Page 72 of Real Fake Husband

Her cheeks turn bright red. “Theo’s number?”

“Yup.”

“As in the gorgeous guy who hangs out with your hubby?”

I nod. “Yup, that’s the one. Apparently, he’s got a little crush on you. Cal told him he’d pass his number along.”

“No way.” Kaylin’s cheeks somehow grow even redder. “Oh, my gosh,” she says, staring at her phone with wide eyes. “Oh, mygosh.”

It’s so cute to watch her go from disbelieving to excited.

“A little crush on me? Are you sure that’s what he said?”

“Very sure. That’s what my hubby”—dammit—“I mean Cal, said he said.”

26

JOSIE

I’m back at the apartment. A nervous thrill races up my spine. Geez, I’m nervous about seeing him. I’m nervous abouttalkingto him.

I’m not expecting Cal to be here.

It’s around noon, and he’s almost always out having lunch with the guys or handling things at the dealership. I toe out of my sneakers and place them neatly next to his boots (which are not in the way).

But wait, if his boots are here, that means he is, too.

Quickly, I peek around the apartment. He’s not in the kitchen or living room.

“Cal?” I call out.

No answer.

Remembering how exhausted he looked earlier and that he spent the night on that couch, I figure he’s probably taking a nap to catch up on sleep. I put my bag in the living room and look around for my laptop. Since I’m home early and no talk is happening—thank you, heaven—I want to take the time to go through my old ArtGal site and start cleaning it up for a relaunch.

My laptop is probably in the bedroom, where I had tucked it away before the dinner the night before. Crap. I walk quietly toward the room. I’m assuming he’s sleeping, and I don’t want to wake him.

I’m just being considerate, okay?

It’s not until I’m right outside the door that I hear rustling. The door itself isn’t closed all the way. Inside, it sounds like the bed sheets are moving, and I can hear labored breathing.

Okay, now I’m nosy. Perfectly nosy.

Is he changing the sheets? They aren’t even dirty! His cleaning mania sure knows no bounds.

Without a second thought, I put my hand on the door and push it open.

I’m greeted by the hottest sight in the world. A sea of tattoos.

He isnotchanging sheets.

Cal is lying in the middle of the bed, fully naked with the blanket pooled around his waist. His firm hand is wrapped around his cock, and he’s stroking himself roughly, his chest heaving as he pants.

My brain short-circuits.

Holy shit.

Holyshit.

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