Page 62 of Easton

“Repair guy?” I questioned, ’cause I had no idea one was even coming. “Is there something wrong with the pool?”

“Yeah,” Easton replied. “I guess I forgot to tell you. The pump in the infinity pool isn’t working right. We need to have it looked at. I called the shop the other day and made the appointment. I’m sorry. I really thought I had mentioned it.”

“I guess we’ve had a lot on our minds lately,” I said, waiting for his reaction.

He glanced at me, but then he looked away. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Ugh, I hate this.

“It’s okay,” I assured him, getting back to the pool issue. “I’ll be here. I’ll let the guy in and stick around till you’re home.”

“Great.”

He showed me a picture of the repair man and told me the company informs you via text so you don’t let in the wrong person. I think that’s a good idea, seeing as you can never be too careful nowadays.

I didn’t say anything when I saw the photo, but I was immediately struck by how freaking hot the guy is. He’s young and has blond hair and surfer-dude good looks.

I was sure to play it cool and nonchalant, but in my head, I was coming up with a plan, a plan I’m about to implement today. Because today is pool repair day, and Easton is at practice.

Yeah, it’s time to make a bold move to see just how much my fake husband cares about me. And I mean in a romantic way.I’m tired of wondering and guessing. This could go on forever if someone doesn’t do something.

So, I’m on it.

I check the time and discover it’s almost ten.

Great.

I’m pretty much ready to go downstairs and put my plan into motion. But before I do, I take one final look in the full-length mirror in my bedroom.

My chestnut locks are tumbling down my back in soft curls, and I have my cutest sunglasses perched up on my head. I put on some liner and mascara earlier to enhance my eyes, but the coup de grâce is what I’m wearing.

Or rather how little I have on.

Yep, I’m in a skimpy siren-red bikini. My breasts are practically spilling over the top, and the bottoms leave little to the imagination, as they expose quite a bit of my ass cheeks.

Ahhh, I have to chuckle.

This poor pool guy is not going to know what hit him.

And neither will Easton when he gets home.

This is going to be epic.

Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

One of us needs to make a bold move to elicit a reaction. If Easton comes home and doesn’t care that I’m outside flirting with the pool guy in a barely there bikini, then I’ll finally know for sure that he truly only sees me as a friend.

But if he gets jealous, well, then all bets are off. Maybe we can finally move forward and end this farce.

I smile at the thought, but then I’m startled as the doorbell rings.

Oh my God!

Hot pool guy is here.

“Showtime,” I murmur as I run out of my room and race down the stairs.

When I pop open the front door, there stands Mr. Hot Surfer Dude.

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