I turned back to Trina. “I’ve got lots of space.”
“Wait a minute,” Trina started to back track. “Why do I have to move in with him?”
“Because he’s your fake husband,” Sinclair said. “Married people, even fake married ones, live together.”
“Why can’t he move in with me?”
“First, you have a tiny, one-bedroom place and second, let’s face it, you don’t think I’m worthy of your place,” I said. “But if you want me in your bed, I’ll do it. I’ll sacrifice for the cause.”
“Wait, we don’t have to share a bed, do we?”
I tried not to be offended that she found the idea of sleeping with me so distasteful.
“I’ll wear pajamas,” I teased. “I don’t normally, but if it will make it easier for you to keep your hands off me—”
“Shut up, Ryder,” Trina snapped. “I’m not sharing a bed.”
“I had a separate bed when I was fake married to Wyatt,” Sinclair said.
“Except you didn’t sleep in it,” Wyatt reminded her.
“I did some,” she replied.
“Not if I could help it.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Geez, you two need to go home.” I rolled my eyes and then looked at Trina, “I have a second bedroom. What’s it going to be? Me in your bed, or you in your own bed at my place?” I knew what her answer would be, even as I wished she said her choice would be me in her bed.
Trina groaned and shook her head. “Fine. Your place.”
She didn’t sound happy about this, but that was all right. With her in my home, secluded on a couple of acres of property, I had the perfect setting to woo my fake wife into giving me a chance.
4
Trina
There’s something seriously wrong with me, I thought as I put a box filled with books and a few other personal doo-dads into the trunk of my car.
Sinclair tossed my suitcase in beside it. “Don’t groan, Trina. After all, how hard could being fake married be?”
Ugh. I hated how she kept throwing that back at me. The truth was, it was going to be excruciatingly hard. Thirty days with Ryder? The man who publicly embarrassed me? He lived to push my buttons. It was going to be the hardest month of my life. But I wasn’t going to admit to that.
“I’m not sure what the big deal is. I’m simply going to hang out at Ryder’s place for a month. When it’s done, I’ll get my book back.” I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, even though I was sure I had a brain tumor or something for agreeing to this nutty scheme. I tried to focus on what I’d get when it was done; the book of humiliation.
“Everyone is going to be so excited to hear you and Ryder are married. Personally, I think the town thought he’d be single forever.”
“Wait, what?” I reached my hand out to stop her from going back into my place.
“This is a small town. People will know you’re married.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” I stammered. “You said pretend to be married and then I’d get the book.”
Sinclair’s eyes narrowed. “You act like Ryder is a leper.”
To my mind he was, but I couldn’t tell her that. Sinclair and Ryder were close. Closer than most siblings were. Maybe it was because they were twins. Not that I understood these things. I was an only child. I barely had parents, much less siblings.
“He and I are oil and water, you know that. This is just a bet. I know you’re all lovey dovey now with Wyatt, and want to spread all the love like glitter, but Ryder and I won’t end up like you two. He’s the—” I stopped from saying that he was the last person I’d ever end up with.
“He’s what?” She quirked a brow at me. “Funny? Kind? Sweet? Easy-going?”
“Not my type.”
Sinclair snorted. “No man is your type, Trina.” She headed back to my apartment.
“What does that mean?” I tried not to be hurt by her comment.
“It means your requirements for men—heck, for your friends—are so high that almost no one can meet them.”
“I’m not that bad.” Was I? Sure, I didn’t suffer fools, but I wasn’t so bad that I didn’t have friends.
Sinclair’s eyes softened as she looked at me. “You’re pretty bad. Don’t get me wrong. I think you’re a terrific friend. You’re loyal and steadfast. You’ll scratch out the eyes of anyone who goes against someone you care about. But there are plenty of people who are worthy of your love and friendship that you dismiss.”
“Are we talking about Ryder?”
“Among others. Look, I know Ryder has a relaxed way of going through life. But he sticks when it counts.”
“He loves you. You’re his sister, so of course he’s going to stand by you come hell or high water,” I pointed out. “He doesn’t stick with his lady friends. This town is littered with hearts that he’s broken.”
She quirked a brow at me. “Is that what you’re worried about? That you’ll become a notch on his bedpost?”
“No.” I blurted it out a little too fast.
“Ryder isn’t a heartbreaker. He’s a young man who like all other young men, and most young women, enjoys sex. Just because he hasn’t found a woman to commit to doesn’t mean he’s against relationships.”
“You’re not saying I’m the right woman.” Now I knew she was just toying with me.
“I’m saying that it’s unfair to judge a single man for being single. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find out there’s more to him.”
Taking a breath, I said, “That won’t happen. He’s not my type and I’m not his.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“I am.”
She gave me a disappointed stare. “Sometimes I think a good romp with my brother could help you lighten up. You both surely have the sexual tension.”
“We do not!” Perhaps there was something in the water that was making me crazy to take this deal, and causing Sinclair to say ridiculous things.
She laughed and slung her arm around me. “Come on, Mrs. Fake Ryder Simms, let’s get you to your new home.”
