Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Spouse has been avoiding me. Technically, I can’t prove it, but between grocery shopping, my ballroom class, his accounting job, and busying himself making dinner that I am under no circumstances allowed to help with, we have barely spoken three words to each other for the past twenty-four hours.
He was so quiet getting ready for work that he’d snuck in and out and already left before I woke up to do my own workout.
Normally this would be fantastic news, but since our last exchange involved me confiding in him against all odds, the lack of interaction is unsettling.
What is he planning? I have taken measures into my own hands.
My search for the coffeemaker has turned up empty thus far.
I checked every inch of the house, which is how I found the coaster I’d “enhanced” for The Spouse weeks ago nestled in one of the kitchen drawers.
This is also how I discovered that The Spouse actually has something resembling a hobby: collecting thrillers, which he presumably reads.
Apple juice is the worst, and I hate it with every fiber of my being. Pun intended, since it has added a new meaning to doing a “juice cleanse.”
Gauthier’s goon squad is still outside watching us, following us whenever we leave the house—all the creepy things short of actually bugging the place. Yet . One of them even peeked into my ballroom class as I was teaching.
Colleen brought a pound cake to the goons out in the car while I was checking our empty mailbox, which is apparently her way of getting the scoop on anything and everything happening in the neighborhood.
This morning, they were in a different vehicle further down the road.
The results are unclear whether Colleen has been the real superspy among us all along.
I PAUSED MY rewatch of Napoleon Dynamite as soon as the sound of an engine accompanied the crunch of gravel in our driveway. Colt had scarcely stepped inside before I cornered him. Or as much as a fake-pregnant woman could corner a man a foot taller than her, anyway.
“I want to call a truce.”
Colt moved to step around me. “A truce? You want to call a truce ?”
I moved with him, blocking his escape. “Why is that so surprising?”
“Maybe because I had to rearrange my shirts in the closet last night after you decided to ‘ reorganize’? Or because all the cups were flipped upside down this morning—which is unsanitary, by the way? Or perhaps it’s because all the shoelaces of every pair of shoes I own were switched, but only the left ones? Who does that?”
I didn’t bother trying to hide my grin. Was it petty?
Probably. But extreme circumstances called for extreme measures, and the deep-seated uneasiness I felt since confiding in him and then being ignored qualified as an extreme circumstance in my book.
“You’ve gone out of your way to avoid me.
How else was I supposed to get your attention? ”
He graced me with a glorious eye roll and another futile attempt to skirt around me. “Maybe talking to me like an adult? What are you, seven years old?”
“I can’t talk to you if you’re not around. And don’t bother pretending that wasn’t your whole intention behind this.”
A sly smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You haven’t found the coffeemaker yet, huh?”
I crossed my arms with a huff. “It’s only a matter of time before I do, and you know it. But that’s not why I want a truce.”
“Oh?” Apparently resigned to the fact I wasn’t letting him pass so easily, he set his briefcase down and went to work loosening his tie.
My throat felt like cotton with the motion, the reminder of interrupting his workout flashing unbidden to my mind. With a shake of my head, I shook the thought away with it and cleared the cotton out of my throat. And maybe forced myself to look away, too. So sue me.
“I’m not used to being so idle, okay? You have a job, but aside from the few classes I teach a week, I don’t have anything to keep me distracted until lunch on Saturday.
” I flung my hands up in frustration. “Like it or not, you’re the only one I can talk to without going over to Colleen and Joseph’s place.
And I don’t think I can take one more question about how pregnancy has affected our relationship.
” I gave him a pointed look. “Our physical relationship.”
His lips twitched with an impending smile, which he hid by clearing his throat. “I see your dilemma.”
“Yeah, and you avoiding me last night and all of today isn’t helping.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you.” He ignored my snort of disbelief, sliding his tie free of its knot entirely. “Regardless, I can’t deny, I’m curious to hear what this truce would entail.”
Okay, yeah, I wasn’t proud of myself for caving on this so-called war we were waging, but when the only retaliation he’d done was to exist while I was putting time and effort into rearranging cups, the appeal kinda wore off. Even if it was fun to mess with him.
“Well, first off, I promise not to switch your shoelaces or pointlessly rearrange the cups or your shirts. In exchange, I want to be” —I wrinkled my nose, almost choking on the word— “ friends .”
He barked a laugh. “Friends? You’re funny, Lex.”
