Page 5 of My Husband Problem

I don’t know what’s going on either.

Why is Declan here? Why now?

We haveone weekleft. We’ve been living apart for ten months, and we only have to make it seven more days, and this whole farce will be over.

Why thehellis Declan O’Grady in Rebel, Louisiana,now?

“We should be done here in just a few minutes,” Nora says to Declan. “Then she’s all yours.”

My stomach reacts to that, but not with the panic it should.

Oh, no, there’s a twist of heat in reaction to being ‘all his’ that isnotokay.

I have never been more attracted to a man in my entire life.

There are a lot of reasons for that, of course.

Declan is objectively good-looking. I don’t think there’s a woman, or even a man, who would deny that.

Dark hair, dark eyes, and a trimmed short beard all give him a broody, intimidating air. He’s six-three, in great shape, and has impeccable—and expensive—taste in everything from suits to soap.

But the real problem isn't the body or face.

It's that Declan has spent nearly two decades fixing everyone else's problems. His family. My family. Our entire little home country.

He's given up more than most people know, so the rest of us could chase our dreams.

Apparently, self-sacrificing competence is my kryptonite.

So, yes, I’m attracted towhoDeclan is as well as his pecs, and shoulders, and face. Ilikea lot of things about him. Unfortunately.

But dammit, I’m really physically attracted to him as well. More than I ever have been to anyone else in my life.

It’s gotten to the point where I can barely think when we're alone together.

Which is ahugeproblem.

That I solved by simply not being alone with him. Ever.

“Well, as you all know, it’s been a while since I saw my lovely bride,” Declan says to Nora.

Then he does the worst possible thing that he could—he gives the entire café a devastatingly gorgeous, charming grin.

Oh, fuck me.

He’s resistible when he’s being a growly, pensive man of few words. Barely, for sure, but itispossible.

My palms sweat, my nipples bead, and my lungs forget how to work even when he’s staring at me from across a small-town coffee shop, but I’m not vaulting out of my chair and running into his arms, am I?

But he can’t go around actually fucking grinning. And he can’t say self-deprecating things like ‘it’s been a while since I saw my bride’. As if he knows the entire town is annoyed that he doesn’t live here with me. As if he knows everyone in this café listens to the gossip podcast back home that's spent months speculating about our marriage and what Miles moving across the street might mean.

Our wedding had been huge news in Cara. Then we'd given everyone absolutely nothing. No public appearances. No trips home together. No kissing. No hand-holding. No fodder.

Then I moved to Louisiana. Without Declan.

Suddenly everyone had theories again.

It’s… a lot.