Page 22 of His Fake Wife

I was still recovering from lunch with my parents when I stepped into my home office and saw Beth. I stopped at the door and had time to take her in before she saw me. She was bent at the bookshelf, focused on whatever she was reading. It was hard to ignore how great her ass looked in her fitted jeans. She froze when she spotted me.

And cue the awkwardness.

“Adam, what are you doing here?”

My brows shot up. “My house. My office.”

Her face flushed. “I mean, I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.” Her eyes darted around the room. “I’m sorry for coming in here without permission. I was passing and the door was open. I was tempted by your collection.” She held up a leather-bound book.

“Of course, you were. You’re the same Beth who squealed with delight when my mother gave you a copy of Jane Eyer for your twelfth birthday. You were such a weird kid,” I laughed.

“Shut up.” She said but smiled back. It could have been my imagination but I felt the uneasiness go down a notch. “I’ve always had an appreciation for literature. So do you it seems. I’m surprised.”

“I’m not the total idiot you think I am.”

“I’ve never called you an idiot.”

“Mmmm...I’m pretty sure you have plenty of times over the years.”

“Well, I apologize. You probably want your privacy. I’ll go.” She turned to replace the book.

“Keep it. Feel free to come in and take any book you wish.”

“Thanks.”

I stepped further into the office, cautiously. She looked like she was ready to bolt. “And feel free to stay.” She froze again, rounded eyes on me. “It’s been days. Surely we can talk to each other now.”

She rubbed her arm and shifted from one foot to the other. Beth in jeans and a tank top was doing too much to my libido. It was ridiculous. She was bare feet and her bright pink toenails curled into the rug. “You weren’t interested in talking before. What’s changed?”

“I had lunch with my parents,” I sighed. Her blank stare made me sigh again. “I’ll tell you about it over a drink. But, since you’re not big on alcohol, you can watch me drink.”

Beth pursed her lips, eyed the decanters of brown juice I had lined up on a table, and chuckled. “You might have a problem.”

“Not yet. Give a few more years when the pressures of life really hit.”

“You never take anything seriously.”

“It’s a defense mechanism just as your sarcasm is yours.”

“How do you know?”

“Like I said, I’m not a complete idiot.” I gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat.”

Still clutching the book, she sat. “I guess I can have one drink. Someone told me I need to lighten up.”

“Smart someone.”

“Not that smart.”

She rolled her eyes and I grinned.

I sat right beside her and handed her a glass. She eyed me with suspicion for a moment before asking. “What in the world happened at lunch with your parents?”

“It wasn’t just today. It’s been my entire life. They’re fucking miserable, Beth.”

Her mouth fell open. “Your parents seem fine. They always have.”

“Because they’re experts at putting on a show.”

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