I glared at her, but surrendered. I climbed into my car while Sinclair got into hers and we drove out to Ryder’s place. As we left the city center, I was hit with the realization that my day-to-day life was going to change. Maybe not at work, but my off-work routine would. I wouldn’t be able to order take out and delivery from the Chinese restaurant. I couldn’t walk downtown to pick up forgotten necessities, although I rarely ever forgot anything. My morning walk around the town square would be out.
Ryder’s house was outside the hustle and bustle of our small town. He wasn’t quite out in the sticks like the farmers, but he was away from town on several acres. Out there, it would be quiet and lonely. Well, except for Ryder, but he wasn’t my idea of good company.
I groaned and slapped my hand on my steering wheel. Why had I agreed to this stupid bet? Pride, of course. What was that saying? Pride goeth before the fall? I was falling for sure for accepting this bet. I had to focus on what I’d get when this was all said and done; my book.
The book was the one other time in my life where my rational self took a vacation. I wasn’t one for sentiment or girlie, flowery things, but that book suggested that at one moment in time, I was. I’d created it when Sinclair found out she was pregnant. She didn’t tell me that Wyatt was the father, but she did share that her baby-daddy was gone, leaving her alone. She was so afraid and worried. While I’d never been pregnant and alone, I knew how scary life could be when it felt out of control. I wanted to cheer her up and help her realize that she wasn’t alone. So, I put together a book with drawings of silly things like fairies and unicorns, and pages of poems that, at the time, I thought were worthy of Emily Dickenson, but upon reflection years later made me cringe.
In my defense, the book worked. Sinclair loved it. She’d even named her daughter after one of the fairies I’d made in the book, Alyssa. She told me it helped her to feel loved and supported, so
I’d felt it had been worth being vulnerable and letting out my inner softy. That was, until Ryder got a hold of the book. God, even now, my cheeks flamed with embarrassment and anger over that.
I could remember the humiliation like it happened yesterday even though it was nearly ten years ago. Sinclair was home from college, and I dragged her to the Harvest Festival as another way to try and cheer her up. At that time, the thought of seeing her brother Ryder, didn’t bother me. The truth of the matter was that I’d lusted for him in the way teenage girls did since we were in middle school. Not that anything ever came of it. After all, he was my best friend’s brother. While the girl code dictated that I couldn’t covet my friend’s brother, as far as I was concerned, it didn’t include not hating him if the situation called for it. What Ryder did to me absolutely called for my dislike of him.
I’d been able to convince Sinclair to go to the festival by telling her we should support Ryder’s band who’d be playing there. It would be their first significant gig, and he needed all the support he could get.
He stepped out on stage in his faded jeans, his brown hair a little longer than it was today, his body a little leaner, but still a hottie. All the girls in town screamed in adoration of him as he smiled and began strumming his guitar. He started to sing, and my entire world collapsed.
He played a jaunty tune that sounded like a parody or something meant to be a joke. As he sang, the words were familiar, and I realized they were my words from a poem that I’d put in Sinclair’s book.
People in the crowd laughed as he goofed around singing the silly tune. But inside, I died. The words hadn’t been written to be funny. Ryder, ever the prankster, who never considered the feelings of others, had turned me into the joke of the town.
I looked around the crowd, all of whom were laughing. He never said where he’d gotten his lyrics, but it didn’t matter. All that laughter felt like it was directed at me.
Sinclair’s gaze shot to mine, clearly recognizing the words. Unable to deal with it, I ran off and vowed to hate Ryder Simms for the rest of my days. Ten years later, I haven’t recanted or relented that vow.
I pushed all of that away as I pulled in front of Ryder’s house. I sat for a minute in the car, wondering if maybe I should just concede that fake marriages could be hard and then I wouldn’t have to go through with this. But then I remembered that losing meant I’d have to give a speech. That wasn’t going to happen.
God, I was an idiot. Deciding I could avoid him because I worked days and he worked a lot of nights, and I could hide away in the guest bedroom as much as possible to avoid him, I shored up my courage.
I got out of the car and looked at the rundown old farmhouse in the middle of Nebraska farmland. My apartment was modern and convenient. Now I was moving back in time to a ramshackle house that was miles from any amenities.
Sinclair pulled up behind me as Ryder appeared on the porch with his signature no-care-in-the-world smile.
“Welcome home, wife,” he said.
“Fake wife to you,” I quipped.
He chuckled. Clearly, he still enjoyed tormenting me. “Can I help you with your things?” He took my box while I grabbed my suitcase.
I followed him through the house, down the hall with squeaky floor boards.
“Here’s your room,” he said, entering the small space and putting the box down on the bed. The room was clean and tidy, but tired looking. The bed was covered in quilts that were probably sewn by his great-grandmother.
“I think you’ll be comfortable there,” Ryder said.
Unable to conjure up my manners, I said, “Why do you think I’ll be comfortable here? I’m not a fan of Little House on the Prairie décor.” God, I was a bitch.
But Ryder, being Ryder, laughed. “That’s too bad.” He reached out, picking up a lock of my hair and rubbing it between his fingers. The gesture was familiar and intimate, shocking me.
