Chapter 11
S ailor
I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it, feeling too many things at one time. Lunch with Jairo had been stressful. Watching Rival with his friend showed me a side of him I hadn't seen before. The person he was outside of our complicated arrangement, and shit, I liked that person. I also really liked Jairo. He was a good friend to Rival and embraced the idea of him being married to me. I could see him being a solid fixture in our lives and in this marriage but that meant accepting I was going to be in this marriage.
I moved to the bed and dropped onto it, carefully avoiding my case files, but my concentration was shot. My mind kept wandering back to the workshop. Rival's hands guiding mine over the smooth wood and the pride in his voice when he talked about that part of his life. It was sexy. He was sexy and not just his damn body. All of him.
"Focus, Sailor," I muttered before picking up a statement from a witness who claimed to have seen Frederick near Burger Buzz the night of the fire.
The witness's account contradicted the timeline Frederick had given me, which normally would have set off alarms. But at the moment, all I could think about was the way Rival's eyes literally absorbed me.
"I’m fucked," I said aloud, tossing the file aside. I liked being the center of my husband’s attention.
My phone vibrated with a text from Skylar, giving me a much needed distraction.
Skylar: How's domestic bliss?
I rolled my eyes, typing a quick response.
Me: Hardly blissful. Just weird.
Skylar: Weird good or weird bad?
Me: Just weird. His friend came by for lunch.
Skylar: And?
Me: And nothing. We ate Thai food and talked.
Skylar: You hate Thai food.
Me: I know.
Skylar: And you ate it and didn't complain?
Me: I was on my best behavior.
Skylar: Who are you and what have you done with my sister?
I didn't respond. I didn't know myself anymore. The Sailor Addison who existed a week ago—confident, independent, allergic to commitment—was disappearing and being replaced by someone who ate food she hated to impress her fake husband's friend.
Me: Still me, Sky. Relax. You told me to play nice so that’s what I’m doing.
Skylar: I did but surely didn’t think you would do it. I’m proud of you.
I groaned and locked my phone when I heard a knock on my door.
"Yeah?"
Rival opened the door and glanced around the room before his eyes locked on mine.
"There's a problem with the upstairs bathroom. Leak under the sink, simple fix but I could use an extra pair of hands."
"I'm not exactly a plumber.”
"Neither am I but I think we can make it work. Consider it your contribution to our happy home."
I sighed and lifted from the bed. "Fine, but if the house gets flooded, it's on you."
He led me to the bathroom across the hall from my bedroom, where a small puddle had formed on the floor beneath the sink. I had a feeling he wanted my help more than he needed it, and shit, I liked being wanted by my husband.
"Hand me that wrench," he said, gesturing to a toolbox he'd brought up. He was already on his back, sliding under the sink to inspect the pipes.
I rummaged through the toolbox, finding what he needed. "Here."
He worked for a minute before extending his arm from under the sink.
"Hold this." He passed me a section of pipe while he worked on something else.
I knelt beside him, peering under the cabinet to see what he was doing. His T-shirt moved up his body, revealing a tattoo I hadn't noticed before curving around his side. Some sort of geometric pattern that disappeared beneath his shirt.
"I’ve never paid attention to the detail of this," I said without thinking, then moved my fingers over his skin.
He glanced at me, looking amused as hell. "I have more. Would you like a detailed overview? I know every inch of your body, Sail. Seems a little unfair that you don’t know mine.”
"When we were naked I was distracted by other things." I immediately regretted my choice of words when his smile widened.
"Such as?"
"Such as having amazing orgasms and not wanting to be married to you.”
"And how's that working out?" He turned his attention back to the pipes, making an adjustment that stopped the dripping.
"About as well as your plumbing skills."
He laughed sexily. "So improving by the minute, then."
"Agree to disagree.”
“I’ll accept that but you’re still Mrs. Hassan.”
Apparently.
I stood abruptly, needing space. This man was always so damn sure. "I think you've got this under control. I should get back to my case."
Rival moved out from under the sink and wiped his hands on a towel. Water had soaked the front of his shirt, making it cling to his chest in a way that was entirely too damn distracting.
"Hot date with legal briefs?" He stood, extending to his full height.
"More interesting than pretending to be a plumber."
"Debatable but if you'd rather read that boring shit than help your husband maintain our home, who am I to stop you?
" Our home.”
"For the next year, at least." His eyes were on me, searching, before he added, “Unless you've changed your mind about wanting out when the time's up."
"Nothing's changed, Rival."
It was a lie, and from the arrogance of his expression, he knew but didn't call me on it. Instead he nodded and stepped back.
“I’ll let you get back to work. Thank you for helping.”
“You’re welcome.”
I headed back to my room and closed the door. I leaned against it, trying to make sense of the flutter in my stomach. This was just another day in the house where I now lived, with the man I was technically married to. No big deal.
So why the hell am I blushing?
Luckily another distraction landed and I was able to refocus. My phone vibrated on the bed and I crossed the room to grab it. I had a call from an unknown number.
"Sailor Addison."
"Ms. Addison, this is Detective Clover with Atlanta PD. I'm calling about your client, Fredrick Williams."
I immediately shifted into lawyer mode. "What about him?"
"There's been a development in the case. New evidence has come to light that suggests your client's involvement was more significant than previously thought."
Ahh, fuck!
"What kind of evidence?"
"I'd rather not discuss it over the phone. Could the two of you come down to the station tomorrow morning? Say, nine o'clock?"
"We'll be there, and detective? My client maintains his innocence. Whatever you think you've found, I'd advise against jumping to conclusions."
"Noted, counselor. See you tomorrow."
I ended the call and stared at the phone. I prayed that Frederick's case hadn’t just gotten more complicated. This was supposed to be an easy win and my new husband had become a distraction I was starting to appreciate.