by Vesper Young
Not that she’d been committed to it, since she hadn’t shown up today.
I set my body next to hers on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Still asleep, her hand reached out. Her fingertips grazed my side, her body rocked closer.
It was just an act. We just had to fake it for six months and then I could forget the contradiction that was Mindy Killip.
***
I went home the next day for lunch.
There was no reason. Really. I’d had sporadic meetings all morning so, truly, it wasn’t interrupting my flow, or lack thereof. And maybe it was a good idea to let rumors circulate that the CEO and his wife loved spending lunch together every day.
I smirked as I headed up. If it was Claudia who spread the rumors, I’m sure the employees would think it was something a little less innocent than lunch.
I slipped the key inside and opened the door.
There was a kid.
I stared at the room. It looked like my living room. Same TV, couch, grey walls, and patterned carpet. It looked like my apartment. But there was a kid.
“Hi,” the kid said.
“Ryan, who are you talking to?” a voice called.
That voice did not belong to Mindy.
I followed the sound to the kitchen. My building was incredibly secure; no one came in without permission or having their name and face on an authorized list.
At the kitchen table, I found Mindy and another woman. She was tall, her body lean. In front of them were… half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
My sandwiches.
“Deacon, you’re home.” Mindy sounded surprised. “Is everything okay?”
I gave the other woman a charming smile. “Just wanted to see my wife for lunch.”
The woman did not appear charmed. “Oh, I thought Mindy mentioned you were too busy to have lunch.”
“Did she?” I raised a brow at her.
Mindy shrugged. “I thought I’d give you space at the office to work.” She put extra emphasis into the last word, annoyance dripping off every sound.
Not this again. “Who’s the kid?” I asked.
“The kid’s mine,” the woman answered.
“Deacon, this is Kara. She came over for lunch with her son, Ryan,” she explained.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Deacon.” I reached over the table to shake her hand.
“I’ll join you,” I informed Mindy. A quick scan of the room later and I spied the sandwich-making supplies still out.
I slid over to the counter and grabbed two slices of bread. “So, Kara, how do you know my wife?”
“We met in college,” Kara replied.
Not exactly the most verbose response. I put the two smothered pieces of bread together as her son, Ryan, wandered in.
“Can I please have another one?” he asked his mother.
“Sure thing, honey, I’ll make you one.”
“No, no, I’m already up,” I told her. I handed him mine and set about making another PB and J for myself.
“What do you say?” Kara prompted.
“Thank you,” the boy said. He promptly scampered back to the living room.
“Great kid,” I commented.
She gave me her first slightly warm smile since I’d walked in. “Thanks. He is.”
I wondered for a moment if my own mother had ever felt that fondly towards me. I wasn’t much older than her son when she’d died, so it was hard to remember.
I took my seat next to Mindy. She looked half-tempted to inch away, so I wrapped my arm around her.
“How’s the bar been?” Mindy asked Kara.
“Okay. Business is slower but tips are better in the summer.”
“Where do you work?” I asked.
“The Rattler. It’s a hole-in-the-wall downtown. What’ve you been up to?”
Mindy shrugged. “Not much, really.”
“It must be nice to have a break,” Kara said. “Or is it permanent?”
Mindy gave a tight smile. “We’ll see.”
“How’d you get into bartending?” I asked.
Kara went into a bit more of her backstory, with Mindy filling in gaps. When I tried to pivot to what Mindy had been doing at the same points in time, she pivoted the discussion right back to the bartending.
My phone chimed a while later. I’d given my driver a set time to pick me up so I could get back to work, so I began to excuse myself.
“Will you come by tomorrow?” I asked. I couldn’t stand this not knowing.
“Do you want me to?” she shot back.
Of course I did. And as a pretend husband with an audience, that was what I should simply say. But I recoiled from the vulnerability in that, however natural.
“I’ll take grape jelly,” I told her.
“Heathen. Strawberry is clearly superior.”
I smiled. It was like she’d come alive again. “Dealer’s choice.” I bent down and kissed her cheek.
***
True to our arrangement, Mindy came the next day to the office, brown bag and all. I informed her about the dinner with Dukas next week, which she accepted. I mentioned she’d need another outfit for the meeting. This was met with more resistance.
“How is it possible for someone who accumulated two hundred grand in consumer debt to hate having money spent on them so much?” I asked, amazed.
“I just don’t like it,” she grumbled.
“It doesn’t add up.”
“Why does it have to? In six months, the debt will be gone, and mark my words, I will never let that happen again.”
Because it just did. The data wasn’t making sense, and I needed it to.
“Look, Deacon, I did the fancy dress thing before. This is a business meeting, right? However it’s been gussied up, a spade’s a spade. I have plenty of business clothing.”
I shook my head. “Your current wardrobe won’t cut it.”
“Can we compromise? I’ll thrift something new.”
“That’s an oxymoron.”
“You know what I mean!” She was exasperated, as if I was the unreasonable one.
