“Oh, honey, I do trust you. I just… it’ll be the first morning since I opened that I’m not the one here.”
Her eyes turn soft as understanding dawns on her. “I get it. It’s hard to let go a little when something is so important to you. I promise everything will be fine. Go enjoy the morning with your boyfriend and his parents. That’s way more important than giving Mr. Phizer his black coffee and bran muffins.”
We both laugh at that. I make those muffins just for him. He comes every Saturday to pick up the entire dozen. It’s the most boring thing that I make. I mean, they are delicious because I don’t bake anything that doesn’t have a little pizazz, but they are definitely not the strawberry cream cheese muffins or the triple chocolate chunk muffins that taste like sin.
“Okay, well, if you need anything, just call…”
“Go!” Leanne says, waving me away. “I swear I’ll be fine. Sprinkled With Sugar will run just fine without you for a morning.”
It feels weird to knock on Amos’ door… I have a key—another thing that was probably way too early in our relationship to do based on other peoples’ standards but feels perfect for us. Amos opens the door a moment later with a confused expression. Probably wondering why I didn’t just let myself in.
“Did you forget your key?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know if you would want your parents to know that we are basically living at each other’s houses and that we exchanged keys. That’s a big step…”
Amos pulls me into his arms and gives me the kiss to end all kisses. “Love, I want the world to know that we are at the almost living together stage.”
“I-” I have no idea what I was about to say when his mom comes to the door and slaps Amos’ arm and tells him to let me inside.
Trudy pulls me inside and gives me a tight squeeze. “So glad you could make it. I made pancakes.”
I give her a happy smile as Amos puts his hand on my lower back and leads me to the table. Alan is already there, eating his pancakes with a big glass of orange juice.
“Good morning, Alan,” I say with a smile.
The whole feeling in the room turns darker, and I have to wonder if he’s having a bad day, and I shouldn’t greet him in case seeing a new face will confuse him.
“Margo! I’m so happy to see you. Amos sure did marry a pretty one, don’t you think, Tru?”
I blink at Alan and open my mouth to respond, but Amos steps in before I can say anything. “I’m a lucky man, that’s for sure.”
I look back at Amos, and he’s got a troubled but determined look on his face. Obviously, Alan is having a bad day and is confused. I’m not sure why no one isn’t correcting him, but I don’t want to be the one to upset him, so I choose to not say anything either.
“Sit, sit! Let’s eat,” he says boisterously, having no idea the bomb of a mess he just dropped.
Except… some part of me is thrilled at the thought of being married to Amos. Did I say zero to a hundred? Make that zero to a thousand. I’m not upset about the idea of being married. I’m upset because Alan is such a sweetheart, and is this is evidence of how bad his dementia is getting. I feel horrible for Trudy and Amos… Alan too. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a loved one in this way, nor can I imagine the frustration of losing your memories.
We all sit down and eat breakfast, the mood somber.
I spend the whole day with them, going on a drive around the town so that Alan can see all the things. We stop into the bakery, and he gets one of my mini apple pies, which he declares to be better than any pie he’s ever had. Trudy seems to get offended because the burnt sugar pie recipe is something from her family, but then she winks at me, and I know she’s just teasing him. They have such a sweet relationship. They are constantly touching and teasing each other. They radiate love and affection. It’s exactly the kind of marriage I want one of these days.
We eat dinner at the diner, and Alan seems to regain himself at the familiar surroundings… except for one thing… he still thinks I’m married to Amos.
Because of Alan’s confusion, Amos talks me into staying the night. He doesn’t want to make things worse, and I can’t argue with his logic.
“I can’t believe you’re just letting him believe we are married!” I whisper-shout when we are safely behind closed doors and out of earshot of his parents. “Seriously, Amos. That’s… it’s… crazy!”
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, taking me in his arms. “I just… My dad…”
He looks and sounds so sad any anger I had melts away, and I hug him tight. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not a hardship being fake married. You’re right that it means I can stay here without your parents thinking I’m a hussy.”
He chuckles. “Hussy…”
I slap his chest. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m your wife. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
“Sorry, wifey. Forgive me?”
My heart skips a beat then beats out of control at hearing Amos call me his wife. Okay, I am totally screwed. This is fake, I remind myself. Fake. We aren’t married, heck we aren’t even engaged. We’re dating.
“How can I stay mad at you, hubby?” I ask, tilting my head back for a kiss.
6
Amos
With a growl, I lean down and kiss my pretend wife. Though thinking the word pretend feels wrong. I want to be her husband in truth, which is something that smacked me in the face when my dad mentioned it. The caveman inside me wanted nothing more than to beat his chest and drag Margo off to the nearest courthouse to make it real.
I fist her wild curls in my hand and deepen the kiss. Completely owning her lips, her tongue, all of her. She groans when I tighten my fist in her hair. My girl likes it a little rough, something that I’m more than happy to oblige.
“Amos,” she breathes between kisses, “please. I need you.”
I nip her chin then neck, kissing away the sting. “And you’ll have me soon.”
