Page 15 of Love You Truly

And now this dude who’s puffing his chest out like a territorial rooster.

Or at least he was.

The word fiancé has shut him up and turned his swagger into a series of stammered syllables. He finally decides to slug down the rest of his drink in response.

“Really.” Sarcasm drips from his tongue like maple syrup drowning a pancake in its god-awful sweetness. “You expect me to buy that? I saw you two hours ago, and you didn’t mention it.”

It shouldn’t make my pulse tick up a notch when he refers to seeing her earlier. I shouldn’t feel possessive enough to run my hand up her back. She stiffens at first, but when she relents, I run my fingers through her hair and feel her shiver beneath my hand.

“Yes. It’s been a whirlwind. I’ve been…distracted.” Mallory’s eyes heat and linger on me. It leaves no question about exactly how I’ve been distracting her, and it makes my dick twitch in my pants at the things I could do to distract her for real.

This is a woman I spent the better part of my teen years fantasizing about, after all. Now, up close and personal, she’s every bit as fierce and lovely as I imagined.

And also possibly delusional.

“Bullshit,” he says, finally, his shocked expression morphing into a fake smile.

“Hey.” Instinct takes over and I get in the guy’s face. I don’t like how he’s talking to Mallory, even if I’m still doing a double take after her pronouncement that we’re…engaged? “Watch your language.”

The guy casts me an annoyed glance and returns his glare to Mallory. “I’d have heard about it if you had a boyfriend.”

“Really? Do you have little minions reporting back on everything I do? Because that borders on creepy stalking.”

I could insert myself more into the middle of this, but something tells me I’ll learn more and get farther if I observe. Mallory grits her teeth and balls her fists at her sides, but she seems like she can hold her own. For now.

“Face it, Mal. I’m not the outsider I was when we met. I know a lot of people in this town. People who are very aware of our history.” He looks at me when he says it, maybe hoping for a reaction. I give him nothing.

Mallory shrugs.

“People talk is all I’m saying, and no one’s said anything about you and a new boyfriend, let alone a fiancé.”

“Maybe because they have better things to do than blab about me to my ex-husband.”

Instead of a snappy retort, the reference to him as an ex seems to shut him up. He clears his throat and looks around the room as though something or someone will give him an excuse to linger.

And now I have my explanation for why he feels like he has any right to talk to her the way he is—not that it excuses his rudeness.

The pieces click into place, and I realize why I’m the sudden object of Mallory’s affection. This is a revenge play, plain and simple. Or at least a fuck-you sendoff. Well, I can get on board with some good, clean sayonara fun.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to enjoy my time with my fiancé,” Mallory says, emphasizing the word. “Gosh, I’m still getting used to calling you that, but I do love it.” She locks eyes with me, and there’s a pleading in them and also an intensity that mesmerizes me. For a second, I allow myself to believe it has nothing to do with her ex.

Her look makes me sweat with discomfort and charges my veins with a fire I’ve never experienced.

“Better get used to fiancée, because soon I’ll be calling you my wife.” Nothing wrong with adding a little fuel to this blaze she’s started.

I watch her ex swallow down his irritation. It seems to stick in his throat, and he coughs and turns away.

Hearing myself say the word wife should send a petrified chill down my spine, but, shockingly, it doesn’t. I even like it a little bit, which I attribute to how much I already hate her ex, if surface impressions are any measure.

Mallory’s eyes widen, but she quickly schools her expression, and the broad, fake smile returns to her face. I wonder how her ex doesn’t recognize it when he’s obviously spent a lot more time with her than I have, but some guys just aren’t that observant. He seems ruffled by her whole act.

I wrap my palm around her waist, enjoying the feel of her warm skin where her yellow shirt rides up an inch. I rub my thumb over the bare skin and feel her shudder under my touch. Her body melts just a little bit into my hand, and I pull her closer.

Meeting Mallory’s eyes, which seem to blaze with desire, I hope mine convey the exact same thing—game on.

If she’s going to drag me into whatever charade this is in front of her ex, I am one hundred percent in, but I’m going to give just as good as I get.

“I-I guess that will take some getting used to as well.” She recovers enough of her composure to nail me with her full smile—plush, ruby lips, straight white teeth—and I nearly lose my mind.

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