Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Ajme Williams

  He seemed to think on that. “Huh. Good to know.”

  “Why are you asking about that?”

  He shrugged. “If I can’t date you, I can be your friend, right? I’m a good friend. Just ask Brooke.”

  I couldn’t decide if he was changing tactics or really accepting my stance. A part of me was disappointed he wasn’t trying harder, which was really messed up of me. I didn’t want him to try harder. I wanted him to be relegated to colleague. More than that, I wanted my hormones to shut up around him, which would be impossible now that I knew how good he could make my hormones feel.

  I had to take him as his word, so I smiled. “You can never have enough friends.”

  I pointed his bacon at me. “You’re so right.”

  With my stomach somewhat settled, I poured syrup on my pancakes and took a bite.

  “Am I right or am I right about pancakes and hangover relief?”

  I laughed. “Pancakes probably cure a lot of ills.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Do you have lots of ills?”

  I sighed as my dilemma with Meredith came to mind. “Just one,” I said, not including the complication I had with him.

  “What is it?” he asked, digging into his eggs.

  “I’m working on fundraising for the library, and have a great potential donor that I’m about to lose when I tell her the truth about my life situation.”

  He stopped mid-bite. “Your life situation? What does that mean?”

  “She thinks I’m married.”

  “Why would your single status be a problem?” His brows furrowed in confusion.

  “Because she’s old fashioned and thinks women my age are old maids or are ruining society by not being married.”

  “Fuck her.”

  I laughed. “Except she has money that the library really needs. You’ve seen the library. It’s really lacking in resources the kids could use.”

  He thought for a moment. “So, when you tell her you’re single, she won’t donate? That sounds crazy.”

  “I know, but when I saw her the other night, she made a big deal about marriage and children.” I leaned forward. “She invited herself over to my house to have dinner with me and my husband. She said she could learn a lot about people by spending time in their home. You know what she’s going to learn about me?”

  “You’re a dedicated teacher?”

  I scoffed. “That I’m a lying old maid who can’t keep house. I can’t even cook, Tucker.” All of a sudden, I felt sick again, but it had nothing to do with drinking too much and everything to do with being judged as a spinster with a tired home.

  He finished chewing his eggs, took a sip of his coffee and then looked at me. “There is a simple solution to this problem.”

  “I’d love to hear it.”

  “Get a fake husband. I hear it’s the rage in Salvation.”

  I laughed, knowing that several couples, including his friend Brooke and the mayor engaged in a fake marriage. Except, it couldn’t have been that fake. Brooke and the mayor were happily married. As were Sinclair and Wyatt, and Trina and Ryder.

  “Even if that was a possibility, where would I find a fake husband in the next couple of days?”

  He held his hands out. “You’re looking at him.”

  “No.”

  He arched a brow.

  “It’s not a good idea.” I said the words, even though inside, my girly parts flared to life at the idea of playing pretend couple with Tucker. Dumb hormones.

  “What’s the big deal? One dinner. Turns out, I can cook. You solve two problems with one solution. Besides women, even old women like me.”

  “Yes, I know,” I quipped.

  “It’s the dimples?” He grinned, showing off said dimples. “Come on. We can pull this off. We have chemistry. We know each other well enough to act married.”

  “Except—”

  “Just for show, Holly. I won’t try any moves on you in private.”

  How annoying that I was disappointed in that. Of course, there was still the problem of our age difference. What would Meredith think if I showed up with Tucker as my husband. Surely, she’d think it was completely inappropriate for me to be with a man thirteen years my junior.

  I shook my head. “I’m just not sure she’d buy it. Or approve.”

  “Approve? Of me? What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that—”

  He leaned forward, his expression earnest. “I’m telling you, I’m good with women.”

  “You’re not planning to sleep with her too, are you?” The minute it was out of my mouth I regretted it. I wasn’t even sure where it came from.

  He frowned. “First, you and I didn’t sleep. Second, I’m not a horndog. I’ve been clear that I’m into you and only you.” He rolled his shoulders and the tension in his face lessened. “And I’m not a gigolo. I’ll help you get your money, but I won’t sell my body for you.” He grinned. “But I’m flattered you think my dick is powerful enough to generate thousands of dollars.”

  I marveled how he could go from annoyed to joking in a breath. “Your dick is quite persuasive. But I just don’t see us being able to pull this off.”

  He sat back. “Okay. I offered. If you’re okay in falling short of your goal and disappointing the children…”

  I rolled my eyes. “Does this guilt trip usually work?”

  He flashed his dimples. “Usually.” He reached out and took my hand. “Look, one dinner. How hard can it be to convince an old woman you’re a solid married woman? Especially if this library project is important to you?”

  “It is. We did some fundraising at the Harvest Festival, but it wasn’t enough.”

  “So, let me help. I’ll cook dinner and be charming, and when the night is over, you’ll have your library funds. I’ll even help you fix up those little things around your house.”

  “Are you for real?”

  “Like am I an alien?”

  Or angel, I thought. “Yes.”

  “You’ve seen me naked, what do you think?” He waggled his brows.

  “We’re not supposed to think about that. We’re just friends, remember.”

