Page 23 of The Marriage Mistake

“You have a little—” Before I could react, Jack reached his thumb up to my lips and wiped a bit of chocolate frosting off. He sucked it off his thumb, eyes blazing as he watched me.

I combusted. A chain reaction happened inside my body, and detonations began to go off. I’d never actually had a physical reaction like this before, and I was unprepared for its intensity. Right there, in the warm fall sunshine, with a cool breeze ruffling my hair, I felt the spot where he’d touched my lip like he’d branded me.

He was a player who’d slept with untold women in this town. Unqualified to be my life partner for a multitude of reasons. Completely wrong for me—if he’d ever want someone like me anyway. Our arrangement was temporary, and more importantly, fake.

But in that moment, the heat burning in the pit of my stomach was real. And I thought, as Jack edged closer and wrapped his fingers around my wrist to bring the donut up to his mouth so he could take a bite, that the heat in his eyes was real too.

Until the scuff of a boot jarred me out of my stupor, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Ivan glaring at us from beneath bushy eyebrows. He sneered at Jack, then looked at me. “Enjoy it while it lasts, girl. This one tosses ‘em aside like candy wrappers.”

He was through the door before Jack could finish growling his name. Ice coursed through my veins, and I disengaged my wrist from Jack’s grasp. Jack glared at the door, then turned to me. “Don’t listen to anything he says.”

I suspected Ivan’s words were closer to the truth than not, so all I could do was give him a shaky nod.

Jack responded by tilting his head toward the big windows at the front of Knead More Bread. “Good news, though, we have an audience, and I think we really sold it to them.”

If Ivan’s words hadn’t made me go cold, Jack’s had succeeded. I glanced at the windows and saw at least a half a dozen pairs of eyes watching us with great interest. Heat blasted up my neck and over my cheeks, and I had to turn away to hide my flush. I stared at the opposite side of the street, at the overgrown trees and faded shop signs.

I’d been turned on. Me! I’d been turned on by Jack. What was wrong with me? I didn’t get turned on! And I certainly didn’t lose sight of what was important only twenty-four hours after embarking on this whole reckless plan.

Jack had turned on the charm like he was flicking a light switch, and I’d fallen for it. So incredibly pathetic. He wasn’t actually into me. He didn’t actually like me. He was just trying to sell the lie that he did. Our entire plan was for us to fool the town—and his grandmother—for the next four weeks so we could get married and collect the money.

The one cardinal rule that I absolutely could not break was do not fall in love with your fake husband!

And here I was, getting all hot under the collar about him taking a bite of my donut!

Was I that starved of affection that I fell for his stupid games?

No. No, this was not happening. Whatever fire had kindled in my belly was getting extinguished, pronto. I squared my shoulders, pointing my gaze at the car. “Well. That’s a successful morning. I’ve got work to do, so should we head back?”

Jack was silent for long enough that I was forced to meet his gaze. He had a strange look in his eyes. Tension lined his body, and his gaze was intent. Intense. He watched me for a long moment, then dipped his chin. “Let’s go,” he said.

JACK

I’d crossed a line. But she’d looked at me with those wide green eyes and those lips that begged to be kissed, and I hadn’t been able to resist reaching over to touch her.

Later that night, I couldn’t resist closing my eyes and imagining those lips once more. Wondering how they’d look parted while she moaned my name. Swollen from my kiss. Wrapped around my cock.

Impertinent, difficult, closed-off woman. Wanting her this badly wouldn’t end well.

SIX

EMBER

The next three days passed in a similar fashion. Jack and I went into town in the morning after dropping Darby off. We grabbed hot drinks, took a walk, or window shopped the few businesses that were still open. We made pleasant conversation with all the nosy people who came over to speak to us. Women looked me up and down, confused, judgmental.

I learned that Jack was an expert at making people feel like they were the center of the universe. Men puffed their chests when they spoke to him. Women blushed and tittered. Age didn’t matter; everyone glowed under his attention.

I felt like a fool for being one of them.

After our morning outing, I’d go home and work from my little dormer bedroom until it was time to come out for dinner, with only some short breaks for food, fresh air, and the bathroom. After one dinner of half-burned frozen pizza on Tuesday, I decided I’d cook for them while I was here. It was no big chore; I loved cooking and I was good at it. For once, I had people to cook for.

On Wednesday, I met Gabi, the mother of Darby’s best friend. While we ate breakfast, there was a knock on the kitchen door.

Jack opened it to reveal a woman in her thirties or early forties, wearing slim jeans, a tight turtleneck, and high-heeled boots. Her glossy brown hair was blown out in big waves, and she flashed a bright smile at my husband. My temporary, sort-of, almost husband.

“Jack,” she purred. “So good to see you.” Her eyes darted to me, then to Darby. Her smile widened to the point of almost looking strained at the edges. “Hi, girl. Ready for school?”

“Yeah,” Darby announced. “I’ll just get my shoes and my bag.” She ducked out of the room, and the three of us were left alone.