“Noted.” Jules hadn’t realized how noisy it was until they reached the ground floor. Though her free arm was immediately seized, she wasn’t ready to leave Dexter. She felt safe with him, holding his hand, sharing private little jokes.
“I’m so sorry about earlier,” Roxy said, tugging her away. “I could just die.”
“It’s fine.” Jules shot a quick glance at Dexter. “I should learn to be quieter. But your brother just, ya know, drives me insane, and I can’t bear—”
“Stop.” Roxy put up a hand. “I don’t want to hear the details. Ever. Let’s talk about something else. What concerts have you seen lately? Oh! Did you see the new Emma Watson movie?”
Jules winked at Dexter, who was giving her the thumbs-up while being dragged away by a man she didn’t recognize. She wanted to follow him, but knew she couldn’t.
“Love your dress,” Roxy said. “I could never pull off something like that.”
They chatted casually as they made a loop around the perimeter of the party. Occasionally, Roxy would introduce Jules to someone, and when the questions started, Jules did the smile thing. If that didn’t work, she casually slipped in something about what an animal Dexter was in the sack. That always derailed the conversation enough for her to escape.
“Don’t hate me,” Roxy said when they stopped behind a row of chairs, “but for a while today, I wondered if you guys were faking.”
Jules’s stomach turned to ice. Even when she tried the smile thing, so far, it hadn’t worked on Roxy. Was their secret about to be discovered? Had Roxy already told people? Told Quent? Would she lose her house?
“W-why would we do that?”
“You know how my brothers are always betting and daring each other. I get in on it too, sometimes, but they get way out of control.” She shrugged. “I thought maybe he paid you to pretend to be his wife.”
“Just so he’d win a bet?”
“I told you, they’re crazy.”
For a moment, Jules felt like coming clean about the whole thing. If anyone in the Elliott family would understand, it would be Roxy. They’d known each other for years, and when she and Vince had stopped hanging out as a couple, Jules had spent a lot of her time with Roxy. They were friends, maybe closer friends than Jules had realized.
But she couldn’t. Everyone knew it was impossible for Roxy to keep a secret. Jules had too much riding on this. Plus, she’d promised Dexter. She might be in the middle of the biggest lie of her life, but she would not break his confidence.
And of course, there was the money. Jules hated how that was an important factor. But there it was.
“Believe me, Rox,” Jules said, linking their arms together. “We’re not married so Dexter’d win a bet. Your brother has faults; I keep stumbling upon new ones, but eloping in Vegas is not one of them.”
Roxy hugged her, nearly pulling Jules off her feet. “I’m so happy about that,” she said, sounding choked up.
“Me, too.”
It was strange—for the first time, that part didn’t feel like a lie.
“Listen.” Roxy’s voice was low as she glanced sideways across the patio. “I want to hear more non-gross details later, but that hot intern from Dad’s office just got here.” She plastered a smile on her face. “Time to go spill a drink on him and see if he bites.”
Jules laughed. “Good luck!”
She wasn’t alone for long. First Luke and Natalie joined her. But they kept feeding each other little bites of a broken Hershey’s bar, making Jules want to puke at the cuteness. So she fed them a detailed story about how she’d done a pole dance for Dexter and they’d torn the pole off the ceiling.
Leaving the couple with that visual, she meandered to the other side of the patio, smiling like a deranged maniac whenever anyone made eye contact. While cornered by one of Eileen’s country club friends, someone scooped up Jules’s hand.
“Sorry,” Dexter said, “I need my darling Shmoopy.”
“That’s Shoopy,” Jules corrected, glancing wistfully at a tray of wine flutes passing by. No, she wasn’t about to start with the alcohol to calm her nerves. Hadn’t she learned her lesson?
“What have you been telling people?” Dexter asked as soon as they were behind the rosebushes.
“Can you be more specific?”
“Things about me…what we do.”
“Oh. That.” She bit her lip. “I was doing what you said, making our story embarrassing to an audience.”