  His face feigned seriousness. “Oh yeah. Friends.”

  As I considered his offer and what was at stake, I had to agree that it was a small little fib for one night that could help Salvation children for years. If I was truly committed to the project, I could suck it up for one night.

  “Okay. One dinner.”

  He grinned. “I feel like I’ve finally made it in this town. I’ve joined the fake married club.”

  I laughed. “Glad to help initiate you.”

  “You’re the only one I’d want to be fake married to.” He rubbed his hands together like he was ready to get to work. “So, how does this work?”

  I had no idea how to pull off a fake marriage.

  But we forged forward with the plan. Unfortunately, as Tucker came over to help fix up a few things at my home over the weekend, I was sure trying to have a fake marriage was a bad idea. Still, I had to appreciate that he was one-hundred percent committed to pulling it off. He planned a beef and potatoes dinner, chose the wine, and worked as a handyman in my home. He could truly do it all. He didn’t need a wife at all, except I guess for sex.

  Speaking of sex, he was true to his word in that he didn’t try any funny business. He didn’t even speak in code or innuendo about sex. Each night when he left for his own home, I was left annoyed and frustrated. For one, for someone who said he wanted to date me, he didn’t seem to have any trouble acting like “just a friend.” The fact that his friends-only attitude hurt and annoyed me, pissed me off. My whole goal was for him to not like me as more than a friend, so why was I so disappointed that he’d given up trying? Seriously, there was something wrong with me.

  Then of course, having his sexy body and charming smile around all day in those jeans that hugged his squeezable ass made my hormones go haywire. Each night when he left, I was
a ball of sexual frustration. My first stop was into a warm bath with hot oils and a waterproof vibrator to take the edge off. I was going to combust or go mad before this dinner was over, I was sure.

  9

  Tucker

  I was doing my best to be “just friends” while planning a fake marriage with Holly. But it was fucking hard. She was clueless in the kitchen and in home fixit, which only solidified my stance that she needed me around. And I did want to be around. She was smart and funny. She was strong and yet had a vulnerability that brought out a need in me to protect her. Of course, if I told her that, her strong side would have balked.

  And she was so pretty. Thank God my hands were busy, because every time I saw her, I wanted to run my fingers through her thick strawberry curls. I wanted to use my hands to discover every inch of her body. I left her house each night over the weekend with blue balls. When I got home, the first thing I did was shove my jeans down and jerk off.

  The night of the dinner, I left school and went home to shower, shave again, and put on slacks, a button shirt, and a tie. This was a dinner to make money for the library, so I wanted to look sharp.

  Then I drove to Holly’s parking my car next to hers in the drive so it looked like I lived there.

  “Hi honey, I’m home,” I said when she answered the door.

  She had that same look on her face as she did each day that I’d come by to help her get the place fixed up; a mixture of terror and panic.

  “We’re gonna be fine,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. She flinched. “It’s showtime,” I told her. “I’m a very attentive husband.” I walked past her to the kitchen, mostly so I wouldn’t press her up against the door and fuck her right there.

  I’d bought groceries for the dinner the other day, so I just pulled everything out and started cooking.

  “Where’d you learn to cook?” she asked as she poured wine for each of us.

  “My mom was adamant that I’d be an alpha male with a sensitive side. That means I can kick someone’s ass and cry at movies.”

  She laughed. “You’re definitely unique.”

  I shrugged. “Chicks dig it…at least in a guy friend.”

  “I doubt you have any trouble with the women,” she said.

  I cast a glance at her. “I’m not having much luck with you.”

  She had that uncomfortable expression, so I went back to my chopping.

  “I’ll set the table and tidy up,” she said, taking her wine glass with her as she left the kitchen.

  I got the roast and the potatoes cooking and then made a salad that I stuck in the fridge. Then I grabbed my glass of wine and the bottle, and went to find Holly. She was in the living room, staring in space.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” I asked.

  She looked up. “Is this where you thought you’d be by now?” Then she shook her head. “Never mind…you’re still starting out.”

  “No. I had no clue I’d end up in Nebraska. But I’m okay with that. It sounds like you’re feeling stuck or not happy in your life.” I stepped into the room, wanting to sit next to her, but instead taking a seat in a chair across from her. I set the wine bottle on the coffee table.

  She shrugged.

  “Let me guess. You thought you’d be married. Maybe have a kid or two. Perhaps you’d be taking classes on the side to get your administrative license so you could become a principal, maybe even the superintendent.”

  “Are you psychoanalyzing me?”

  I shook my head. “You don’t need a psych degree to understand people. Am I right? Close to right?”

  She looked down into her empty glass. I picked up the wine bottle using it as an excuse to move closer to her. I sat on the couch and refilled her glass.

  “I know you were engaged and that didn’t work out. I’m sorry. To be honest, you’re probably better off without him because he has to be a royal asshole idiot to walk away from you.”

  Her lips twitched upward slightly.

  “And if it’s kids, well…women are doing that alone by choice all the time, although I guess your Mrs. Reynold’s wouldn’t look positively on that. By the way, if you did want to go at it alone but needed a donor, I volunteer. There are twins in my family. You might get two for one.”

