Ember #3
He leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands, staring at the chair where Darby had sat to eat dinner. “If it isn’t you, it’ll be someone else. My grandma won’t give up. And I guarantee they won’t be offering me three hundred and fifty grand to tie the knot.”
His words shouldn’t have made my stomach twist, shouldn’t have sent heat searing up the back of my throat, but they did. It was our agreement. The words written in black and white in our contract. So why did it feel so bad to hear it coming from his lips?
Was I expecting him to like me? To, what? Fall in love with me? That was the opposite of what I wanted!
“You want me to keep my distance from her?” I asked, then nodded. “That’s fine. I’m not motherly, anyway, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
“You can still cook for us,” he hurried to add, then grinned at the flat look I gave him. He laughed, shrugging. “Hey, dinner was really good. Beats the frozen pizzas we usually eat at least four times a week.”
“That’s a pretty low bar,” I noted. He laughed harder, which confused me as much as it sent a pleasant kind of warmth soaking through my belly.
Before I did something so rash as laugh along with him, I added, “I’ll keep my distance from her.
I’ll only be here as long as it takes to file the certificate, anyway.
After that, there’s no reason for me to stay. ”
A frown was there and gone. He nodded. “Right.”
“You don’t agree?”
“My grandma might have questions.”
“She might have a whole lot of questions when we file for divorce, but it’s still going to happen.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but a buzz interrupted him. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen—and then frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“My brother Bennett messaged.”
“Is everything okay?”
“We’ve been having some instances of vandalism lately. Apparently another one of our cameras got smashed.”
“Is property damage common here?”
He shook his head. “No.” It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he was distracted by another message landing on his phone. His fingers flew over the screen, and his brows jumped.
Curiosity bit me. “What is it?” I asked.
“Doris called half the town after we left the medical center,” Jack replied. “It was very romantic of you to throw yourself in the way of danger to save me from falling flat on my face, apparently.” The smile he gave me was sharp. “Good work, wifey.”
“No,” I immediately replied. “We’re not doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“You’re not calling me wifey.”
“Darling? Sweetheart? Honey bunch?”
“I’ll stab you with my dirty fork right in the middle of that raccoon bite if you don’t stop.”
Jack leaned back in his chair, his grin spreading.
His body seemed to take up so much space at the table, his blue eyes glittering with interest. I wanted to look away from him, to stop myself from being ensnared by the magnetic charisma that seemed to tug at my gut every time we made eye contact, but I had the irrational, ridiculous fear that if I looked away, I would break something between us.
Why didn’t I want to break anything between us?
“I like it when you get violent with me, Ember. Your eyes get all glittery and mean.”
“Right in the middle of the raccoon bite,” I warned, lifting the fork another inch.
His smile widened, and a pulsing started between my legs. Oh, no.
“Regardless of your murderous desires,” he said, picking his wine glass up and watching me as he took a sip, “this is good news. It means we can keep riding this momentum and continue with our plan. We’ll go buy some wedding rings tomorrow morning, and I’ll show you around town.”
JACK
It had been a day I would never forget. Ember’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she watched me from across the kitchen table, and I wondered when I’d last felt so alive.
Once I’d spoken to Darby and smoothed things over, my panic had eased and I’d been able to think about what had really happened today.
Ember, terrified of a rabid raccoon, had gone out with nothing but a broomstick to defend herself so she could get a first-aid kit to patch me up.
She’d taken care of Darby. She’d insisted on coming with us to get treatment.
She’d thrown herself in the way when I’d passed out after the shot, then quietly cleaned the kitchen and cooked so we could all have a meal together.
She’d spoken to Darby like a real person—no baby talk, no placating, nothing remotely fake.
A remarkable woman. Unlike anyone I’d ever met.
She was prickly, closed off, and difficult.
She was brave, beautiful, and stubborn in the best way.
And she was only here to fulfill the conditions of a dead man’s will. She’d be gone within a couple of months.
I wasn’t worried about getting attached—that wasn’t a problem I’d ever had. Women were fun, but they weren’t part of my life in a meaningful way.
Ember was enticing, and our relationship had a built-in end date. It should’ve been the perfect setup for a bit of fun and an easy goodbye.
So why did my gut twist uncomfortably when I thought about our eventual divorce?