3. Jack
JACK
“Two black coffees, please,”I tell the barista through the drive-thru intercom. “Oh, and a couple of blueberry muffins, too, if you have them.”
“Sure thing, sir,” her voice crackles back. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s it.”
As I pull away from the window, rain tap dances on my windshield. The sky is painted in shades of somber grey but inside me, it feels like sunrise.
My girl said yes.
After I proposed to Marlie out of the blue yesterday, I honestly didn’t expect to hear from her again. But then, last night, she texted me two words that sent my world spinning on its axis: “I’m in.”
The relief was so intense that I wanted to shout out loud right there in my living room. Even against this morning’s dreary backdrop, I feel like I’m floating above the clouds.
With every passing hour, I become more sure that Marlie is ‘the one.’ Not just for show or for this assignment but for real. Love at first sight seems insane but it’s exactly how I feel about her.
I don’t want to scare Marlie off, so I won’t tell her this right away. But I know that once we’re married, even if it’s all make-believe, I won’t be able to let her go.
I’ll still hold up my end of the deal. The money and the store are hers. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself to her. Buy her whatever she wants, give her everything she needs. But once we say I do this afternoon, Marlie Watts is mine.
Forever.
I arrive at Marlie’s apartment ten minutes later. And when she opens the door, she’s wrapped in a fluffy pink bath towel that barely contains her curves. Another towel is twisted on top of her head while a few damp strands escape down the nape of her neck toward her perfect cleavage.
“Sorry,” she says sheepishly. “I’m running a bit behind.”
“No worries, baby,” I reassure her, my tone light. “We’re not in a rush. Take your time.” I hold up one of the coffee cups in my hand. “Brought you this, too.”
Marlie accepts the cup with a grateful smile as she steps aside to let me in.
Her apartment is compact but spotless, an organized chaos that seems to reflect her personality. The walls are painted a soft cream color and covered with framed photos and artwork that give it a homely feel. A small kitchenette occupies one corner, its counters scrubbed clean and gleaming under the overhead light.
“Nice place,” I murmur as I glance around. “Have you lived here long?”
“About five years,” she replies as she walks past me into the kitchen. “I’ve had this apartment since I moved here.”
“Oh, you’re not a local?” I ask, intrigued by this new piece of information about her.
She shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink. “Nope. Most of my family lives in Wyoming.”
I lean against the counter. “So, what brought you all the way to Vermont?”
“I came here for culinary school. Graduated last year.”
“So why stay?” I ask.
She shrugs lightly as she replies, “I guess it felt like home. Plus, it was a good base while I was getting my business off the ground.”
Suddenly, Marlie seems to remember she’s still wearing her bath towel. She hastily sets down her coffee cup on the nearby counter. “Um, I’m going to finish getting ready,” she announces, making a beeline for her bedroom.
“Sounds good,” I reply. “I’ll take your stuff to the truck.”
As I walk back into the living room, my gaze falls on two small suitcases sitting on the living room floor. “Are you sure this is all you need? Three months is a long time.”
A hint of embarrassment flickers across her face as she smiles weakly. “All my extra cash went into Macaroons by Marlie. This is all I have.”
My heart breaks a little at her words. “No problem, baby. I’ll take these out to the truck.”
As I carry the suitcases outside, my mind races with plans and promises. Marlie’s given up so much already. It’s time she gets a taste of being spoiled.
And I’m just the man to do it.
Every chance I get, my wife will know what it means to be cared for and cherished. Whether Marlie knows it or not, she’s not fighting for her dreams alone anymore. She’s got me now.
And I’m bringing everything I’ve got to the table.
Two hours later,we pull up to the private airport hangar.
Thankfully, the rain is gone, and the sun is high in the sky now, glinting off the hulking metal buildings that line the mostly empty tarmac. In the center of the runway, a gleaming private jet stands out like an elegant swan in a sea of mechanical geese.
I look over and steal a glance at Marlie. She’s staring out the window with wide-eyed wonder. “Is all this for us?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course,” I reply, reaching over to give her leg a reassuring squeeze. “Only the best for my bride-to-be.” Her cheeks flush at my words and I can’t help but grin. She probably thinks I’m teasing her, but nothing could be further from the truth.
Hopping out of the truck, I jog around to Marlie’s side and open her door. She places her hand in mine as she steps out and doesn’t pull away when I lead her towards our ride.
The interior of the jet is plush and inviting with roomy leather seats and ambient lighting.
Marlie takes a seat across the aisle from me—I wish she’d chosen my lap instead—but I know better than to push it now.
The airplane’s hum settles into a steady rhythm as we nestle into our seats. A flight attendant holding a silver tray with two champagne flutes appears in the aisle like an apparition.
“Good morning, Mr. Barton,” she greets us with a friendly nod. Would you and Mrs. Barton like a glass of champagne before we take off?”