He crossed his arms. “By telling my mother you threw yourself at me.”
“It makes a more interesting story. Everyone’s tired of hearing how you’re a big bad lady-killer. I thought you’d be grateful.”
“I’m not. No wife of mine should be throwing herself at anyone.”
“Not even her husband?”
He frowned and pursed his lips, looking deep in thought. “I don’t like it. You doing a pole dance while covered in strategically placed Hershey’s Kisses?”
“Hey, I did not add that detail.” She toyed with her bracelets. “But I like it. And I was trying to be inappropriately personal.”
“Well, stop,” he growled, but then dipped his chin and laughed. When he nudged her shoulder and winked, Jules laughed, too, trying so hard to not feel the desire to press herself against him until his arms wrapped around her. “Anything I should know?” she asked.
“No.” He looked down at the grass. “Oh, you do have a thing for waking me up in that special way every morning.”
“Every?” Jules blushed at the idea, then tried not to imagine seeing Dexter’s lazy, sleepy smile, his rumpled bed head, hearing him laugh with her and holding her at the beginning of every new day.
These were the exact kinds of thoughts that got her in trouble three years ago.
“Then you have a thing for scented bubble baths and Enya.”
He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw. “Fine.”
Jules smiled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more things to tell Roxy.”
…
Dexter didn’t like the idea of any further details getting to Roxy. Not only was his sister a gossip, but admittedly Jules wasn’t the best liar in the world.
He watched her walk away, her long turquoise dress brushing the tips of the grass. Besides the telltale flush on her neck, she was doing pretty well with the make-believe.
But how twisted was that? Despite the kinky made-up stories, Jules was a nice girl. She was sweet and had a good heart. And sometimes when he’d see her on the other side of the patio, it took everything in him not to bolt from the conversation he’d been having, just so he could hear her voice, her laugh, put an arm around her because that’s what husbands did. And because being with her made him feel…good.
He had no business training her to become a comfortable liar.
By the time Danny gave the best man’s toast, Dexter was ready for the night to be over. When the first of the guests started to leave, he figured it was safe to head out, and was about to go upstairs when he saw Jules with Vince and Maddie. Soon enough, Luke, Roxy, and his parents joined her. Cornered again.
Being a good fake husband, Dexter headed straight over, ready to pull his severely blushing bride away. “Hey. What’s the hot topic?”
“Jules was telling us about your honeymoon.”
She glanced at him and bit her lip, failing to hide the fact that she looked remorseful. “They asked, sweetie.”
Dexter didn’t need details. Who knew what she’d cooked up?
“Time to say good night, honey,” he said, and took her elbow.
“Speaking of honeymoons…” Roxy said, nudging Maddie until they both laughed.
Dude, she could be such a pain. Since they were obviously being scrutinized, he put an arm around Jules. It felt awkward, but who cared? He gave Vince a slap on the back, then waited for Jules to say good-bye so they could go.
Before they were three steps away, he heard Roxy say sotto voce, “They never kiss in public. Is that odd
for newlyweds?”
Hot and sharp tingles swept up the back of Dexter’s neck. After all they’d gone through today, he wasn’t about to let his chatty sister blow their cover. So he did what any man would do.
Without warning, he stopped walking, took Jules around the waist, and pulled her in. He heard a gasp of surprise right before he planted a kiss squarely on her mouth. Luckily, the surprise didn’t cause her to flinch for more than a second—that would’ve given everything away with the family watching.
He kept his mouth over hers, a firm hold of her waist, and felt the instant Jules began her own playacting. She slid her hands inside his suit coat, dug her nails into his back, making him wince, though not in pain.
Kissing her felt…different…awesome. Because it was more than kissing. Not only was his mouth into it, but his brain, and his heart was hammering against his rib cage, behind his ears, making his muscles weak, then flex with strength.
Enjoying it way more that he should’ve been, he shut his eyes tighter, just going with it, his head full of a sweet buzzing sound. Just as he fisted the back of her dress, Jules’s hands slid down and grabbed his ass.
