Page 7 of His Fake Wife

I could only nod and give him a tight smile. If I opened my mouth to say another word, I’d dissolve into tears. My sister, Melissa was eighteen and on her way to college. There was no way I could break it to her that there was no money for her education. Plus, I had to find a way to keep a roof over our heads. As I walked out of dad’s office, feet dragging and shoulders drooped, the only solution I could think of was finding a job. Pronto. “Umph.”

“Oops, sorry, Beth.”

Melissa righted herself with a small grin. I was bigger than her, so our collision didn’t rattle me as much. Wiping away any despair that might still be on my face, I asked, “What’s the rush?” It was incredible that she had any energy left since she’d been up and down with me all day.

“You have a visitor.”

I wasn’t in the mood to entertain more guests. “Another one? Mr. Ford just left.”

“Yeah, he was going down as I was heading up.”

“Who is it?” I asked, annoyed.

Melissa’s lips pursed and her light brown eyes widened. “Uh...why don’t you go and see for yourself?”

“Mel,” I growled, now suspicious. “Just tell me who it is.”

“Adam...Thorne.”

Oh. It was no secret to Melissa how much I despised that man. She always found my disdain for him amusing. Even after eight years away, I still carried a load of resentment for him. “What does he want?” I groaned.

She shrugged slender shoulders. “He didn’t say. He just asked to see you.” An impish grin lifted her lips. I was glad to see it because I knew she took Dad’s death hard. “I know we’re going through serious shit right now but can I just say that Adam is way hot?”

“Ugh. Typical teenager,” I rolled my eyes. “He’s not.”

“Whatever. I don’t know what your problem with him is. He’s always been nice to me.”

“He’s an asshole,” I grumbled already on my way downstairs. Footsteps padded on the carpet behind me when I came to a halt and spun around. Melissa had almost collided with me again. “I’m going to see what he wants. Alone.”

“Come on, Beth. I’m sure he’s just here to give his condolences. I deserve to receive it as much as you do...and to get a look at that perfectly chiseled face.”

“Mel,” I laughed. “Get your hormones under wraps. I’ll call you down if that’s all he’s here for, okay?”

“Fine,” she huffed and stomped in the direction of her room.

Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t help smiling. My sister wasn’t wrong. As much as I didn’t like Adam, there was no denying that he was a fine male specimen. Too good-looking for his own good. Maybe that’s why he was such an ass. Men who thought they were God’s gift to women usually were. The closer I got to the sitting room, my smile dropped. I couldn’t have Adam thinking my smile was for him.

The room was empty. Hopefully, he left, so I wouldn’t have to deal with him when I was so exhausted. Movement caught my eyes and I reluctantly walked to the ajar door in the foyer. There I found Adam, pacing on the porch. He had his back turned so I admired his broad shoulders before he turned around. When he did, I almost took a step back.

I wasn’t expecting his stare to be so intense. His slashing silver eyes had always been enthralling. There was a time when I thought that it was his eyes that casted a spell on women, making them fawn over him. It could be his perfect chiseled face as Mel said. His dark blonde hair was disheveled as if he ran his fingers through it many times. After my initial subtle appraisal of Adam, my brows dipped to mimic his expression.

“Did you come here to scowl at me?”

His expression softened a bit and he let out a breath. “That’s my greeting after eight years? Let me start over. Beth, hi. It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough if you ask me.” Being rude seemed to come naturally when I was anywhere near Adam. Gazing up at him conjured the memory of the incident. I was still bitter about that God-forsaken kiss we shared and the things he’d said after.

His lips lifted slightly but his expression remained tight. “Same old Beth, I thought you’d mellow out after a few years.”

“What are you doing here?” I crossed my arms defensively around my middle ready for battle.

“I heard about your father. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” I began to shuffle from one foot to the other because I had no idea what to do or say when Adam was being nice. Since we were kids, over a minute spent in each other’s company resulted in a verbal war. My presence just seems to get him riled up just as much as he puts me on edge. I took comfort in seeing that he was just as uncomfortable as I was.

“Is that it?”

“How I wish,” he breathed. He held up his hand and offered me an envelope. “This is for you, from your father.”

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