“Now,” she whimpers, threading her hands in my hair as I kiss down her neck to the top of her shirt. I pull the shirt over her head and toss it to the floor. I take a second to admire her pretty blue bra, knowing she picked it with me in mind makes my cock even harder. Then I strip her of it too. Her dusky pink nipples are diamond points begging for my mouth. It would be a sin to ignore them, so my mouth wraps around the first one, then the other. I flick them with my tongue, sucking and nibbling on them until Margo’s knees buckle from pleasure.
“Please,” she whimpers.
I slowly finish undressing her, then myself, loving the slow tease and the heated way she’s looking at me. I pick her up and toss her onto the bed, then descend on her pussy with one purpose and one purpose only—to make my girl come all over my mouth so I can drink her down.
“Oh, God!” she cries out when I suck her sensitive clit, letting the sharp edge of my teeth lightly rake over it just like she likes. Her back arches as moans, “I’m going to come. Don’t stop… don’t stop… Oh God…” And then she’s exploding for me. I lick up her release, teasing her to another orgasm. She collapses back to the bed for a moment, and I crawl up her body, kissing her soft skin as I go until I’m devouring her lips again.
I reach for a condom on the nightstand, but she grabs my hand and shakes her head. “I want to feel you… all of you,” she says with a naughty glint in her eye. “I want you to come deep inside me. I want to feel you pulsing and emptying into me.”
I give her a questioning look.
“I’m on the pill,” she clarifies. A little jolt of disappointment burns in my gut, which is ridiculous. It’s too soon to think babies. “And I’m clean.”
I kiss her fiercely. “I’m clean too.”
Unable to control myself at the thought of rutting into her bare, I thrust into her hard and fast. She lets out a scream, that I dampen with another kiss, lest my parents hear her. I’m harder than ever before. Fucking her like a madman as she screams into the pillow, biting down to keep her screams muffled.
She says something that sounds sort of like “I’m gonna come,” but it’s muffled.
Her nails scratch down my chest as her pussy clenches around my cock, choking the life out of it as she comes. Her pussy gripping me so tight, pulls me right over the edge with her. I bury myself deep and let go, filling her with rope after sticky rope of my release.
I collapse next to her, pulling her into my arms and kissing her slow and sweet. I run my hands over her body, unable to stop touching her. I dip my fingers between her wet, and swollen pussy lips where my come is slowly dripping from her tight channel and rub my come up and over her clit. I slowly stroke her clit in small circles until her hips are moving into my touch, and she’s moaning lowly. Before she can tip over into an orgasm, I pull her on top of me and set her on my cock.
She moans, rubbing herself along the underside of my cock. Seeing the way her pussy lips are spread around me, as she rubs our releases all over me is so lude, I could come just from the sight of my cock peeking out as she rubs along me. Unable to take another minute, I grip her hips and slowly guide her onto me. She lowers herself until my cock is buried to the hilt. She throws her head back, moaning.
“God, you’re so deep this way. Hurts so good,” Margo groans as she starts moving.
Slowly she rises and falls on my cock, her hips dancing up and down as she finds her perfect rhythm, one that will send us both over the edge to oblivion. I take one of her nipples in my mouth, teasing it with my tongue. The other gets the same adoring treatment. She lowers her mouth to mine, and we kiss in slow, languid caresses of our tongues. Her hips never quit their perfect dance. This isn’t the passionate fucking from last time. This is something more. Something that says all the words neither of us has been brave enough to say yet, but I’m sure both of us feel.
I slip my fingers between us, finding her clit and gently rubbing. She raises up, throwing her head back as she moves a bit faster. Rolling her hips and falling on my cock harder. It doesn’t take long for her to come on a scream that she barely muffles with her hand. Her inhibitions are completely gone leaving nothing but the wanton beauty riding me to my own release. She buries me deep inside the hot clench of her pussy and squeezes down as her orgasm rips through her body. My balls draw up, and then I’m coming with her, once again flooding her pussy with my come until its overflowing.
Margo collapses onto my chest, breathing heavily. “We’re really, really good at that. Not bad for a fake relationship,” she mumbles sleepily.
My mood instantly sours. I hate the sound of us being fake in any way. I hope like hell she understands that letting my dad think we are married is the only fake thing in our relationship. We are very much real, and we are very much moving towards something more permanent.
I’m awake late into the night, my thoughts troubled. Eventually, I fall asleep wrapped around Margo as she sleeps soundly. It seems like I’ve barely closed my eyes when her alarm goes off. She quietly gets up in hopes of not waking me up. I watch as she silently moves about the room, getting dressed for the day. When she’s done, I stand from the bed and wrap her up in my arms, holding her tight.
Margo clings to me in a way that tells me something is wrong, but now isn’t the time to discuss things with her. We don’t have time to have that kind of conversation. I walk her to the door and kiss her goodbye. I can’t stop the worry that bubbles up, wondering if I somehow messed things up with her last night. This morning she welcomed my embrace easily enough, but something was off. Almost like she was closed off to me… pulling away emotionally.
I shake my head. Surely, I’m making more of this than there is. She’s probably just tired. Once again, I kept her up later than her usual bedtime making love to her for hours. There’s no going back to sleep after seeing off to work, so I decide to go for a run to clear my head.