Actually grabbed it and squeezed.
This shook Dexter wildly awake enough to break their kiss and sway back half a step.
“Get a room!” Roxy called.
But he barely heard as he looked down into Jules’s bright eyes. She was breathing as hard as he was while wearing a huge, gratified grin.
“That’s the idea,” Dexter called over his shoulder in a purposefully impatient voice, never taking his eyes off Jules. He wasn’t sure what more he was supposed to say at a moment like this, so he grabbed her hand and dragged her into the house, saying good-night to people as he passed, heading toward the stairs.
“What was that?” he asked her out of the corner of his mouth. “Good to see you, Michael, ’night.”
“The grand finale,” Jules replied. “I knew what you were doing—I heard what Roxy said.”
Dexter exhaled, wishing his pulse would slow down. An adrenaline rush, that was all—not the fact that that might’ve been the hottest kiss of his life. And it was nothing but an act.
For all he knew, he’d never feel that rush again, that teetering of the earth when she kissed him back, when he felt her breath on his cheek, imagined holding her in his arms for hours. Maybe forever.
“I think you succeeded,” he said. “Though a little warning would’ve been appreciated. My mother was there.”
“Like the warning you gave me before you kissed me in the middle of a party? And I know Eileen was there, that’s why I did the butt thing. They need to assume we can’t keep our hands off each other.”
Dexter shut his eyes momentarily, feeling her warm palm against his as they climbed the stairs. “Mission accomplished,” he muttered.
He steered her to their bedroom, waited until they were both inside, then locked the door, blowing out a long breath while loosening his tie.
“I consider the evening a bona fide success,” Jules said, pulling off her bracelets in front of the mirror. “We talked to people, added backstory, and made out in public. No way there’s doubt now.”
Made out. With Jules. Just thinking it made Dexter’s chest burn, his stomach spin like he was nervous. What the hell was the matter with him?
The answer was logically simple. It was no longer just physical. Jules was in his head, and he had no idea what to do about that.
He sat on the foot of the bed and tried to breathe slower, work out the kinks in his neck. “No—yes, right,” he said. “I think we have that covered.”
“And it wasn’t so bad. Kind of fun.”
He yanked at his collar. Why the hell is it so damn hot in this bedroom?
“Wait.” Jules turned around, her hands at the back of her neck to unclasp a necklace. “Are you upset?”
“About…?”
“Me squeezing your cheeks?”
He focused on the floor while gritting his teeth. “Why would I be upset about that?”
“It’s fine,” Jules said. “You can grab my ass next time—if there’s need.”
“There won’t be,” he growled, walking to the other side of the room to his suitcase. “I have no intention of grabbing your…anything.”
“Nice,” Jules said, sarcasm coloring her voice. “What’s wrong with you?”
What was wrong was that he needed her to stop talking, stop giving him ideas.
He removed his jacket so he wouldn’t die of heatstroke. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m tired.”
“Same here.” It was quiet as they both turned their attentions to that rectangular-shaped, duvet-covered elephant in the room.
The last thing Dexter needed at the moment was to imagine sharing a bed with Jules… Her elbow propped on a pillow, palm cradling her head as she talked to him about astrology, how she dreamed of making it as a painter—feared it, too—how they somehow shared the same worries about the future.
That nervous whirring in his stomach switched to high speed. Only it wasn’t a bad feeling.
“I’m going to change,” she said, “but I didn’t bring pj’s. I don’t wear them unless it’s cold.” She glanced at his dresser. “Do you have something I can borrow?”
Scratch that. The very last thing Dexter needed was to think about Jules sleeping sans pajamas. So he pulled the second drawer open, grabbed the first shirt he touched, and tossed it to her without looking.
“Perfect. It’s long enough that I won’t need anything else.”
“Good, good.” He stared at the wall. “Do you want to”—he paused and motioned to the bathroom—“first?”
“Thanks.” But she didn’t go in right away. Instead, she sat on the bed and unlaced her sandals. It took forever because of the long laces that wrapped around her ankles.
