Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Abby

Rafe: Make sure to wear your wedding ring. My business partner knows we’re together.

Me: Knows what, exactly?

Rafe: That we’re married, but not about the agreement.

Me: What about me working for you?

Rafe: I told him, but try to impress him when you get here since I should’ve talked with him first.

Me: Who’s your partner?

Rafe: Mark Shelton.

Me: West’s childhood friend?

Rafe: Mine, too. So, do you have the ring?

Me: Yes. I just finished my visit with Amber, and I’m heading over. Talk to you soon.

T he weight of the ring on my finger felt ten times heavier than it actually was. This would be my first time acting as Rafe’s wife in public, and I only vaguely remembered West and Mark hanging out in high school, when I’d still been a kid.

Which meant this would be our first real test. Because if we couldn’t convince Mark we were a real thing, then we had no hope in hell of convincing our families.

I finally reached the end of the long driveway to the old Santos place and nearly did a double take. When I’d gotten my pony as a kid, the sprawling complex had mostly been open and fenced, with horses grazing everywhere. The main building had been a small barn, with a house not far away.

But now? The barn had been expanded and modernized. It still had the feel of the former place, but was freshly painted—brick red with white trim—and had glass entry doors, updated windows, and a new roof. It looked like a modern-take on what a barn should look like.

There was also a paved parking lot, and I could see some nearly completed sports fields. There were probably more I couldn’t see since the property sprawled for acres and acres. However, the soccer field was closest, and I could make out a baseball one in the distance, too.

I pulled into a parking spot, exited my car, and took a deep breath. Time to play the part of Rafe’s wife.

After entering the glass doors, my jaw dropped at the reception area. It had been painted and filled with furniture, but it was the pictures on the walls that caught my attention. There were old Starry Hills High and Starry Hills Middle School team photos, some newspaper ones from championships, and even one of Rafe mid-kick in his Manchester Dragons FC uniform. Also, there was one of Mark Shelton in his college uniform, from when his football team had gone to the college playoffs.

Rafe’s voice echoed in the large space. “What do you think of the reception area?”

Tearing my eyes from the walls, I turned to find Rafe and Mark standing nearby.

Mark was older than I remembered, but he had the same black, curly hair, dark brown skin, and dark brown eyes. He flashed a smile—the one that had dazzled my friends and me when we’d been younger—and I smiled back at him.

Show time. I walked over to the pair. “It’s amazing! The school photos will make kids feel more at ease, and including your picture and Mark’s, show what you can accomplish. It’s perfect.”

Maybe I imagined it, but I swore Rafe stood a little taller. “That was my goal. There are better players than me, of course. But since they’ll see me and Mark, I put us on the wall.”

Mark snorted. “If I hadn’t blown my knee, I would’ve been far better than you, Rafe.” He put out his hand. “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m Mark Shelton.”

I shook his hand. “I do. You and West used to play baseball together.”

As soon as I said it, I mentally cursed. Bringing up West probably wasn’t the best thing in the world.

Mark nodded. “Yeah, but that was a long time ago.” Rafe gave him a look, and Mark cleared his throat. “Nice to see you again, Abby. We’ll talk more later, for sure. I want to hear all about your plans for the tutoring center.”

“I want to apologize for Rafe offering me the job without talking to you first. But I promise, I have tons of ideas and want to make it work.”

Mark nodded. “I can’t wait to hear your plans. We can talk a little after the tour.”

He waved and headed into the bowels of the building. As soon as we were alone, I said to Rafe, “You’ve done more than I’d expected, given how you only returned to Starry Hills late last year.”

“I did a lot of research while abroad and was ready to hit the ground running.” He gestured to the door. “Ready for the tour?”

He put out his hand, and I debated taking it. We were alone, which meant we didn’t have to play the part.

But I couldn’t resist placing mine in his. He squeezed, and a little thrill shot through me. I liked how his hand made mine look small, how it was so much warmer than mine, and how I could feel his wedding ring against my fingers.

Mine.

Wait, no. Not mine.

Thankfully, Rafe tugged me along and started his tour, telling me about the indoor training rooms, the locker rooms, and the theater-like room to watch replays of other players. I loved watching his eyes light up as he talked, banishing the grumpy, scowling man from my family dinners.

It reminded me a little of how he’d been when his parents had still been alive.

Eventually he stopped in front of a set of doors with the words, “Tutoring Center” painted on them. He released my hand and said, “Close your eyes, Abby.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I thought you said it was still under construction, which means I’ll probably trip and fall on my face.”

“I’ll make sure you won’t, I promise.” He gestured at my face. “Close your eyes. Please.”

My first instinct was to say no and charge into the room. Rafe hadn’t really done anything to prove he was trustworthy yet.

However, at the pleading look in his gaze, I acknowledged that I was married to this man, would be for a year, and I should at least give him a chance.

I closed my eyes. A second passed and another before I felt Rafe’s heat behind me. Then his breath danced against my ear as he whispered, “Walk until I say stop.”

His hands came to my shoulders, and a jolt of heat spread throughout me. Combined with his breath still on my ear, I wanted to lean back against him, feel his hard body against mine, and ask for his hand to travel down, down, down until he reached my clit and made me scream.

Thankfully, his voice broke my mini-sex fantasy. “Walk, Abigail. I’ve got you.”

He pushed gently against my shoulders, and I followed his guidance. He steered me left and then right, and eventually he said, “Stop and open your eyes.”

