Page 70 of Married to the Frenemy

As far as I’m concerned, our agreement remains in place. We’ve just added sex as a benefit of our fake marriage.

“So you didn’t have sex?” Squinting, she focuses on my neck. “Because that sure as hell looks like some beard burn. And are those bite marks?”

I smooth my hair in front of my shoulder, having forgotten about the marks Beckham left behind last night.

“We did,” I finally admit.

“I knew it!” She reaches for her phone and feverishly types at the screen.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Jude to tell him he owes me a case of beer for winning our bet.” After she shoves her cell back into her purse, she places her forearms on the table, her attention fully on me. “So tell me. How was it?”

“It was some top-notch sex, Parker,” I gush. “He’d put some of those two-schlonged aliens in Grandma Estelle’s monster romances to shame. And Beckham’s only working with the one dick. But the way he works that dick…” My face heats, the reminder causing hunger to build inside me.

Then again, it could be because we were interrupted this morning mere seconds before I was about to come.

At least I have something to look forward to tonight.

Before, I often dreaded night time. It was always the most awkward part of the day.

Not anymore.

“How did this all happen? Was the sexual tension too much for either of you to handle any longer?”

“No. I mean, it has been building. But that’s not what happened.” I lean toward her, dropping my voice. “I saw Oliver yesterday.”

Her eyes widen. “What? When? Where?”

“At the brewery. We took Maggie to celebrate Grady agreeing to sell Beckham the vineyard.”

“He did?” She perks up at the news. “That’s incredible.”

“At one point, I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. When I turned the corner into the back hallway, I ran into someone.” I give her a knowing look. “It was Oliver.”

“What’s he doing in Sycamore Falls?” She inhales a sharp breath. “Do you think he tracked you down?”

Pinching my lips, I shake my head. “I doubt it. He made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby. Still, I wanted to get Maggie out of there. I’m not ready for her to learn the truth. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”

Parker reaches across the table and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “She’s better off without that prick.” She holds my gaze for a beat, then pulls back. “What happened next?”

I tell her how Beckham didn’t hesitate in getting both of us out of there. How he forced me to take some time for myself. Then how he cooked dinner and even read to Maggie.

“I don’t know what came over me, Parker. But when I was watching him with Maggie, especially as he read to her, it was too much.”

“Pretty sure every woman’s ovaries would explode at the sight of Beckham Lawrence snuggling with a little girl.”

“And boy, did they explode.”

She twirls a strand of blonde hair around her finger. “What does this mean for the two of you going forward?”

I bring my iced coffee up to my mouth and take a long sip from the straw. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeats, arching a brow.

“We agreed that, all things considered, it’s best that we don’t put unreasonable expectations on ourselves or each other. There’s just a lot of…baggage to sort through when it comes to us.”

“Like what?”

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