“You’d look good in braids,” he said with his easy smile.
I wanted to jerk away. I really did. For some reason I didn’t. It might have been the magnet that was inexplicably pulling me toward him that was to blame.
“Getting settled?” Sinclair said appearing in the doorway.
Feeling like I’d just been caught kissing behind the bleachers, I turned away hoping that I wasn’t blushing.
5
Ryder
This bet was nuts, but being someone who liked to keep life interesting, I was all for it. Especially if meant getting up close and personal with Trina. The craziest part of this deal was that the practical, serious Trina was participating in it. She wasn’t a woman to do anything that she hadn’t already researched and plotted out on a chart. I half-expected to see some sort of schedule or honey-do list to show up taped to my refrigerator. She definitely wasn’t a woman who enjoyed life. I was certain her definition of fun was organizing her sock drawer or categorizing her books. Would she do it by genre or alphabetical order? Some combination of both, probably.
Despite this bet going against her nature and good sense, she did agree to it, and I knew that once she agreed to it, she would be too proud and stubborn to back out, which meant that now she was in my house. With her here, maybe I could find out why the heck she acted like I was the last man on earth she’d ever give the time of day to. What had happened ten years ago to turn her against me? Once I knew that, maybe I could change her mind about me.
But now wasn’t the time. Now I needed to let her acclimate to her new surroundings. She was like a skittish cat, and I need to move slow to help her feel safe and comfortable.
“I’ll let you get settled,” I said to Trina, leaving her with Sinclair. I headed to my kitchen, the only room in the house that had an upgrade since I bought it from my grandparents, who’d moved into an active senior community a couple of years back. The home was as old as dirt, and definitely needed some work, but it was sturdy and clean, and fit my needs.
I pulled out a pitcher of sun tea and some glasses.
“So, you’ve gotten what you wanted.” Sinclair stood in the kitchen doorway leaning against the door jam.
“What do you mean?” I loved Sinclair, but that didn’t mean I always liked it when she used her twin Spidey-sense on me.
“Play coy if you want, but I know you. I just hope this isn’t to get in her pants. I hope that whatever it is between you two is more than that.” She stepped into the kitchen.
“The way she feels about me, I’m sure she’s wearing a chastity belt.” I had no doubt that Trina’s pussy was locked up as tight as Fort Knox. Not that I wasn’t averse to finding the key, but my goal was more than that. This crazy attraction to her needed to be resolved, one way or the other, even if it meant my finally getting over it and moving on.
Sinclair laughed. “You could be right. Maybe you could loosen her up a bit. She takes life too seriously.”
“I thought it was just me she was prickly around.” I put ice in the glasses.
“She’s most prickly around you, but she’s pretty intense and judgy around most things. She likes order and control, two things that aren’t associated with you.” She looked toward my windowsill. “Don’t forget the mint. It will be a nice touch.”
I laughed, thinking it was strange to have my sister playing cupid. “Thanks.” I pulled two leaves from the plant.
“I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You’re not staying for some tea?”
“Nah. I’ll let you get started on your bet. Play nice,” she ordered.
“I’m always nice,” I said as I poured tea into each glass.
“Oh yeah. Hopefully, she’ll play nice.”
I wasn’t going to hold my breath. At least, not initially. Trina was a sexy, beautiful woman, but like a rose, she had thorns and wasn’t afraid to use them. My hope was that I could wear her down enough that she could put her thorns away, and we could be friends. Okay, I wanted more than friends, but if that’s all I got, I’d accept that. What I had a hard time with
was how hostile she was to me most of the time after we’d grown up together as friends.
I put a mint leaf in each glass and once Sinclair left, I took the glasses to Trina’s room.
“Tea?” I asked as I entered the room. Trina was standing by the window, looking out over the vast Nebraska landscape.
She turned and quirked a brow in suspicion.
I laughed. “It’s just iced tea.”
She took the glass I extended to her. “There’s no Long Island in it, is there?”
“I’m off bartending duty now. Besides, I’m not the type of husband to slip his wife a mickey.”
She frowned. “That’s too weird.”
“What is?”
“You calling me wife.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t feel so weird to me.” I sort of liked it, although it could be that I enjoyed it because it bugged her so much. I liked pushing her buttons, which might be why she was always wary of me. I’d have to work on that.
She smirked. “Come on, you’re not the marrying type.”
The comment annoyed me, but I tried to hide it behind a sip of my tea. “Why do you think that?”
“What is your longest relationship? A week? Two?”
Ten years, I thought, but who was counting? The truth was, since high school there had been something about Trina that I’d never been able to get out of my system. The fact that ten years later it was still there, even though she clearly barely tolerated me, said something about me. I wasn’t sure if it said that I was capable of a long-term relationship or that I was delusional in thinking I could change her mind about me. If anything, though, it showed I was patient.
“Does that mean you’re not the marrying type? Because I haven’t seen you in any sort of long-term relationship.” The idea of another man calling her wife didn’t sit well with me. I rolled my shoulders to release the tension that idea caused.
She shrugged and turned away. “I’ve got more important things than worrying about men.”
Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 24