sensitive and soft – the other is arrogant, egotistical and sexy.
I still can’t figure out which I’d choose if I had to pick just one.
“I know I should say sorry for kissing you or some shit, but I can’t apologise for something that good – and I know how you get about honesty… but I am sorry if I upset you.”
“Oh yeah, you’re a real open book,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. I ignore his half apology entirely.
He steps towards me. “I’ve never lied to you, Dylan.”
Everything about him screams sincerity in this moment, but I know I can’t believe him. I’m not some young, naive little girl anymore – I have to think with my brain and not my heart where Andrew Woodman is concerned.
I jut my chin out and ignore his comment. “I’m here about your deal.”
“Good… you wanna live at my place or yours?” He smirks. “Actually, it doesn’t really matter, what’s mine is yours, right, princess?”
I grind my teeth together and try to breathe deeply through my nose. He really is such an arrogant ass sometimes.
He’s acting like he’s been waiting all morning for me to show up here and accept his deal, but I know better. He was genuinely surprised to see me here. This is exactly that – an act.
I’d love nothing more than to tell him to go fuck himself, but I know I can’t.
He’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. He’s even more stubborn than I am, and that’s a big achievement. He won’t give up – not without a fight – so if I want out of this marriage, I’m going to have to play him at his own game, as risky as that might be.
I’m going to have to give him his seven days.
“I’ve got three conditions,” I say.
He waves his hand in front of himself indicating that I should continue.
“Number one, I’m not having sex with you.”
He chuckles. “But what if you decide you want to?”
“Not going to happen.”
“Hypothetical question,” he challenges as he crosses his arms across his chest.
“Fine.” I grind out the word. “Hypothetically, if I decide I want to sleep with you – which I won’t – then you have the green light, but do me a favour and wait to hear the actual words, mmkay, grease monkey?”
He opens his mouth to say something, some smart comment, no doubt, but I cut him off with a glare.
“Number two, you get seven days – not a minute more, and when those seven days are up and I still haven’t fallen in love with you, you sign the papers – no questions asked, no more deals, got it?”
He nods, but I can see the pain in his eyes that he’s trying to hide.
“Loud and clear.”
I watch him, watching me and it takes everything I have in me not to close the gap between us and press myself against him.
I want to, so badly it almost hurts, but that wouldn’t help either of us.
Passion and lust isn’t going to cut it anymore. The entire foundation of our relationship has been swept away with the tide and it’s never coming back.
Sex isn’t going to fix that, no matter how tempting it is.
“Number three,” I say. “No more lies.”
“I haven’t—”
“Just, don’t…” I interrupt his plea.
He shakes his head in frustration but holds out his hand in my direction. “Deal.”
I shake off the feeling that I’m literally making a deal with the devil and take his hand in mine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Andy
“Where’s the bedroom?”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “And why would you need to know that?”
I drop my bag to the ground with a thud. “People generally sleep in beds, princess.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, this is gold, you’re unbelievable,” she mutters to herself.
I watch her with amusement – she’s so fucking beautiful when she smiles.
“Nah uh, jail bird, this is your zone right here.” She points to the couch in the living room.
A sly smirk crosses my face.
There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping on the couch – I’m not going to get my wife back from all the way out here.
“Sorry to burst your sassy little bubble there, red, but sleeping on the couch wasn’t one of your conditions.”
She hates the nickname ‘red’, and my use of it is no slip of the tongue.
I like her when she’s mad – I always have. Mad or turned on is the only way I seem to be able to get her to drop the wall she’s put up between us these days.
“You ever call me that again and you’ll be sleeping in the gutter out front,” she warns.
I hold up my hands in surrender, but I can’t seem to wipe the stupid grin off my face – this woman really does bring out the worst in me.
“Fine, but I’m not sleeping on that fucking couch.”
“Well please yourself, but you’re sure as shit not sleeping in my bed.”
She turns and struts from the room and disappears from sight.
“Oh but, princess?” I call after her. “It’s our bed. Remember?”
I hear her slam a door and I chuckle.
This might just be fun after all.
***
I rub the towel through my wet hair as I step out of the
bathroom and stroll across the hallway to Dylan’s bedroom.
Tonight, I start phase one of my plan to win my wife back.
I’m going to cook.
This apartment that I guess I technically own half of has a really fancy-ass kitchen in it, and I plan on showing my woman exactly what I can do.
I push the bedroom door open with my elbow and pick up my bag from the spot on the floor where I dumped it.
I empty the contents out across the bed and flick through the mess looking for something clean to put on.
“Jesus Christ, did you develop an allergy to clothing while you were locked up?”
I startle and look around for her, in all my naked glory.
I find her sitting in the chair by the window, her iPad in her lap.
She’s got her hands covering her eyes, but I can see her peeking out from between her fingers.
She’s not fooling me – she likes looking as much as I like showing.
I make a show of drying off the last of the water in my hair and then dropping the towel to the ground rather than using it to cover myself up.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she grumbles.
“And what’s that?” I chuckle as I grab a pair of boxer briefs.
“You’re trying to lure me back in with your penis powers.”
“My fucking what?”
“You’re trying to have me get back on the horse – or more to the point, get back on your horse.”
“I didn’t even know you were in here, princess, but I’m going to take that horse comment as a compliment.”
She mumbles something to herself that I don’t catch.
“Are you decent yet or what?” she demands after a few beats.
“As decent as the day you married me.”
She removes her hands from her face and throws her head back in frustration as she takes in my still nearly naked form.
“For the love of god, Andy, you can’t walk around here like that.”
“I’m having a lazy Sunday at home with my beautiful wife, I can wear whatever the fuck I like.”
I had intended to at least throw on some pants, but her obvious annoyance at my lack thereof has only made me more determined to stay exactly how I am.
Mr. January: A Second Chance Romance (Calendar Boys Book 1) Page 3