Page 49 of Dirty Rotten Cheating Husband

“I may have been corresponding to more than one woman in jail.”

“How many women?” I asked.

“Oh, not more than seven, probably. Definitely more than two, though.”

“Now, look what you’ve done,” I told Grayson. “Your bad example has rubbed off on my impressionable father.”

My tone was teasing, but a muscle still throbbed painfully in his jaw. “Never. . .again,” he said, and I could tell he was struggling to control his voice. “I swear.”

The sincerity in his voice pulled at me. But I thought he was sincere before.

Grayson put a plate of steak and eggs in front of me, then went back to what he had been working on, bending over a bunch of wires that were running to a big screen he had set up on my kitchen shelves.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he said.

I ignored the way his broad shoulders barely fit in the space between the table and the shelves as a zing of lust shot through my body, sizzling down between my thighs.

The memory of his kiss tightened my nipples against my T-shirt and I hastily crossed my arms over my chest to make sure he didn’t see.

“I know you don’t trust me, Clementine,” Grayson said, and I pressed my thighs together to try to stop the way my pussy throbbed.

It was his voice. Gravelly and deep, making my insides liquify.

“I wonder if it was the fact that you were lying to me and cheating on me?” I mused. “Or the fact that you were only pretending to love me.”

“I did love you and I do love you. So much, Clementine.”

Dad slurped his coffee loudly.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” he objected. “I heard about your mistresses. Back in my day, if a man had a mistress, he shouted it from the rooftops. Not went skulking about with one.”

“I don’t—I was a bastard, but she was not my mistress! Clementine is the only woman I’ve ever wanted to marry and share a life with.”

“What is this?” I interrupted when the screen lit up. I didn’t want to think about what Grayson was begging me to give him. And certainly not with my dad smirking at me over his coffee cup.

“It’s my phone,” Grayson said. “My only phone. It’s right here so you can see every single text I get, every single email I get. I’m not hiding anything from you anymore. I want you to trust me, Clementine.”

“This looks exactly like something a cheater would do,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “Probably keeping your Snapchat account in a secret folder.”

“My what?” Grayson asked.

“Never mind, grandpa.”

“My text messages are going to show up here all day long,” he said. “Feel free to scroll through my phone. Check every text I get. You are going to see every single text I get. I want to be an open book for you.”

Later that day, my dad was still sitting at the table and staring at the screen. Even though we had been in and out with errands for the play, even taking Dennis with us to help as a reward for how angelic he’d been behaving, Dad had stayed glued to his chair, calling it “appointment viewing entertainment.”

“If I wasn’t so entangled, I’d ask for a few of these numbers,” my dad said. “Since you claim you aren’t using them.”

“No,” Grayson said. “I am blocking every single number after I send the same message. And that message is I am not interested in anyone but Clementine Adler.”

He looked over at me, but my eyes dropped to my plate.

I knew what his message said. I’d seen him type it out over and over this afternoon as I sewed last-minute alterations on a few costumes and he worked on his laptop at the kitchen table.

I am not interested

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