Page 53 of Wed to You

But it wasn’t. She needed to remember that. She looked away, pulling her senses together and pushing her emotions down. This was all a ruse. Every act of affection and word of endearment from Jagger was part of the plan to make everyone think they were in love. She needed to do better guarding against the warm feelings his actions evoked.

Two days before the wedding, Jagger worked alone in Chelsea’s dining room, helping her pack up the house. He put the pictures of Chelsea’s mother and brother from the hutch into a box. She hadn’t asked him to pack the pictures, but he thought she’d probably want them. He wanted to make her as comfortable and happy in his home as he could. The problem was, he wasn’t sure he could. Over the course of their short engagement, when they were alone, they got along fine.

But ever since the day she signed the prenup, she appeared uncomfortable by his displays of affection. It was as if she’d built a wall and wanted to keep him out. The frustrating part was that as much as she shied away from his touch, he still desired to keep touching her. That made no sense. He wasn’t the type of man to be attracted to what he couldn’t have. Although it didn’t happen very often, the few times a woman hadn’t shown interest, he let it go. Being with a woman was much better when she was into him too.

When she wasn’t flinching from him, she was witty and real. Around her, he could be himself. He didn’t feel the need to be guarded or wary. When the thought of losing Kaden overwhelmed him, she was always able to calm him. So why was she so skittish?

He blew out a breath to push the irritation away. Despite her reaction to him, she was moving forward with the plan. They were nearly finished packing up the things she wanted to bring with her and preparing her home to be closed for a while. All the furniture was covered with sheets, except the kitchen and dining area. She was upstairs packing her clothes while he worked in the dining room. The table and hutch remained uncovered until the last minute. Because they were nearly finished, he’d ordered pizza to be delivered, hoping she’d enjoy a final meal in her home until she returned at the end of this marriage scheme.

The pizza would be there in thirty minutes, so he packed up the last items in the dining room area. He was working on the hutch, filled with china and figurines. He wasn’t an expert, but the items looked old and he suspected they’d been in her family for generations, just as the house had. A stack of papers and a scrapbook sat on the counter of the hutch. He rifled through the papers, realizing they were her bills. He felt guilty looking at them. People’s finances were extremely personal. But his part of the deal was to pay them. As he studied each, he realized that the deal only paid off her mortgages and student loans. These statements included bills for medical care and credit cards. He looked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t watching, then he put the remaining bills under his coat, which was lying on a nearby chair. He’d move them to his coat pocket when he left. Then he readjusted the stack of papers on the hutch.

Next to the papers sat a scrapbook. He opened it to determine if it was something he could pack up too. Instead of family pictures as he expected, he saw magazine cut-outs of furniture and decorative items, paint chips, and drawings of rooms. He studied the pages and realized they were the rooms in her home and the book contained her ideas for how to fix up the place. Chelsea’s home had good bones and great potential, but he suspected the house needed much more than floor refinishing and a paint job. Some of the lights in the house flickered, suggesting it could use new wiring. The moaning in the walls when the water was running indicated the home could probably use new plumbing. Living only on a teacher’s salary, even without debt, it would probably be a challenge to fix it all. He put the book in the box with the photos and made plans to talk to Denny, the foreman at the farm, about hiring a reliable contractor. The house was going to be empty, making it the perfect time to deal with some of these projects.

The stairs squeaked, letting him know Chelsea was coming. She hefted a large suitcase that looked older than his father. He rushed toward her. “Let me help you.”

“Thanks.”

He lifted the case and nearly toppled over. “What do you have in here? Rocks?”

She laughed and he took it in; she didn’t laugh very often. “Close. It’s books.” Her smile stayed on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and once again he could feel her hesitate.

He set the suitcase by the door and turned to her, setting his hands on his waist. “Are you going to be okay with this?”

Her brows drew together. “Great day, Jagger, are you annoying. You’ve asked that a million times and I’ve told you yes.”

He nodded. “Your mouth says yes, but everything else about you says no.”

She turned away, heading to the kitchen. “What I say is what matters.”

“The hell it does.” He reached out, wanting to stop her so they could talk.

She worked her arm free from his hand, and stepped back, confirmation that while she said yes to this arrangement, everything else about her was saying no to him.

“I’m sorry.” He held his arms up in surrender. “In order for this to work, people need to believe we’re in love.”

“I know.”

“Every time I touch you, you pull away. Granted, it might be my arrogance talking here, because I’ve usually had pretty good luck with women, but your reaction to me is a real ego killer. It’s almost like I repulse you, which makes me feel like I’m forcing myself on you each time I touch you.”

Her eyes widened and then she scoffed. “I’m not repulsed by you, Jagger.” She turned away again and continued to the kitchen.

“Then what is it? Because I’m pretty good at reading women, and your reaction says you don’t like me.”

“I like you fine.”

“You always pull away when I touch you.”

She waved his comment away over her shoulder. “It’s just weird because it’s not like that between us.”

Jagger let out a curse under his breath. The truth was, usually there was a moment when he first touched or kissed her, that he thought she liked it.

“I promised I wouldn’t touch you when we’re alone and I won’t. But I have to touch you in public if people are going to think we’re really in love. It would help if you didn’t act like I was a grotesque troll.”

She turned to him with a slight shake of her head and roll of her eyes that made him feel even more pathetic than he already did. “You’re not a grotesque troll. You know you’re God’s gift to women.”

“You’re a woman and you don’t think so.”

There was a flash of heat in her eyes one instant, and then the next, she had her fingers through his hair and her lips were searing his. His arms wrapped around her as the momentum of her crashing into him knocked him back. Once her taste penetrated his lips, he wasn’t steadying her, he was holding her to him in a desperate attempt to keep her from getting away.

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