Page 44 of Play the Game

I feel myself wanting to smile, which is annoying.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, following after her as she drags the tripod up the stairs. “And where are we going?”

I grab the equipment from her, and surprisingly, she lets me carry it. It’s probably due to her being in a tight wedding dress that likely doesn’t allow much movement, but for the first time since meeting her, she isn’t drowning me with her independence.

“We’re going to your bedroom.”

My lip turns up in the corner. “Wow, already? I thought you’d at least hold out for our one-week anniversary.”

Scottie stops right in front of me, and next thing I know, I take an elbow to the ribs.

“Ow, fuck. I was kidding.” I rub the spot she hit and continue to follow her to my room.

“It wasn’t funny,” she says, as deadpan as ever.

“But asking you if you’ve been previously married is?”

Scottie tries to take the tripod from my hands, but I pull it back. I cock an eyebrow, and she sighs.

“No,” she answers. “I’ve never been married. I don’t have time to date, let alone find a man willing to marry a poor stripper with enough childhood trauma to weigh down a semi.”

Scottie slams her lips together and quickly averts her gaze. I get the feeling she didn’t mean to say the second part of that sentence. Before I can comment on it, she snatches the tripod out of my hand, and I watch in silence as she sets it up again and tests the lighting.

“Okay, it’s ready. We don’t have long before the lighting disappears, so come on.” My bride wafts her hand at me, and out of spite, I move extra slow. Her hands fall to her hips when she pouts, and I stare at the finger that should be wearing a ring.

“So did you pawn the ring or...”

Fire burns in her pretty blue eyes. She scoffs and stomps off in her bare feet, only to return a few seconds later with the ring dangling off her pinky. She messes with the camera again and then rushes over to the spot near the window.

“Come stand right here.” She gestures beside her.

I stride across my carpeted floor and adjust the navy suit that was lying on the bed when I got out of the shower. I stand inches away and look down at her all dolled up.

She’s gorgeous. All glowy and shit. If this weren’t a fake marriage, I’d tell her so, but I don’t owe her compliments. I owe her a paycheck.

That’s all.

“I want you to put the ring on my finger slowly and look down at me the entire time you’re doing it.”

My shoulders tense. “Alright.”

Scottie places her warm hand in mine, and I hold it gently.

“Okay, go,” she whispers, taking a step closer.

My heart rams behind my ribs, and it’s the only thing I hear in between the shutters of the camera taking numerous photos of me slowly slipping the diamond ring on her slender finger.

A rough swallow works its way down my throat.

This feels…intimate.

Scottie rushes off and checks the camera. Her face lights up with excitement, and then she comes back over to me, sending her soft scent in my direction.

“Now I want you to stand behind me and wrap your hands around my waist.”

Ah, shit.

I’m uneasy, and my shoulders lock when she puts herself to my front and backs up so we’re flush.

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