Page 30 of Real Fake Husband

Goddammit.

“Who the hell is that?” I grumble, ready to get up. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”

“Oh, that’s for me,” she says cheerfully.

She jumps up and answers the door, and I hear her speaking with someone and signing for a delivery. Frowning, I follow her down the hall, and she turns to me with two large plastic bags.

“What’s all this?” I ask.

“I had some store credit saved from the bedding store,” she says, carrying the bags into the living room. “I got some pillows, cushions, and sheets for that old couch. I swear I just sat on a spring a second ago.”

Ah. That’s why she was leaning in close. So much for throwing her over my shoulder and making her see fucking stars. Glad I didn’t make a move. That would have been one for the books.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble just to sleep on the couch,” I tell her. “If you really wanted all this, I could’ve gotten it for you.”

She quirks a brow. “Who says this is for me?”

“We’ve been over this, Josie. I can barely fit.”

She tosses the bags onto the floor and holds her fist out over her palm. “Best two out of three for the bed,” she challenges.

Okay, she’s not tipsy, but the beer and food have definitely put her in a good enough mood to not be so tense. I can’t help but laugh. “Do you seriously want to do rock, paper, scissors?”

“Yup.” She’s clearly amused.

“I’m not playing you for the couch.” I lean against the wall, crossing my arms.

“Scared?” she challenges again, tilting her head to the side with a cute little smirk.

Game on. This should be fun.

Snorting, I copy her stance. “Fine, I’ll do it. But don’t complain to me when you lose.” It’s not possible she’s going to win. Rock, paper, scissors, yeah, it’s my superpower. I’m good at this game, always have been, starting at school. For whatever reason, I can predict the next move—in other words: I never lose.

There’s a playful fire in her eyes that I enjoy. We count to three, and I throw down scissors while she does paper.

“One point for me.” I grin.

Josie waves me off. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Sure.”

We do it again, and this time, she throws rock while I throw scissors. It’s her turn to grin. “One for me.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, hush.”

I know what’s going to happen right before it does. Josie throws down rock, thinking I’d do scissors again. But I do paper instead. Covering her hand with mine, I declare, “I win.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“Guess you’re on the couch.”

“Fair is fair.” With a yawn, she stretches, and I watch the way her body moves—her tits, those damn pebbly nipples—thinking of our closeness on the couch a moment earlier. “Well, glad I got this stuff then.”

“It’s up to you,” I offer. “I think we did pretty good sharing last night.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls the cushions out of the bag. “I’m good.”

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