“How’s the job hunt going?” he asked as he uncapped the bottle of Gatorade. “I’m surprised you haven’t found anything yet.”
“It’s been less than a month.” I turned away from him so he couldn’t see how upset I was whenever I thought about my job situation. I wasn’t used to being idle, but at least I had the repairs of the house to keep me busy.
“That’s true, but you’re not having any troubles, are you?”
“I’m sure something will come up soon.” I neatly avoided his question, hoping he didn’t realize it. “What are you doing here anyway? Not that it’s not great having you stop by, but I thought you would’ve been busy writing.”
He groaned, swiping his top lip with the back of his hand. “I’m having a little trouble with the words, and a few people in my writing group suggested I give it a break, so I’m doing that. Hopefully, by the time I get home, I’ll feel more relaxed.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “God, no. We writers like to pretend first drafts aren’t a thing.”
I laughed at the horrified look on his face. “All right, keep it a secret. Are you good to help me with the screen door at the back? I have the new one in the garage.”
“Sure. I hardly get to do stuff like that at the house anymore, and I miss it.”
“What’s stopping you from doing it?” We walked out the kitchen to the garage.
“Declan has someone to fix everything that’s broken.”
“Then tell him he doesn’t need to. That you like fixing things around the house. Your marriage is an equal thing, you know, and you should be able to do what makes you happy.”
“Of course, you’re right.”
I flashed him a smile. “Of course, I am.”
He bumped my shoulder with his. “Now you’re just being a cocky little shit like Oscar.”
I laughed hard and slung an arm around his shoulders. “I won’t tell Oscar that. If I can borrow your hot tub sometime.”
He grinned at me. “Sure thing. Deal. If you don’t mind what Declan and I do in there.”
“No, I don’t mind at all.” Especially after what Charles and I had done in there as well.
Chapter Three
Charles
“Charles, I was thinking—”
Poppy barged into my bedroom without knocking but pulled up short where I stood with my shirt unbuttoned. For a brief moment, desire crossed her features, and the bit of scoundrel left inside me liked that. That she still wanted me, even with our sham of a marriage and the lineup of younger men she filled her bed with lately.
“You should knock, Poppy.”
“The door was open.”
Partially open. I’d been about to leave when I decided to change my shirt. I much preferred this light casual one. The dark green went better with my slim-fitting chinos. For someone who obsessed about clothes and looking good, I was conscious I’d only gotten worse since dating—
What the hell?
Not dating. Sneaking around with August.
“Something wrong?” She followed me as I walked into my huge walk-in closet, where I returned the shirt on the white revolving rack.
“I thought we could have dinner together,” she replied. “Although from the looks of things, you’re already going out.”
“Dinner?” I closed the closet door behind me. “I thought you had a date?”
“It got canceled.”
Ah. Now she needed someone else to entertain her for the night.
“Sorry, Poppy, but I’m not going to be here.”
“But you can be.” She touched my shoulder and trailed her hand down my arm. “Remember what it used to be like when we were in bed? It was the one good thing we had. We’re already married, so no reason we can’t enjoy all the perks.”
I removed her hand from my arm and stepped away. I didn’t have much time to tolerate her BS. Not when August was at home waiting for me to show up. I was impatient to see him and coax him into wearing just the utility belt for me again.
Only this time I’d get the opportunity to touch. And taste.
“We already agreed this marriage is in name only,” I said gently. “You were fine with that, and tomorrow, when you have another date, you’ll be sorry you slept with me again.”
As sorry as I was sure I would be too. I couldn’t waste that kind of energy on her when I could get a better offer with August. She couldn’t give me what I craved.
“I’ve never been sorry I slept with you. I’ve never had to fake it with you. Not once.” She rolled her eyes. “All these younger men don’t have the patience to love me right.”
“It can’t be me.” I stepped around her. “We have a business deal, and that’s the way it should remain. Strictly business between us. Maybe try to find an older guy next time.”
She scowled, staring down at her belly. “It’s hard to do that when I don’t exactly look my best.”
“What are you talking about? Your pregnancy has made you look beautiful.”
“Well, the novelty of fucking a pregnant woman is losing its appeal the bigger I get. I can’t believe I have to wait for four more fucking months.”
“Try to relax. Order in, sit in the tub, and have an early night. You might feel better after.”
“Meanwhile you’re fucking some unknown whore. Who’s she?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Cut it out, Poppy. We both know you’re not jealous, and we’re openly seeing other people.”
“So you are seeing someone. Is it serious, or are you just fucking around?”
I thought about August and how we talked and just existed in each other’s presence when we weren’t having sex. It could’ve been something serious in an alternate reality where his father wasn’t married to my son. Or where I wasn’t married and expecting a baby in a few months.
“It’s a temporary situation,” I said. “We have a mutually satisfying relationship. He gives—” I clamped my mouth shut at the strangled sound that came from her. Oh, shit.
“You’re having an affair with a man?”
“It’s none of your business. Good night, Poppy.”
“But you’re straight!”
I ignored her and headed for the door. Her soft footsteps echoed after mine.
“Good night, Poppy. Don’t wait up.” As if she ever did.
“You can’t just drop that bombshell and leave! Charles, you just confessed you’re sleeping with a man.”
“And so what?” I turned to her halfway down the stairs.
“If anyone finds out about it, it’ll be all over Cincinnati’s gossip rags. You’ll start a scandal, and I’ll be the laughingstock. Can you imagine the nasty things they’ll say about me? That I can’t please my husband? That he has to get his pleasure from a man?”
She looked horrified at the thought, while I was amused at how easily she’d made my sexuality all about her.
“Our relationship is private. Now you’re the only one who knows about it. I’m sure you wouldn’t go to the media.”