Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set)

That stung, too. “I’d notice,” I ground out. “I notice every fucking thing about you. That’s the problem.” I turned away, hating that I was letting sexual frustration get to me.

She laughed derisively. “You fooled me. I’ve never felt more alone than when I’m with you.”

I turned to her, hating how much I was hurting her. “I’m sorry about that, Brooke. Really, I am.” I leaned in, wanting to make sure Frank wouldn’t hear. “I have to put space between us, especially after what happened.”

She rolled her eyes. “Space I understand,” she said in her regular voice. “But completely ignoring me is cruel, even for you. It was just sex, Mo.”

Holy hell. I glanced behind me to make sure Frank didn’t hear that. “Keep your voice down. Your father is in the other room!”

Knowing she’d continue to talk about what happened, I took her arm and led her out of the kitchen down the hall opposite the bedrooms and into Frank’s study. I didn’t need him to overhear this.

She jerked her arm back. “I’m not a child to be scolded, Mo!”

“Then stop being so petulant.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, I thought she might hate me. “How dare you! You’re the one acting immature. You’re the one who can’t control your dick. And, like a man, instead of being responsible for it, you blame me.”

No, I didn’t. Did I?

“You’re the one that needs to get your shit together, not me.” Her eyes blazed with heat.

She was right. The problem was, I didn’t know how to do that. The more I tried to do the right thing, the more wrong it seemed to turn out. But to follow my impulse, my heart, that seemed wrong, too. I was well and truly fucked.

16

Brooke

If I was a violent woman, I’d have slapped him for calling me petulant. Of course, it would have proven his point. But he had some nerve suggesting I was the one being immature. I was of the opinion that I was the only grown-up in this situation. He was the one acting like a teenage boy, a slave to his dick, and then blaming me for it.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m an asshole. But we don’t want your father to hear this conversation.”

“You.” I jammed my forefinger into his chest. “You don’t want him to hear it.”

I had no clue what my father would think. I suppose it would be weird for him to think about Mo touching me. I also believed my father wanted me to be happy. Of course, I wasn’t happy, but I could be if Mo got out of his own fucking way. He let out a frustrated groan.

“Me? I’ve tried to be a good daughter. A good wife. A good worker. And for what? To be treated like a child? To be told that my feelings don’t matter.”

“They do matter—”

“No, they don’t. Be a good girl, Brooke, and marry my friend to save my farm. Be a good girl, Brooke, and stay away from me because I want to fuck my friend’s daughter, and I’m too old for her. I did that, and I’m miserable, Mo.”

His eyes softened, turned regretful. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I hate that I hurt you. I should have never touched you. It was wrong for so many reasons—”

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sp; “You see. There you go again. Touching me didn’t hurt me. Rejecting me because you think I’m too young or because you’re friends with my father, that’s what hurts.”

“I’m sorry.”

I scoffed. “Yes, I can see that.” I shook my head. “You don’t see me.”

“You’re right in front of me.”

“You see a young girl. You see Frank’s daughter. You don’t see me.” I pressed both my hands to my chest. “Me!”

His brows knitted together, indicating he had no clue what I was saying. I wasn’t sure what I was saying, either. It seemed to me that if he could see Brooke, and just Brooke, without the age and my father, he’d see how much I cared for him. Maybe he’d find that I was the one he was looking for. But with the filter of age and his friendship with my father skewing the view, he couldn’t see that, even if his heart, or maybe it was just his dick, could.

“I see a smart, beautiful woman.”