Dexter turned a one-eighty to look out the window, watching the parade of headlights disappear down the hill. A few minutes later, the bathroom door shut. He exhaled and unclenched his fists, unclenched everything.
Get a freaking grip.
He quickly took off the rest of his suit, hung it in the closet, then rummaged through a different dresser drawer until he found pajama bottoms. After a quick thought, he pulled out a T-shirt, too. His mother really should get rid of all the clothes he’d left here since he’d moved away after graduation.
Just as he’d tied the drawstring, the bathroom door opened and Jules came out wearing nothing but a hockey jersey—not the Philadelphia Flyers that he’d bought at a game, but the jersey with his name on the back, the one he’d worn when he’d played left wing on Hershey High’s varsity team.
It was so big on her that it gaped at the neck and hit her midthigh.
“You were pretty big in high school.” She tugged at the neck hole.
And the tension is back. “We wore pads.”
Dexter grabbed his shaving kit and practically dived into the bathroom. He brushed and flossed and felt like going as far as taking a cold shower. Maybe that would get rid of the nervousness in his stomach that still hadn’t gone away. How was he supposed to sleep tonight?
“Hey.” Jules tapped the door. “Have you thought about the sleeping arrangements?”
That was all he’d been doing for the last five minutes. “Hadn’t given it a single thought. Why?” he said, adding the appropriate amount of nonchalant swagger to his voice. When she didn’t reply, he smiled, knowing a girl like Jules would demand a guy like Dexter sleep on the floor or out on the roof, even if it was raining.
“Well, I was just wondering…do you want the right or left side of the bed?”
His cocky smile dropped. Now what was he supposed to do?
Nothing, he thought, looking at himself in the mirror. Not a damn thing. This is Jules, not a regular woman. Sweet Jules who loves her grandmother. Kindhearted, infectious, charming-as-hell Jules. The woman I can’t get out of my head.
After a steeling breath, he opened the door. “The right side,�
�� he said, tossing his shaving kit on top of his bag.
“Cool! I’m a lefty.”
He lifted what he hoped was a brotherly-type smile. “And they say we’re not compatible.”
“What do they know?” Her hair was piled on top of her head, her face clean of the little makeup she’d worn, and yet her fair skin had an apple-cheeked glow.
“I’m keeping our door locked,” he said. “Not that I expect anyone to burst in, but we might as well play it safe.”
“Fine by me,” she said, pulling back the covers on the left side of the bed.
Crap. He was really getting in there with her. Not that it was a big deal—it was just Jules. The mermaid girl with the loud voice and bare feet. No big deal at all.
Was he lying to himself now?
“Get the light,” Jules added, punching her pillow. “Oh, unless first you want to…”
When she didn’t go on, Dexter felt a band pull tight in his chest.
Unless I want to do what? What??
“I didn’t ask,” she continued. “Do you like to read in bed?”
“No. I’m good.” He turned off the light. “I drift off fast.” Clouds covered the moon and stars, allowing very little light in through the window. Now he just stared down at the sheets. Should he warn her that he was about to climb in? No, that was stupid. She was obviously fine with it, and he was, too. Totally, totally chill.
He got in bed and eased onto the pillow, sensing Jules’s body right beside him…wearing nothing but a worn and frayed jersey from his glory days…and maybe nothing else. He rolled onto his side and scooted to the edge. Even though Jules was the size of a jockey, it was still only a double bed, and he felt every time she moved, breathed.
“Tonight was fun.” Her whisper filled the silence.
“Yeah?”
“I miss hanging out with your family. Rox and Vince, especially.”
“They miss you, too,” he said, staring at his ancient 76ers poster on the wall.
“I just wish…”
When she didn’t finish, he rolled onto his back, craning his head to look at her. “What do you wish?” His eyes traced her silhouette. She was on her back, too, chin lifted, eyes open, blinking slowly. The bed rocked when she rolled to her side and faced him.
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