“Tell you what,” I told her. “Here’s a compromise. You can thrift an outfit for our date tomorrow, and I have Claudia arrange for something appropriate in your size to be dropped off. You won’t have to look at the price tags.”
“It’s too much, Deacon,” she exclaimed. “And wait. Date tomorrow?”
I nodded. “Did you forget our weekly stipulation?”
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I thought this was it.”
“Sorry, babe, but this sandwich doesn’t cut it. Tomorrow at seven we’ll grab dinner in public.”
She widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Seven? Isn’t that about five hours too early for you to leave?”
I rolled my eyes. “We’ve been through this. It’s work, and I have to do it.”
“And you’re sure the company won’t collapse if you leave early one night? Claudia won’t have a heart attack at being allowed to leave while the sun is still setting?”
“You’re being ridiculous. And Claudia leaves at five, anyway.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Five? How is it I worked eight to eight almost every day?”
I’d kept her working the same hours as me because Mindy was actually always an asset. Claudia hindered more than she helped beyond a certain point. Of course, she’d think that was just flattery, so I kept it to myself.
“It’s because you couldn’t bear to not be around me. Don’t worry, I was on to you.”
“I needed the hours, asshole,” she said with a blush.
“Ah, there’s your answer. Hours basking near your future husband.”
She gave me a serious look. “Your efficiency amazes me. The heating bill must be nill in the winter with all the hot air you produce.”
I laughed out loud, then turned back to our previous conversation point. “Do we a deal?”
She groaned. “Is that as far as you’re willing to budge?”
I nodded once. “Yup.”
“The fine. But if I see something really good for next week, that will count instead.”
I doubted that was possible, so I agreed. I reached into my pocket to grab my wallet and slipped her two crisp hundreds.
“What is that?” she asked.
“For shopping. I figure some places may not take debit.”
She didn’t make a move for the money. “I don’t need that.”
“Given that you don’t have any income currently, you do. Consider it a stipend for now. An expense.”
Her hands remained folded across her chest.
“What happens,” I asked, “if you find the perfect outfit for next Thursday, but you don’t have enough money to get it? I’ll wind up spending a lot more than two hundred on it and it may not even be to your taste. So you’ll then either wear something you don’t like or I’ll have to send Claudia to get another dress. Or use my personal shopper as a middle man, which in the hourly rate alone will dwarf this money.”
“Oh, enough.” She snatched the money off the desk. “I’ll give back the change,” she promised.
I sighed. There was a lot more give and take now that she wasn’t just my secretary. Some of it I enjoyed tremendously. And some of it was gonna drive me up the walls of this forty story building.
Mindy 24
Deacon arrived at the apartment promptly at six-thirty. He looked the same as when I’d met him at lunch, though slightly worse for wear. The meeting he’d had after our lunch must’ve worn him out.
To make matters worse, it was a particularly muggy day. The humidity was off the charts, and we’d fully settled into the July heat.
For my part, I’d changed into the outfit I’d thrifted. The blouse and skirt together were under fifteen, and they were some of my better picks if I said so myself. The skirt was a breezy A-line, while the shirt was fitted and made of a breathable fabric. The hem had been a bit undone, so I’d fixed that quickly and it was good as new.
The thrift stores in Deacon’s area had nicer stock than what I was used to, but for comparable prices. I had no doubt I’d find something acceptable for Thursday, and probably wouldn’t even hit fifty.
We arrived at the restaurant at seven. It was less fancy than last week’s. More approachable, like somewhere I might pick for myself. The only downside was it seemed the owners didn’t believe in air conditioning. Whether that made them old fashioned, cheap, or just too modern for my liking, it was sweltering.
Deacon, though he didn’t mention it, had to be suffering even after he took his jacket off. The restaurant had all the windows and french doors set open, but it did no good without a breeze. He had a chilled beer, I sipped my wine with ice. We ate quickly, not wanting to stay in the heat.
I slapped a fly away from my skin. My hand came away sticky. Yuck.
“I wish I could go swimming,” I said.
“Hmm?”
“It’s so humid. I’ll take a shower when we get back and it’ll be fine. I just wish I could dive into a big body of water and get all the day off.”
Deacon pressed a button to unlock the car and pulled open my door to let me in before going to his side.
“You know the complex has a pool, right?” he asked.
I turned towards him. “What? No way.”
“Yes, way,” he said with a chuckle. “Is it so surprising?”
“You know I’m still stunned every time I walk in and the elevator works, right?”
He shook his head. We were going as fast as we could in the city’s night traffic. Even with the convertible open, the air whooshing past us failed to grant relief from the heat.
Deacon pulled into the building’s parking.
“Do you want to go?” he asked. As if it was no big deal to go to the pool that was located inside the apartment building.
“It’s probably closed.” It was a little past nine.
“It isn’t.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
We headed into the building.
“We want to use the pool,” he informed the attendant at the door.
“Of course, Mr. Blake.”
He turned towards me, brows lifted as if to say, See?
We headed towards the elevator while the attendant called something in on his radio.
“I don’t have a bathing suit anyway. And before you mention it, I don’t want you to buy me one either.”