I did and stared right at a plaque on the door that said, “Abigail Wolfe, Tutoring Director.”

It was a simple brass plaque with my name, and yet my throat tightened at the sight. “I thought I’d never teach again.”

“Well, you’re going to kick some ass here, Abigail. It won’t be long before I’ll be fighting off head hunters.”

I laughed. “You’re rather optimistic.”

“No, you worked bloody hard to become a teacher, to fulfill your dream from childhood, and that tells me how much you care about educating others.”

He was right—I’d wanted to be a teacher since I was about five years old. “You remember that?”

His hands gently squeezed my shoulders. “You tried to make me and West your pupils that one time, when we were trying to dig a swimming hole in one of the fields.”

“I forgot about that! How you ever thought a giant hole in the middle of a field—one with cows in it who could fall into the hole before it ever filled with water—would be a good idea, I never understood. It was stupid.”

He chuckled, the sound almost rusty. How often did Rafael Mendoza laugh?

Before I could think too hard on it, he replied, “You told us it was dumb back then, and said we should play school with you. Then we’d know better for the next time. You even got us to sit down for about ten minutes, somehow. Even as a little kid, you were stubborn.”

My lips twitched. “That is kind of the Wolfe family motto—stubborn bastards till the end.”

Rafe laughed. “Fits.”

After turning around, I raised an eyebrow. “Pot meet kettle.”

“All right, all right. Yes, I’m a stubborn bastard. You have to be to make it as far as I did. But when it comes to this tutoring center, I bow down to your expertise.”

I glanced at the plaque again and then back at my husband. “Not Abigail Mendoza?”

“If you want, I can change it.” He lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered, “But you’re already doing me a huge favor and I didn’t want to take your name from you without asking first.”

My throat tightened with emotion. Would any of the guys I’d dated before think to ask me about such a huge change?

No , rang through my head.

How was Rafe still single?

I would find out, whatever it took. There had to be a reason he’d acted the playboy so long. And yes, I did think at some point it had become acting. Because this sweet man would’ve yearned for more than just endless, meaningless sex.

Wouldn’t he have?

Not wanting to think about his parade of women before me, I turned back to the door and stared at my name. Abigail Wolfe had gone through so much, nearly hit rock bottom, and had struggled to think of what to do with her future.

But now, I could do some good here. The passion to teach stirred to life inside me. More than that, I wanted to be a version of myself I actually liked. Not one who moped and hid and scrambled to deal with her past mistakes.

A new name would make it easier to try and be that version of me.

“I think I’ll be Abigail Mendoza, if that’s all right with you.”

His hands went to my waist and squeezed. My eyes shot to his, and something stirred in Rafe’s gaze, something I couldn’t name.

His voice was low as he said, “I like it. A lot. Mrs. Mendoza.”

As a little girl, I’d created Barbie weddings with me and Rafe. But it’d been a child’s fantasy of platonic kisses and setting up house and us moving around the world as Rafe played soccer.

But as an adult? Hearing Rafe call me Mrs. Mendoza sent a shiver down my spine, in a good way. “Well then, Mr. Mendoza, are you going to show me around my office now?”

And maybe we could celebrate my new job with me sitting on a desk while you kneel before me, spreading my legs, and then…

Interrupting my dirty thoughts, Rafe guided me into the room. It was empty of furniture, and I tried not to be disappointed.

Not that Rafe would go down on me at any point in our marriage. However, it still felt like my fantasy would always be for that to happen.

He said, “I didn’t want to decorate it for whoever took the position since I don’t know what the hell you’ll need. But you can decorate it however you want. Even if you want to hang up ‘I heart Rafe’ posters, I’ll make sure they’re made.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ego, much?”

“I was voted the best striker in the world one year.”

“Were you? Hmm. I must’ve missed that.”

I hadn’t, but it was entirely too much fun to tease Rafe.

He said, “It’s easy to tell when you’re lying, Abigail. You knew. You followed my career.”

“Maybe for a while. But eventually, I got too busy.”

I waited to see if he’d call me out again because I had followed him up until he’d retired. Even when he’d hurt my best friend, I hadn’t been able to completely forget about Rafe. At first, right after his parents died, I kept looking to see if he was sad or hurting or miserable. But trying to gauge emotions through a screen, while he played an intense game, hadn’t worked.

His breath danced across my ear again. “I’ll make sure you get a packet with all the necessary information about me and my career. Because the students will ask about it, and you should know.”

“Wait, I have to take a Rafe Mendoza 101 class now?”

He chuckled, and the sound made me want to lean back against him and feel the vibrations of his chest.

Woah. Get a grip, Abby.

He said, “Something like that. Although you’ll have to create an Abby Wolfe Mendoza 101 class for me, too. I need to know as much as possible about my wife.”

His hand moved from my shoulders, down my sides, and settled on my waist. For a second, I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d pull me against him.

But after a few beats, he dropped his hands and stepped away. His voice sounded rough as he said, “I have some work to do. But look around and let me know what you need.”

With that, he left. As soon as the door clicked closed, I let out a breath and rubbed my hands over my face. Being alone with Rafe had already become dangerous, and I’d only agreed to stay married to him yesterday.

Dropping my hands, I glanced around the room. Once we figured out the basics of how we’d act as a couple, this place would become my focus, my distraction.

Because Rafe would never really be mine, and becoming a workaholic would distract me from wishing he could be.