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Too bad that by the time her shift was over at the bar that night, she was antsy and wondering if he was still coming for her. Would he still pick her up, or would he listen to her advice from earlier and avoid her like the plague?
Hugh came up behind her, too close, and rested his hands on her shoulders. What had once felt like a friendly touch now felt…wrong. Was Mike right? Did Hugh really want more than friendship from her? She’d never paid much attention to it before but he was standing awfully close to her. “Do you still have a ride home, or do you want to go home with me?”
She swallowed and fought the urge to shrug free. Why did that sound so filled with unspoken promises? “I think I have a ride.”
“That guy?” Hugh asked, his hands falling back to his sides.
“Yeah. He’s my…my…”
“Husband is the word you’re looking for, wife,” Mike said, his voice hard.
She refused to look into the fact that her pulse leapt at Mike’s voice. Refused to acknowledge that she was happy he’d come. She turned away from Hugh, forgetting all about the odd encounter. “Temporary wife, you mean.”
He shrugged, his heated gaze pinning her in place. “If you say so.”
She rolled her eyes, but inside she felt so…alive. “Obviously you didn’t listen to my advice.”
“When have I ever listened to other people’s opinions when it comes to my happiness?”
She dropped the white rag on the bar top and threw up her hands. “I don’t know. I barely know you.”
He curled his fingers around the nape of her neck and gently urged her mouth down on his. She didn’t bother to pretend she even wanted to fight his hold. Just kissed him back. When he released her, he smirked. “There. Now you know me well enough to know that I’ll kiss you into silence when you won’t stop arguing.”
She flicked her tongue over his lips playfully. “And you know me well enough to know my reaction will be running away.”
She shoved his shoulders back, grinning when he flopped back onto the barstool, and skirted around the edge of the bar. The speakers blared a Carrie Underwood song and she practically skipped to the exit. He caught up with her outside of the door, pressing his body against hers, tilting her face up to his.
“You’re playing me like a fucking fiddle, aren’t you?”
“No.” She said seriously and met his eyes. “I’m not.”
“Then tell me the truth. Do you honestly want me to walk away and never see you again? To annul this marriage and forget it ever happened? Or are you the slightest bit curious why we married each other in the first place? If, while drunk, we had an idea that might actually be a good one?”
She clung to his arms, holding on tight. “What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath. “I have a proposal.”
“Isn’t that wh
at got us in trouble in the first place??”
His brows slammed down. “You came up with the idea. I just said yes.”
“Oh my God.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m so not going there again.”
He rubbed her shoulders and she closed her eyes, feeling the tension ease in her tight muscles. If husbands did this, then she might have to keep him around.
“But anyway, back to my proposal.”
“Go for it—just keep massaging me while you ask.”
He gave a soft laugh and continued rubbing her. “Fair enough.” He inhaled, seemed to be gathering up the courage to say what he had to say. She opened her eyes and watched. “I’ve done way too much thinking lately. And I keep coming back to the same thing. We got married, despite our mutual dislike for the state of matrimony, and it has to be for a reason, right?”
“No, it doesn’t have to be.” She swallowed past the agreement she could feel building inside of her, not wanting to acknowledge it. “It was a silly night, nothing more.”
“You can’t really feel that way. Not after this morning.” His fingers froze on her. “Not after the way we both react to one another.”
She blew out a sigh, neither confirming his assumptions nor denying them. “What do you want from me, Mike?”