I’m fresh out of the shower and drinking my first cup of coffee of the morning when my parents come down for breakfast. I whip up some frittatas and bacon the whole time I’m cooking, wondering if my dad will be himself today or if another piece of his mind will be gone.
“This is wonderful, son,” my dad says, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Your talents really are wasted at that diner. Daisy says you haven’t changed the menu at all since you’ve taken over. You’re a trained chef… you should be cooking things like this.”
I shrug, “I love working at the diner. I love giving folks what they want.”
Dad shakes his head. “They don’t know if they want your fancy breakfasts if you don’t try. You should add some specials and see how they do. I think you’ll be surprised.”
“Maybe,” I say to appease him, though I have no intentions of changing his menu. I get my love of cooking from him, and changing the menu feels like another small loss of his memory.
“I have something for you,” my dad says, pulling a small wooden box from under the table.
I know exactly what’s in that box, and my heart starts to pound. He hands over the box that holds my great-great-grandmother’s wedding ring. My parents were already married when my grandmother passed on, and the ring was left to my father. He was supposed to keep it until it was time for me to get married. Why is he giving it to me now?
“I know it’s not the way it’s traditionally done, but it’s time. I want you to have this before my mind is completely stolen away from me. I’d love to see that ring used before it happens, but seeing it in your hands makes me happy enough.
Maybe it’s about time for you to use it already on that pretty little baker of yours. It would be nice to see my only son married off and happy before…” he sighs sadly.
“It’s okay, dad. Thank you for this,” I say, fisting the box tight in my hand, the pointed corners biting into my palm. I should be thankful that my dad is one hundred percent himself today, but that means there’s no need for Margo to be my fake wife.
Why does that upset me so badly?
7
Margo
“Margo!” Lani says as she throws her arms around me. “It feels like it’s been ages!”
I laugh. “It’s been five days.”
She shakes her head. “Like I said, ages.”
Prue rolls her eyes. “She’s so dramatic now that she’s all knocked up.”
We all laugh at that because she’s not wrong.
Ana is the next to hug me. “Hey hon, is everything okay? You look troubled.”
Leave it to Ana to see something behind my smiles. She’s way to perceptive for her own good. Definitely works against all of us when we try to hide something.
“I’m okay… it’s just…” I hesitate to say anything because the whole fake marriage thing seems not only ridiculous, but I want it to be real, and that right there is ridiculous.
“Spit it out already,” Prue says with a roll of her eyes. She’s never one to beat around the bush and hates when others do too.
“You all know that Amos’ dad has Alzheimer’s, right?” They all nod. “Well, yesterday was an off day, and he confused me for Amos’ wife. I went to correct him, but Amos stepped in and agreed with him. Can you believe it?!
“So now I’m fake married to Amos, who I’ve been dating officially for only two weeks. It’s… ridiculous.”
“And yet you seem sad that it’s fake,” Ana says.
Once again, my friend is way too perceptive. I distract everyone from the conversation by handing out everyone’s favorite treats. We move to the small table I have set up for the random customers that like to eat here instead of taking their desserts and leaving.
“I’ve known Amos for a long time,” Ana starts. “He’s not one to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
I shake my head, “Except he would do anything for his father. Including lying to protect him from feeling like he’s crazy.”
“Except that…” she agrees. “Even so, I don’t think that’s a lie he would let stand if he wasn’t already thinking about the future of your relationship and where he wants it
to go.”
“I love weddings,” Lani adds around a big bite of muffin. “They are my favorite. Watching two people vow themselves to each other…”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “What part of fake did you not understand? This isn’t real, Lani. Amos didn’t propose. This whole relationship is fake.”
Ana purses her lips. “Not the whole relationship, just the married part. Amos is completely smitten with you—probably even in love with you.”
My eyes go wide at that. No way is he in love with me after two weeks. Guys don’t fall that quick, not like women. I mean, I know I’m in love with the big gruff diner owner who treats me like a queen, but he’s not there. Yes, he likes me a lot… love? No way.
“Ana is right,” Prue adds. “That man has been gone for you for months.”
After a lot of back and forth where my friends almost have me convinced that Amos is in love with me even though he hasn’t said anything of the sort yet, I’m more confused than ever when they leave.
Thankfully Leanne comes in shortly after, and I’m able to leave her in charge while I escape to my house. I need time to myself. Time to think and to talk myself out of the craziness my friends tried to pollute my mind with.
They’re wrong. This whole thing is fake. Yes, we exchanged keys and are dating seriously, but this marriage is fake, and thinking that he wants it to be real is ridiculous. It’s off the rails levels of crazy. I take a hot shower and have myself firmly back on solid ground by the time I’m done getting ready for the evening.
My phone dings with a text from Amos asking me when I’ll be home. My heart skips a beat or three at the question. I know he’s not talking about my house. He wants to know when I will be home to his.
Home.
When did Amos’ house become home? Jesus, I’m in deeper than I ever thought. I text him that I’ll be there soon. I can’t hide out forever.
Earning Her Love (Sweet Somethings Book 2) Page 4