Page 7 of Fake Married to the Grumps

“Hey,” I snap two fingers at him to get his attention. “I haven’t agreed to marry you yet, remember?”

Ethan smiles. “Of course. The ball is always in your court, ma Cherie,” he whispers before shrugging out of his leather jacket. I take in his full looks then. The stylish cut of his black hair and the wideness of his broad shoulders in his black t-shirt.

He’s wearing a pair of Air Jordans that matches his shirt, and his jeans are ripped a bit at the knees. Ethan’s classic bad-boy look isn’t as appealing to me as his corporate outfits.

The man makes me melt in a suit.

He has a tall frame for it, and those muscles ripple whenever he takes off his jacket.

I swallow hard. “Why are you here?”

“To convince you to help me,” he answers with ease. “It’s a win-win situation, Nelly. Scratch my back and I scratch yours.”

I groan and roll my eyes. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

He walks over to me, slides a hand over my arm, pulls me to him, and nearly presses me into his chest.

I gasp at the unexpected move. My wide eyes fly to his, and my lips part in a gasp. His scent fills my nostrils. It’s a rich, earthy scent, and it reminds me of oak.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I manage, ignoring the rush of adrenaline pumping through me. I don’t bother to hide my sarcasm. “Think you can charm me into being your wife?”

Ethan’s laugh toys with my senses, and he surprises me when he turns serious a moment later. “No, Nelly. I’m here to help.”

He takes his hands off my arm and moves away. I can finally draw in a deep, easy breath, but I can’t let him notice the effect he has on me, so I turn away quickly and march toward my living room.

My television is off, and I can’t remember the last time I watched anything on it. I spend most of my time cuddled up under a blanket with work files, documents, and a glass of my favorite smoothie.

I like to stay in charge, and I need to work to know what goes down in every aspect of the company. Right now, it feels like I’m losing my grip. If I don’t do something, then it’s not just what my parents have worked for that’s at stake.

It’s jobsand families that depend on those jobs to survive.I don’t think I can handle the layoffs and the heartbreak it’ll cause to all those people.

Ethan’s quiet as he lowers himself to the couch and crosses his legs in front of him. “You got anything to drink? A can of cola or lemonade?”

I snatch the pillow cushioned under his arm and smack him in the face with it. “I’m not running a grocery store.”

“Relax,” he says with a laugh, and I notice the gleam in his eyes as his chuckle sends a tickle right through me. I haven’t heard that sound in years, and I didn’t realize I missed it until now.

I lower myself to the couch beside him and stare at the array of papers scattered across the table. There’s an empty box of pizza on the ground from my dinner last night, and the empty tea cup from my chamomile sits next to it.

The dull ache in the side of my head reminds me that I haven’t taken a break all morning. Ethan’s scent now tantalizes my senses, reminding me of why I enjoyed leaning close to him in the past.

A mixture of vanilla and oak.The blend is intoxicating, and it makes me dizzy for a bit.

“Any luck?” Ethan asks, and I turn to him, shocked that he cares about me finding another means to save my company. “With finding a bank willing to loan you enough money? Or any other solution?”

“Do you really care?” I question, gauging his expression as I try to figure out what he’s thinking. Ethan’s eyes are on mine, and he doesn’t avert his gaze even as the tension in the air around us rises.

“Of course I care, Nelly,” he finally answers, and the ease with which his words fill the room makes me gasp. “Your parents were like family to me, too. I care about what happens to their legacy.”

My throat tightens as the hint of emotions in his eyes brews over. “I know you don’t want to be indebted to me, but we can help each other, Nelly. I won’t have to lose my place in my company, and you get to save yours with ease.”

I lean into him even though my brain screams for me to put enough distance between us. “I can’t just marry you, Ethan. I can’t just marry someone I don’t love.” The whisper of my words makes him withdraw.

A shadow falls across Ethan’s face. His jaw hardens, and he pulls away from me and gets on his feet.

“So, you’d pass off an opportunity to save your parent’s company because you’re waiting for what? Love?”

“Ethan, come on. Don’t make it sound ridiculous.” I stand and tuck some strands of my hair behind my ears, then cross my arms over my chest. “Everyone wants to fall in love at some point, right?”

---