Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

E mmerleigh

Flipping down the visor in Warrick's ridiculous truck, I tried to clean up the mess he'd made of my lip gloss. I was foolish to believe anyone would be looking at the slight smear of sparkly pink when my cheeks were beacons the color of Blueball's fire engines. I couldn't help it. I was overwhelmed and out of control, a feeling I loathed more than anything else. The dress was so beautiful I nearly cried when I slipped it on. The ring weighed down my finger with its perfection. The kiss had struck some nerve deep within my core and felt anything but innocent. Even Warrick manhandling me out of the courthouse and into his giant truck had me grasping for some sense of sanity. The man had twenty hands and they were all on me.

And I wasn't turned off by those hands like I should be. That was the most dangerous part of all.

Warrick slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, reaching to turn up the fan on the air-conditioning. Good. That should help my cheeks. Perhaps I was just overheated, a lie I grabbed on to with both hands. I could feel him gazing at me. Could still feel the imprint of his lips and the way his fingers had tightened on me mid-kiss like he knew I was going to dart away from him the first chance I got.

I snapped the visor back up and folded my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking. "Well, I should get back to the jobsite."

"Hey."

The quiet rasp had me finally turning to look at him. Warrick. My husband.

His handsome face was marked by kind eyes. His entire presence, the broad shoulders, the trim waist, the expensive suit with tattoos peeking out from behind the cuffs, even the goddamn boots, were overwhelming in the small space of the truck. He sucked the oxygen right out of my lungs simply by looking at me.

"Let's go back to your place and get the last of your belongings. That way it'll be done when we pick up Georgia this afternoon."

We. When we pick up Georgia.

Something acutely painful hit my chest. How long had I begged for a man in my life to use those words? To know I had a partner? Someone I could rely on? And here he was in the flesh, a stubborn, annoying, rich client who dirtied his expensive jeans like money was no object. He hadn't even married me for real, and yet he was the most supportive man I'd ever had in my life.

What a fucked-up, pathetic situation my life had become.

I nodded, because what choice did I have? Warrick would do what Warrick wanted to do. That's what all men did. So for today, I'd let him. I wouldn't even put up a fight. I'd use this man like other men had used me. While he drove us out of downtown Blueball, I tried not to let a cloak of shame settle on my shoulders. Fact was, I was better than Cayden. I couldn't use Warrick like that, but I would let him help me for Georgia's sake. And I'd work like a madwoman to get his mother's house finished for him. That way, we'd be even. Or as even as this single mama could make things .

Warrick didn't allow me out of the truck while he loaded up the last of the boxes. He took off his suit jacket and left it folded on the console between us, taking a moment to roll up his sleeves before he climbed out into the midday heat. I looked away when I realized even his forearms were attractive. After he was done and looking a bit sweaty, he took the keys from me and left them on the kitchen counter, texting my landlord that we were out. Then he headed back to his mother's house without a word.

A disagreeable grunt had me freezing with my hands on the door of the truck. I rolled my eyes, but Warrick ignored me. He came around the truck and opened my door, his arm hooking around my waist and pulling me from the vehicle like it was effortless. Pip, sitting on the front porch eating another tuna fish sandwich and swigging a German beer, let out a whistle.

"That is one way to deal with your life mess. I like my way better."

"Don't start," I grumbled, walking up the stairs carefully in my heels. Warrick's warm hand hadn't left the small of my back.

Pip held up her beer, a raspy chuckle coming from her wide face. "Ya make a fine bride, Ms. Em!"

"Mrs. Wolfe," Warrick growled before I could explain the situation to my subcontractor. I glared over my shoulder at him, but he just pushed me closer to the front door. "You have the rest of the afternoon off, Pip."

Pip hooted. I dug in my heels, but Warrick was stronger, shoving me in the house and shutting the door with a slam. All those feelings of being off-kilter burned to the ground as anger swept in. I folded my arms across my chest and whirled around.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Dick? That's my employee and I say we keep working."