“That sounds great, Elise. Thank you,” I tell her as I take the glasses from her and hand one to Marlie.
Once Elise walks away, I raise my glass to Marlie’s with a clink. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” she echoes softly. And I can’t tear my eyes away from her as she takes a sip, her pouty lips closing around the glass.
Inside, I’m a raging inferno of curiosity and desire.
Every cell in my body is attuned to her reactions, to the subtle shift in her breathing, to the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips after each sip of champagne.
What’s her history? Has anyone ever truly appreciated her?
The thought of her past lovers makes something territorial rear within me, and I’m suddenly eager to know what she’d be like beneath me, around me, lost in the heat we could generate together.
I glance up to find Marlie’s curious gaze fixed on me. She clears her throat. “So, what’s the plan for today?” she asks.
Her question is a welcome distraction. “Well, first we get married,” I start, a hint of amusement in my voice. “I’ve arranged for a small private ceremony with the justice of the peace on top of my family’s hotel balcony. After that, we can grab some dinner and head to my apartment to settle in.”
She pauses mid-sip. “Your family has a hotel?”
“It’s been in our family for decades. My brother John recently bought it from our parents so they could retire.”
Marlie tilts her head slightly, processing the information. “Does your brother run it all by himself? That seems like a lot. My sister’s husband runs a resort in Wyoming, but they have a whole army of people working for them now.”
I shake my head smiling at her concern. “No, he’s actually running it with his wife, Lisa.” A pause ensues before I add casually, “Their situation is sort of like ours, now that I think about it.”
She wrinkles her nose in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Before they got engaged, Lisa was John’s secretary at their law firm in Houston, where they both worked,” I explain, feeling an odd sense of deja vu. “Then, one weekend, Lisa agreed to be John’s fake girlfriend. The rest is history.”
Marlie laughs lightly at that revelation. “That does sound like us,” she says before adding with a smirk, “Except that they aren’t breaking up in a few months like we are.”
Her words hang heavily between us. The thought of parting ways with Marlie feels unthinkable.
“How about we just take things one step at a time,” I suggest with a noncommittal smile. “See where things lead.”
“Fine,” Marlie replies. “But we should probably set some ground rules.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Ground rules?”
She sets her glass down on her tray table with a gentle clink. “Just basic ones. No sex, no sharing the same bed. Things like that.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me, even as her words hit a tender spot inside. “Got it. Any other rules I should be aware of?” I ask, steering us back to lighter territory.
“Let’s start with those and see how we go?”
I nod. “Deal.”
Marlie giggles. “Guess we’re officially business partners now.”
“Guess we are,” I reply, leaning back in my seat. “Now we need to sell this marriage to anyone who might be watching.”
Marlie frowns, her lips parting slightly. “What do you mean?”
“We need tolook comfortable with each other. Like a real couple. No one is going to believe you’re my wife if you jump three feet in the air every time I lean in for a kiss.”
Her eyes widen. “Kiss?”
A small smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth.
“Yes Marlie, kiss. I agreed to your no-bed-sharing rules. But when we walk down that aisle, I fully intend on kissing my bride.”
She swallows hard at that, her resolve visibly wavering. “Jack, these things take time.”
“They also take practice,” I reply with ateasing grin. “And there’s no better time to start than now.”
Marlie shifts in her seat, her teeth catching her lower lip again—a sight that sends a jolt straight through me. Finally, shestands up and sighs.“I suppose you’re right.”
“That’s the spirit.” Ireach out andgently tug her toward me, guiding her down onto my lap.
But when she tries to sit sideways, I stop her.“It will probably be easierif you straddle me,” I explain.
Marlie looks hesitant at first,but then shecomplies. She turns to face me andthen sinks downslowly until she’s sitting on my lap with one leg on each side of my waist.
My dick is a crowbar in my pants at this point and I’m sure she can feel it through the thin fabric of her yoga pants.
But instead of pulling away, she just looks up at me shyly through her long eyelashes and says,“Is this okay?”
And that’s when it hits me. She’s never done this before.
Fuck me.
“It’s perfect, baby.”
It’s all I can manage before I close the distance and press my lips to hers.
Marlie’s lips are full and soft against mine, and she’s hesitant at first. But then she opens for me and I sweep my tongue into her mouth.
I want more, but I force myself to rein it in, remembering our audience of one: the flight attendant pretending not to notice from the other end of the cabin.
As I pull back, Marlie’s eyes flutter open, dazed and dark with something that might just mirror my own undisguised lust.
“See? I murmur. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Marlie giggles. “Jack Barton, practicing kissing with you is like playing with fire.”
“Then let’s make sure we don’t get scorched,” I reply, my lips curving into a grin that feels as dangerous as it does genuine. “For now.”