AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I know board games aren’t your favorite, but we’ve barely gotten to see you since we’ve been here. How about a game of cards instead?”
One of my eyebrows arches. She knows I don’t like card games any better. But she and Farrah have been here all week helping Amber, so how can I say no?
I clear my throat, plastering a smile on my face. “Yeah, sure.”
Farrah chuckles. “He probably wants to spend time with his wife, Mom.”
I offer her a silent look of thanks. Because that’s exactly what I want to do.
“Okay, I get it.” Mom smiles. “No card games tonight.”
Amber chooses that moment to enter the room. “Did somebody say card games?”
I stare blankly into the distance. The very woman I want to be alone with is ruining my chances of being alone with her. Perhaps my 99% certainty that she wanted me to kiss her was a little overly confident.
My mother’s face lights up. “Do you like cards?”
“I love Uno!” Amber takes her seat beside me. She glances at me once she’s seated and wrinkles her nose. Probably because my inner turmoil is broadcasted across my face.
“You okay?” she whispers, leaning close to my ear, so close I can smell her hair. I close my eyes and allow myself to revel in her nearness.
“Yes,” I croak, my voice sounding as unsure as I feel. Surprisingly, I actually have a set of Uno cards. They’re the collector’s NHL version that Coach Young gave all of us for Christmas a few years ago, and I’ve never opened them. I’m not much of a frivolous game player.
Begrudgingly, I scoot my chair back and head toward the drawer where I keep the unopened deck in.
When I bring them back to the table and sit down, Amber shoots me an amused glance.
“You’ve never opened them.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Nope.”
Mom takes the package from my hands and opens it, shuffling the large deck, then dealing each of us six cards.
Farrah organizes her cards in her hands then gasps. “Ford is on the reverse card!”
“You’re kidding!” Amber squeals, riffling through her own cards to see if she has a Ford Remington reverse card.
I roll my eyes when Mom gasps. “I have one too! Oh Ford, this is too cool.”
You know what would be cool? Lying in bed beside my wife as I try to count her freckles and stare into my favorite pair of vibrant green eyes.
Glancing at the clock on the stove, I see it’s only seven and hold in another groan.
Two hours later, I’m finally following Amber upstairs to bed. As soon as the door clicks shut behind us, I remember that Mom and Farrah will leave next week. Amber and I will no longer need to sleep in the same room.
The thought makes me deflate, all illusions of romance shattered. Amber is sleeping with me because it’s a necessity, an act. Even if she looked at me earlier like she wanted a kiss, that doesn’t make this marriage real. Maybe that was her pretending to be my adoring wife.
Amber takes her pajamas from one of the dresser drawers I cleared out for her. Three drawers. Just for her. I don’t want to put my stuff back inside those drawers. I’m not sure I can bear it. Maybe I’ll just leave them empty once she moves out of my room. Or maybe I’ll just keep clearing out more drawers and see if she stays and keeps filling the drawers with her things.
With a smile I can only describe as shy, she walks past me and into the master bathroom. While she’s in there, I hang up the suit I never changed out of and slip on a fresh pair of boxer briefs. I glance at myself in the large mirror that takes up a wall of my closet. I’m fit, abs on point—despite having eaten my weight in cake and enchiladas earlier. My haircut still looks decent too, and although my eyes look tired from traveling and not sleeping well, I’d say I look good. Conventionally attractive, even.
Staring at my physique, I make sure my small hip tattoo is covered, it is. And I silently contemplate going to bed shirtless tonight. Maybe then she’d look at me like something more than a best friend. Maybe she’d want to trail her hands across my pectorals…or rub my back, which is also very muscular. I’ve heard women like muscles.
I wouldn’t know from personal experience, since Amber is the only woman I’ve allowed this close to me. Something I’ve never told anyone—that not a single woman has ever been in my bed before Amber. And I like it that way.
I look myself over once more and lose my confidence, throwing a black tee over my torso and stomping out of the closet.
“You okay?” Amber’s sweet voice draws my gaze toward the bed. She’s sitting at the foot of the bed with one leg folded beneath her, her nightgown hiked up to expose the creamy freckled skin of her thigh.