Warrick folded his own arms across his chest and I tried not to acknowledge the vision he created so easily. The man was built, I'd give him that. He also had access to the finest clothes money could buy, but it was more about the swagger that underlined all those superficial characteristics. The man was a vision in a white button-down shirt, tan forearms on display, long legs in dress pants, and a face settled into a smirk that both turned me on and pissed me off. I'd always preferred a blue-collar man, but Warrick had awakened a new kind of preference.

"It's our wedding day."

"Fake," I interrupted.

His smirk only grew. "Not fake. The marriage license is very real."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Not fake. But temporary. And for business purposes only."

He shrugged as if those details were inconsequential. "Do you have plans to get married at some point in your life? After this business deal of ours is over?"

I didn't understand why he wanted to know, but I also knew I preferred to tell the truth. "No. Georgia is my number one priority. Always."

His arms dropped and he took a step toward me. "Then I'll say it again. This is your wedding day. And while certain traditions won't be honored…" His eyes sparkled with a heat that had my insides twisting again. "I want my wife to remember this day fondly. Especially since you don't plan to have another wedding day."

Before I could swallow down the want that had sprung up out of nowhere—okay, it wasn't nowhere…I'd been fighting it ever since the first day I'd met this man—he walked right past me and disappeared down the hallway.

I let out a long whoosh of air, realizing I hadn't been breathing full inhales since before we left to go to the courthouse. My shoulders sagged without the ever-present stare from Warrick. Even my feet barked at me that they were done. I shifted and sank onto the couch in the corner of the room, leaning down to take off my heels. Tossing them aside, I wiggled my toes back to life and tried to remember what I needed to do on the house this afternoon. Now that Pip wasn't here, thanks to Warrick, I'd have to tackle the floor staining on my own.

"It's all ready for you."

My head snapped up to see Warrick poking his head around the corner, still in his dress shirt.

"What?"

He sighed as if he was disappointed in me and fully appeared, leaning against the wall. "You think I haven't noticed how sore you've been every morning, trying to get this house done on time? You rub your shoulder when you're thinking. You wince when you squat down."

"I—"

He lifted an eyebrow, daring me to argue. I snapped my mouth shut. I was sore. Ridiculously sore all over, but the job had to be completed. I'd rest later.

"I've got the bath filled, Epsom salts added. Come on."

My jaw dropped. Warrick groaned and marched over. "Jesus Christ. Don't tell me no one has ever drawn you a simple bath." He reached down and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. "Your ex was a dickhead."

I definitely wouldn't argue about that.

Warrick didn't let go of my hand until we were standing together in the bathroom he hadn't hired me to remodel. A white porcelain clawfoot tub, full of bubbles and steaming water, greeted me. A white fluffy towel lay folded on the edge of the pedestal sink. It was too much. All of this was too much.

"I'll let you get settled. Towel's there. I'll get clothes for you." I felt Warrick leave, taking his heat and intoxicating scent with him.

I spun around. "I don't?—"

"Emmerleigh?" he interrupted, not turning around, but freezing there in the doorway. His spine practically crackled with irritation. "Get in the fucking tub."

I glared at his back. "I was just going to say I don't know where to hang up my dress." I absolutely was not going to say that, but I wouldn't give him the pleasure of knowing I was about to argue.

He turned around at that, his wary eyes telling me he didn't buy my lie. Not one bit. "Leave it on the floor. I'll hang it up. All your things are in the guest bedroom, along with Georgia's."

I fiddled with the new ring on my finger, wanting it off. His gaze dropped to the ring. "And you can keep that on."

I huffed, tugging it off. "Not in the water. I don't want it to tarnish."

He lunged, quicker than a cat, stilling my hands and shoving the ring back on my finger. "It won't tarnish, Em."

My heart swelled and sank at the same time. "I assume this is fake…right?"

"Sure it is." The smirk was back.

I narrowed my eyes, ready to blast him for being an absolute idiot for giving his temporary wife a real diamond and gold ring, but he stepped back and pulled the door closed with a soft click. I shook my head, trying to wrap my brain around everything that had happened today. Looking at myself in the mirror, I made a face. What the hell was I doing in a wedding dress? I reached behind me and slid down the short zipper and let the material fall to my bare feet. Maybe getting the thing off would help my nerves settle down. Yes, I got married. No, it wasn't for anything other than a strategy to keep my daughter. Didn't matter that Warrick seemed to be kinder than any human I'd ever met…or richer. Or more handsome.

