Page 49 of Real Fake Husband

His assistant transfers my call.

It rings exactly three times before it’s answered.

20

CAL

“Mr. Ashford,” Andrew Osborn says in his raspy, booming voice. “I was wondering when I’d be hearing from you.”

“Hello, Mr. Osborn,” I greet him. “Thank you for taking the time to speak to me. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Straight to the point. Tell me—to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“I wanted to let you know that my dealership is in the final stages of completion and I would like to extend a dinner invitation to you and your wife. That way we can sit down face to face and discuss a couple of ideas I have.”

“Wonderful! I heard through the grapevine you fired William Hunt. I was surprised to hear that, considering how late in the project you are. It’s my understanding that he does good work.”

“He does, but I decided to bring in a new contractor who better suits my needs.”

Osborn tsked, understanding that I wasn’t going to dog the man. “Such a shame and good to know. Now, back to your lovely invitation. We’d very much like to accept.”

“Great. Two days from now, let’s say seven o’clock. I’ll send you the details.”

“Perfect. Charlotte and I will be there. I cannot wait to meet your new bride. We’ll see you then, Ashford.”

I don’t even get a chance to tell him Josie won’t be there before he hangs up.

Shit.

Josie isnotgoing to like this.

Oh, well. She can deal. It’s one dinner.

Iget home sometime in the early afternoon. In a rare instance, Josie is home before me. I’m not expecting this, considering how many hours she’s been working. I’m guessing Matilda sent her home since she came in early. I notice her stuff when I walk through the door, putting my boots to the side. I’m not sleeping on that damn couch.

When I enter the living room, there are two things I notice right away.

One, her bra is sitting on the arm of the couch.

And two, her sketchbook is lying next to it.

I hear the sound of the bathtub filling, and I realize that in her rush to take her evening soak, she forgot her bra. Either that, or she didn’t expect me home anytime soon. Or she left it there on purpose.

Either way, I see a kiss in my very near future.

Can’t fucking wait.

I will preface this next sentence by saying that I am not snooping. I’m simply tidying up the living room after her, again—except for the bra, of course, because: evidence—when I realize the sketchbook is partially open. The page I see makes me stop in my tracks.

Grabbing the book, I open it all the way to find anincrediblydetailed drawing of me. Specifically, my naked body.

Like, fully naked.

Dick and all.

On the paper, I’m lying in bed, so she must have drawn it at some point during the night. Oh, this is too fucking good! Is this why she didn’t want to show me her work? Goody-goody Nosy Josie isn’t as prudish as I thought she was. But she’s way,waynosier than I expected.

She has a lot of talent.

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