“Thank you.” I ignored his sarcasm. “And yes, friends. It’ll make the next two months more bearable, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s been incredibly bearable so far.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Considering one of us is wearing a fake stomach, I’d choose my next words carefully if I were you. Especially if you value your clothes iron.”
He sobered, returning the glare. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I think we both know I would.”
I wouldn’t ruin it. I wasn’t that bad of a person. But if it happened to end up somewhere in the house where he couldn’t find it, let’s just say I wouldn’t shed any tears.
Consider it collateral for the coffeemaker.
“Fine.” His scowl deepened. “What exactly does being friends entail?”
I cocked my head to the side. “Have you never had any friends before?”
This earned me an aggravated sigh. “Of course I have friends. I just don’t trust you and your definition of the word.”
I sidestepped, stopping his latest attempt to escape. “It means we talk to each other—really talk, not just argue—and do stuff together. And ” —I smiled slyly— “I get to help you with the ladies.”
His brows skyrocketed. “That is a horrible idea on so many levels.”
“Not while we’re undercover, obviously . But for when the assignment is done.”
He eyed me warily. “And why would you do that, exactly?”
I ticked the reasons off on my fingers. “One, because I think having a special someone in your life could really teach you to lighten up and actually have fun every once in a while. Two, you want a family. It’s bad enough you’re stuck having to pretend to have your dream realized only for it to be with your arch nemesis.
” I should know, since I’d had very similar feelings while putting on the ring I still wore.
“It’s the least I can do for being the one you’re fake-married to.
If I can help you get a real girlfriend after this, your chances of getting that family you want significantly increase. ”
He pursed his lips in thought, mulling over my argument. “And is there a third reason?”
“Technically there are two more, but they’re not as pressing.” When his expression didn’t budge, I relented. “Okay, third, because it’ll make you easier to live with. And fourth, because I’m bored out of my mind. Happy?”
“Ah, those reasons make sense for you.” He slid his tie off, lining it up to fold it neatly in half. “For your information, as much as I appreciate your—quite frankly— concerning offer, I don’t need any help with the ladies.”
A snort escaped before I could stop it. “You sure about that? Whenever you aren’t at the field office, you’re ironing your shirts and organizing your shoe closet. I’m not sure you even know what flirting is .”
He paused, his body going eerily still until the hair on my arms stood on end. When he finally relaxed, the corners of his mouth lifted in a new smile. Part scheming, part victorious, part something else—and completely unnerving.
“You’re saying I don’t know how to flirt because I’m too regimented?” He didn’t wait for a reply before tossing his tie off to the side.
Oh, crap. That couldn’t be a good sign. He never threw anything on the floor voluntarily, least of all his clothes.
He advanced slowly, like a panther stalking its prey, his eyes locked on mine and filled with a fire I’d never seen before.
I stepped backward with each step he took forward, tipping my chin up in defiance despite my retreat.
“Too exacting?” he continued, his voice low.
My back pressed against the wall before I even noticed he’d shifted our trajectory. He stopped entirely too close to me, sending my heart ricocheting around my ribcage as he leaned his outstretched arm oh-so-casually against the wall.
There were still a good eight inches between us, and yet it felt like being this close to him had sucked the air out of the room.
The weight of his undivided attention could create its own gravity.
Pull me into its orbit. I felt small and vast at the same time, like one world in a galaxy of others—but the only one he cared to devote time to studying.
He fingered one of my loose curls with his free hand, watching it stretch and bounce back as he released it. “Have you ever thought that it might be a strength to be so thorough? To take my time to know someone perfectly—inside and out? To memorize every inch of them? Worship every inch of them?”
My brain stopped working. My lungs, too. All that reverberated through my head was a low whoosh like the distant roar of a waterfall.
He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper and his breath feathering against my face.
“Have you considered it might be a strength to be so restrained? So disciplined? So” —his murmur became a purr that made liquid fire pool in my core— “ methodical ? Or how that could benefit my partner when so many others would lose control?”
The roar in my head crescendoed until everything but Colt faded into the background. My fingertips pressed into the wall to keep the forbidden fantasies dancing at the edge of my mind at bay.
His whisper tickled the shell of my ear and sent a shudder through me. “Have you considered” —he inhaled deeply and paused, body going tense and rigid once more— “that I don’t want your help?”
Before I could even process what he’d said, he backed off and walked away like nothing happened. He retrieved his tie, his voice cocky as he called over his shoulder. “I don’t need flirting lessons, Lex.”
I stared, dumbfounded into silence. My knees threatened to turn to jelly and buckle under me.
What the freak just happened?