With a frustrated growl, I turned away from the mirror and stepped into the bath. I couldn't help the moan that came out of my mouth as the warm water enveloped all my aching muscles. I tossed my long hair over the back of the tub and rested my skull against the porcelain. The bubbles tickled my chest, the heat from the water below causing every square inch of skin to pucker into goose bumps.

It didn't take long for my thoughts to slow down. Or my breathing to return to normal. My muscles unwound and my stress melted away. A bubble bath might not be actual magic, but it was close. I couldn't remember the last time I'd taken a bath. Not since Georgia was born. I swore that the next house I lived in, I'd make time for a bath, even if only once a year.

The door creaked and my eyelids flew open. My arms went to cover various parts of me, making water slosh everywhere. Warrick stood there with a stack of clothing.

"Get out!"

"Relax. I just brought clothes to change into. Unless you want to wear your wedding dress all day? Ahh, that's really sweet, wife."

If I'd had something to throw, it would have already hit him in the head.

He chuckled and the rich sound of it grated on my nerves. "I can't see anything through those bubbles anyway."

I shook my head, furious at the oaf whom I was now legally bound to. I also felt my nipples bead into tight peaks beneath my arm. My body was a traitor, clearly not understanding that the gorgeous man in the room wasn't actually my husband. I mean, he was, but absolutely none of that kind of thing would be happening today or any day.

"Just get out, Dick," I sighed.

The fucker winked at me, not in any hurry to leave. I wondered just how long the bubbles would stay intact.

"Will do, but don't stay too long. We have to pick Georgia up in an hour and then I'm taking us all out to dinner to celebrate."

Why did he never pose any of his ideas as a question? Always commands and orders with this guy. Then again, my experience with men told me they all did it.

"You're quite bossy, did you know that?" I snarled.

"I know. But why argue when the end result is so good? You're enjoying that bath, right? Pretty sure I heard a groan."

I glared at him. "You little pervert. Got your ear to the door? "

He chuckled. "No, sweetheart, you were just that loud. Are you always…that loud?"

His innuendo was clear.

"Get. The fuck. Out."

"Yes, ma'am." And then he was gone, leaving me hotter than the bathwater.

Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing I enjoyed the bath, I made myself get out and towel off. Which pissed me off. I would have liked to stay in there the full hour until we had to leave. Instead, I picked up the clothes he'd left for me.

"What the hell?" I whispered to myself. I didn't recognize the shirt or the shorts. Or the undergarments. The shirt itself was made of some kind of expensive silk with lace at the shoulder caps. It was beautiful and simple all at the same time. Something I'd love to wear.

But not mine.

Where had he gotten these clothes? I slipped into the bra, rolling my eyes when the material felt like it was spun from angel dust. The damn thing fit perfectly too, gently cupping my breasts and somehow lifting them into something more than they actually were. The panties were no different. No scratchy bargain lace here. The back side was missing material, however, leaving my cheeks bare when I normally went for grannie panties I didn't have to dig out of my crack every two seconds on the job. The jean shorts fit perfectly as well, but I didn't recognize the brand.

I looked up, seeing my reflection in the mirror. The pale yellow of the blouse made my blue eyes look brighter and deeper. I looked like me, but different. Older. Prettier. More relaxed. For a second, I admired myself, letting my brain spin out of control and wonder what it would be like to actually be married to Warrick. Not for business reasons. Not temporarily. Would he lavish me with outfits all the time? Would he buy me more jewelry? Cars? Vacations ?

The very thought of it was so enticing and so foreign, I made myself turn away from the mirror with a grunt of disgust.

Warrick could do whatever he wanted with his money, but I had to keep my wits about me. This was temporary. He didn't have feelings for me, and no matter how hot I thought he was, there was no future for us. The lure of riches held no sway with me. Men had betrayed me over and over. It was only a matter of time before Warrick did too. Better to focus on Georgia and stand on my own two feet. That way no man could ever sweep the rug out from under me again.

Boundaries fully intact, I left the bathroom and all those juvenile dreams behind me.