  She laughed. “Does anything ever get you down?”

  “Yes. Child abuse. Poverty. War.”

  She sighed. “You think I’m being melodramatic. My life isn’t so bad compared to others.”

  “There’s always someone who’ll have it worse. But no, I’m not trying to guilt you. I’m just a person who’d rather focus on the half full glass, not what’s empty. Life’s too short, then you die. So why not focus on the good? Right now, I’m with a smart, beautiful woman, drinking wine and about to help her raise money for a project to help kids. That’s all good in my book.”

  “We’re duping someone into thinking we’re married. That’s not good.”

  “It’s not bad.” Then I shrugged, because I suppose, lying is bad. “It’s for a good cause. End justifies the means, especially since no one will get hurt.”

  She inhaled a breath. “You’re right. Thank you.”

  “Anything for my wife.”

  She rolled her eyes but there was humor in it.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” I said reaching into my front pocket. “These are fake too, but they should be good enough to pass for our purposes.” I handed her a fake gold band.

  She looked at me. “Rings?”

  “If she’s traditional, she’ll expect them, right? These are from a costume box I had from when I volunteered in a children's theater.”

  She went pale and annoyance flared that she’d find being married to me, even fake married, so distasteful.

  “I…wasn’t thinking. This is so much more involved than I considered.”

  There was a knock at the door making her jump.

  “I guess you still have a split second to reconsider. But all the pieces are in place, if you think you can stomach me as your husband.” I hated how pathetic that sounded.

  She stared at me like she didn’t understand my tone. “Just one night.”

  Realizing she was scared shitless more than anything, I shoved the ring on her finger and put the other on mine.

  “You can do this.” I stood and held out my hand helping her up. “I’m going to check on dinner.” I squeezed her hand for reassurance, and then left her to answer the door.

  “Holly, so good of you to invite me,” I heard the woman say.

  “Of course, Mrs. Reynolds. Welcome to my home.”

  I rolled my shoulders and stepped out of the kitchen to meet Holly’s potential donor. She looked exactly like I thought she might. A woman with money and attitude.

  “Hello.” I smiled.

  “Mrs. Reynolds this is my husband…Tucker.” Holly seemed to be at a loss of what to call me.

  I extended my hand. “Hello Mrs. Reynolds, thank you so much for joining us. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes. Can I get you some wine?”

  “Hello.” Mrs. Reynolds frowned and for a moment I worried we were busted. “You’re cooking?”

  “Yes. Meat and potatoes. My favorite.”

  She turned to Holly. “You don’t cook?”

  Holly bit her lower lip.

  “She’s a disaster in the kitchen. I’d starve if I didn’t know how to cook,” I said jovially.

  Mrs. Reynold’s expression morphed into distaste. “Women should know how to cook. That’s how things are done. Women take care of the house and home and her man.”

  Good lord. I knew this woman had to be a bit over-the-top. Holly wasn’t a woman prone to exaggeration, so I knew her need for a husband was legit. But I always thought in today’s world, people kept these types of attitudes to themselves.

  I wanted to make a comment about Holly “cooking” and taking care of me in the bedroom, but decided neither woman would like that.

  So instead I said, “I love cooking. I was going to be a
chef once, and Holly is kind enough to let me indulge in that. It’s a great way for me to relax after work. Do you want a glass of wine?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “I’ll get it,” Holly said, preceding me into the kitchen. She got the bottle of red I picked up the other day to go with the meal. I glanced out to see Mrs. Reynolds looking around the home and then casting a glance at us.

  I stepped up behind Holly and whispered into her ear. “She’s watching, so I’m being husbandly.”

  She leaned back slightly against me and oh how I wish the move was for real. “This is already a disaster.”

  I kissed her cheek. “Wine will settle her down. I promise. If that doesn’t work, we’ll put her in a food coma.”

  She gave me a slight laugh. She poured the wine and took it out to Mrs. Reynolds while I prepared the food for serving.

  “Dinner,” I called as I set it on the dining table that had new linens.

  “Well this looks lovely Tucker, although it just doesn’t seem right for you to be doing Holly’s job.”

  I bit back a nasty retort. I needed to be on my best behavior so that Holly could get her money for the library. As much I wanted to stand up for Holly, doing so would likely ruin her chance to get the donation.

  “Can I serve you some potatoes?” Holly asked her.

  “Yes, please, dear. They do look delicious.”

  “I’m fairly new to Nebraska. I was so in love with Holly, I followed her here. But I don’t know much about the area. Tell me, are vegetarians allowed to live in this state?”

  Holly looked at me and then at the old bitty, probably trying gauge if I’d offended her.

  Mrs. Reynolds laughed. “We grow corn and other agriculture too. But, let’s face it, why be in Nebraska if you don’t like beef?”

  “Why indeed,” I said. I held up my glass to make a toast. “To beef.”

  Mrs. Reynolds grinned at me. “To beef.”

  “To beef,” Holly murmured and drank about half her wine.

  “If you followed your wife here, where are you from?” Mrs. Reynolds asked as she cut the slice of roast that I served to her.

  “Chicago. Home of Oprah and Obama.”