Page 32 of Fluke
Please play along, Jess.
“Jess,” I say, smacking his forearm. “You signed the divorce papers. You know you can’t call meDream Girlanymore.”
My stomach flutters at the sweet and slightly silly term of endearment.
“We might be divorced,” he says, lowering his lips to my ear. There’s a slight apprehension in his tone that I pick up. Hopefully, Chuck doesn’t. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not my dream girl.”
Kerissa’s jaw drops, and hearts fill her eyes like she’s in aLooney Tunescartoon.
The heat of his breath skirting across my neck makes me gasp. I buckle against him, my body moving against his just enough that he can’t miss it.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispers just loud enough for me to hear.
I exhale, the air shaky and filled with the swell of desire triggered by his mouth's closeness to my body.Did he say that to me—for me? Or is this a part of the role he’s playing?
I’m not sure I care. I eat it up all the same.
This is precisely why Jess has always been kept at arm’s length. My physical reaction to him with slight brushings of our arms or bumping into each other in a crowd is bad enough.But to have him touch me? Hold me? Whisper sweet nothings into my ear?
I may never recover from this.Ever.
As much as I don’t want to—as much as it’s the last damn thing I want to do—I lift Jess’s arm off my stomach and step away from him. Despite the heat of the Florida night, my body chills without his against mine. The pull I fight to reattach to him is maddening.
So I grab my margarita and take another swallow.
Chuck runs a finger along his bottom lip.
Right. Chuck’s here.
I clear my throat. Fire from the tequila fills my mouth. Images of me blowing a blast of flames at Chuck’s head makes me giggle. I realize I didn’t need that last drink. Kerissa must realize that, too, because she discreetly slides the glass toward her and out of my reach.
“Chuck,” I say, smiling broadly. “This is my ex-husband, Jess. Jess, this is Chuck. We work together.”
Jess extends a hand, side-eyeing me with amusement. Chuck shakes it with a heavy dose of suspicion.
“You two get along very well,” Chuck says, baiting Jess to say something he can latch on to. To prove his theory.
“Not every marriage has to end badly,” I say. “Sometimes, instead of having problems for years on end, couples decide to go their separate ways so they can have a peaceful life.”
He knows what I’m getting at—that his marriage could be a talking point if he doesn’t stop.
Jess slides a hand into his front pocket and smirks down at me. “I have loved this woman my entire life. I’m not about to stop now.”
Kill. Me. Now.
Jess Carmichael has nevernotbeen hot. I’ve seen him in a wrestling singlet, covered in drywall dust, with bedhead, and morning hair. Not from my bed in the morning, unfortunately, but bedhead, nonetheless.
And in every single instance,he’s delicious.
But in this casually confident pose, with his hat on backward and professing his fake love for me in front of my asshole nemesis—the man has never looked this good.
He licks his lips, watching me for a reaction. I can’t react the way I want to because that will get me arrested. Indecent exposure is a real thing.
“Our two years of marriage are something I’ll always remember,” I say, looking up at him and batting my lashes.
He grins. “They were the best two years of my life.”
“Well, I was a pretty great wife.”