He cast me a shocked look. “Wouldn’t dream of it! Buying something to make your life easier? Not my Mindy.”
I faked a laugh through the way hearing him call me “my Mindy” made me feel. I pushed the button to call the elevator.
“I was just going to suggest you skinny dip.”
“Deacon!”
He grinned. “Or just go in your undergarments.”
“Deacon,” I groaned. “You sound like a teenager angling to hit first base.”
His throaty laugh definitely didn’t belong to a pubescent boy. “You raised an issue and rejected what would’ve been my initial solution as well as the one after. I’m simply trying to find a way to get you what we want.”
“We?”
“You, swimming. Me, having a bedmate who doesn’t sweat through the sheets. It would be so wasteful to ruin them, and I know you hate that.”
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, right. That’s why he suggested skinny dipping and looking at me like I was the dessert we’d skipped from dinner. Still, it’s not like I went around in lingerie. My current bra and panties covered about as much as your average bikini. And I was still sweating like a pig in the Georgia heat.
“Fine, you’re on.”
Deacon was quick to cover his surprise. When we entered the elevator, he selected the third floor instead of the twelfth.
We walked down the hall, passing a sparsely occupied exercise room. Or that wasn’t quite right; it was more like a private gym, more extensive than Deacons.
“Is this a gym for residents?” I asked.
“Yup.”
“Then why take up a room in your apartment for your own? You’d never even have to leave the building to work out here.”
He lifted his shoulders. “Just like having my space.”
“Oh. Wait, does it bother you that I use your gym?”
“Of course not.” He said it with such certainty I was taken aback. “You’re my wife. It’d be odd to have you work out elsewhere.”
Considering elsewhere was the same building, I doubted it, but I wasn’t going to fight him on it. A moment later we stopped in front of the door labeled POOL.
The smell of chlorine hit me the moment Deacon opened the door. The pool was large, though definitely not Olympic sized. There were beach chairs, changing rooms, towels. The end near us had the characteristic banisters and steps of the shallow end, while across the room was the deep side boasting ten feet.
And the room was empty. The lights were dimmed, highlighting the lack of use.
I glanced at the door and saw the hours posted. Mon-Fri, 8-7.
Had they actually just opened the pool because Deacon asked?
I eased over to a chair and set down my bag. I debated asking Deacon to turn around, but he spared me the request by facing the pool on his own.
The irrational part of me wondered if he didn’t want to see me change. I mean, I thought I looked good, if it a bit disheveled from the heat. What red-blooded guy wouldn’t want to see his date undress?
It was a stupid thought, especially since I wasn’t actually his date. Or his anything, except his prop of a wife.
He turned back a moment later, taking the opportunity to lean against the wall. His gaze raked over my body and I wanted to grab my clothes back.
I forced myself not to. It’s just like a bikini.
“Do you come to the pool often?” I asked, desperate to stop the heat swelling inside me from his stare.
His eyes flicked back up to my face. “Can’t say I’ve ever been here before.” His eyes went b
ack to my body. “Though I’ll say given how good the view is, I’ll have to remedy that.”
He definitely wasn’t talking about the chlorinated water. My heart moved to double time as he gave me a heated look. The top buttons of his shirt were open, his collar slightly askew. On another man, it would’ve looked disheveled. On Deacon it was… hot. The night was hitting me in a fantastically heady way. I was tempted to keep gazing.
I broke eye contact first, moving towards the pool. The lights underneath it showed the even, blue hue. I was anxious to submerge myself. With Deacon this close and me in my underwear, cooling off had become imperative.
“Gonna dip a toe in?” he prompted, gesturing towards the shallow end.
I gave the banister and baby steps a derisive snort. “No.”
“No?” he asked, his eyes once more raking over my body.
“Not a chance, sweetie. I’m hot, sweaty, and ready to dive right in.”
With that, I sprinted over to the deep end and cannonballed in.
Almost instantly, I was submerged. Adrenaline coursed through me, every bit as invigorating as the cold water against my hot flesh. I kicked my legs under myself to stay afloat. I gasped as I broke the surface, inhaling like it was my last breath.
Deacon was still leaning against the wall, but there was nothing casual in his expression. I could dive back under, pretend I hadn’t seen the desire in his gaze. Pretend there hadn’t been something growing between us for weeks.
I swam closer. The floor of the pool abruptly rose, and soon I was wading in the pool towards him. The water started at my shoulders, then dropped lower and lower until it as just at my waist.
“I should definitely come to the pool more often,” he said, his voice low and masculine.
My body heated once more at the desire in his expression. A quick glance down revealed my underwear had a key difference from a bikini. Namely, cheap cotton bras turned translucent when wet.
I could’ve sunk low in the pool, let the water hide my indecent state of dress.
Or I could enjoy him looking.
“Aren’t you gonna join me?” I asked.
“Wasn’t planning on it. Do you want me to?” he asked.
“I do. It’s no fun just having you watch me.”
“Do you dislike me watching you, Mindy?”