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“Thanks,” I whisper. I’m still out of sorts over his comment.
Legend’s quiet as he waits for me to get buckled in before closing my door. I watch him as he takes his time walking around the front of the truck and opening his door to slide behind the wheel. Reaching over, he hands me his phone.
“You get to be the DJ.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
“Happy wife, happy life.” He grins.
“So, I get whatever I want, whenever I want it?” There is humor in my voice. He knows I’m kidding. I’m not high-maintenance, and I don’t expect him to continue to spoil me like he has been since—well, since this charade started.
He keeps his eyes on the road, but I can see his grin. “Yeah, gorgeous, that’s exactly what that means.” He pulls out onto the road.
“So, if I said we’re eating tacos for every meal while we’re gone?”
“Good thing I like tacos.”
“Too easy. You’ll eat anything.” I laugh, and so does he. “Okay, what if I said I want a foot rub every night before bed?”
“Done.”
“Just like that?”
He glances over quickly before putting his eyes back on the road. “You sound surprised. There is no part of my hands on you that sounds like a bad idea to me.”
My heart trips over in my chest. Flirty Legend I can handle. I’ve dealt with him for years. Sweet Legend, I have no idea what to do with. He has me feeling like I’m a puddle of goo. The swoon this man brings with his words is next level. I’m going to have to harden up. I need to erect some concrete barriers around my heart if I’m going to attempt to make it out of this arrangement of ours unscathed.
Again, the man has left me speechless. Heat fills my cheeks. I’m not usually one to get embarrassed, and I’m not now either, but I am turned on. I ignore his words because how do you respond to that? Instead, I tap the screen of his phone, and my breath hitches when I see his home screen.
“Where did you get this?” I hold up his phone.
He glances over, and the smile he gives me could end wars. Trust me, it’s that lethal. “My mom took it. She texted it to me this morning.”
I stare down at his phone. It’s a picture of the two of us yesterday at our wedding reception. Legend is standing behind me with his arms wrapped around my waist and his head bent next to mine. We’re both laughing and smiling. The picture—it’s convincing. We look like the epitome of the happy newly wedded couple.
My fake husband made his home screen a picture of us on our wedding day. No one will see his phone but him, and, well, apparently me.
“I love it,” I say softly, staring down at the phone in my hands.
“Me too. She’s going to print me a copy for my room at the shop.”
“You’re going to put a picture of us in your room?” That’s a big deal. All of his clients and our friends will see it displayed. Our friends know we’re pretending, but still.
“Why wouldn’t I put a picture of my wife and me in my room?” he asks. His brow furrows as if he’s really confused as to why I would be shocked.
“I guess because we’re pretending.”
“There is nothing pretend about the fact that you just took my last name, Monroe.”
This time, it’s not just my heart that flips in my chest, but my belly is flopping too. It feels as though there’s a swarm of butterflies taking flight. “You know what I mean. We’re just pretending.”
“Did you pretend to marry me yesterday? I remember very vividly both of us signing those papers and saying, ‘I do.’”
“No.”
He reaches over, takes one of my hands in his, and lifts it to his lips for a kiss. “Give us some tunes, gorgeous.”
I nod, and with one hand, I scroll through his music app and pick a playlist. I settle on country because this man has me all up in my feels. He knows it, too, which is why he changed the subject.
