Description
A perfect example of an innocent bet turning ugly.
An almost innocent bet.
My best friend challenged me to fake marry her (very hot) brother.
The same brother who picked on me throughout high school.
I didn’t see any harm in playing along.
Not like I’d actually fall for the enemy, right?
So there I was…
Playing the role of Ryder’s fake wife.
Desperately trying to draw the line between fake and real.
While his tempting muscles stared me right in the face.
While his fingers raked over my curves.
Ruining any attempt to not fall in love.
What the heck had I signed up for?
Was the bet even worth the fake marriage?
Especially if I ended up with a real baby?
Prologue
Trina
I’ve gone mad. That was the only way to explain my current predicament. Up until a few days ago, I’d been a sane, reasonable person who did everything according to plan. Somehow, I’d gone completely off my rocker and was now in bed in Ryder Simms’ house. Not in his bed, but still, in a bed in his house instead of my own bed in my own apartment. The only explanation was that I’d gone nuts. Around the bend. Coocoo for cocoa puffs.
Everything that man did was infuriating. The latest annoyance was his recent shower. Who took a shower in the middle of the day? Ryder, apparently. Hopefully, he’d get dressed and leave the house so I could have peace and quiet. Sundays were my self-care days, which, among many pampering activities, included a nap. Just when I’d laid down, he’d turned on the shower. The pipes groaned and rattled until the water settled into a steady stream.
Just as I got used to the sound of shower, he started to sing. I thought singing in the shower was just a saying, but no. Ryder actually sang as he lathered up his … well, no, I wasn’t going to think about his hard, lean body that was infuriatingly perfect.
When the water went off, I thanked the lord and turned over to enjoy my nap. I could feel sleep shimmering at the edge of consciousness. I was nearing bliss when the twang of a guitar being tuned made me wince. Seriously? Now? Again? Did he ever stop plucking that old thing? I pulled the pillow over my head, trying some deep breathing to calm me down and lull me to sleep.
He strummed the guitar and began to sing.
Good God! Not that his singing was bad, because it wasn’t, but come on, grow up Ryder. Stop pretending to be a rockstar and get a real life.
Unable to stand it any longer, I jumped out of bed and stomped down the hall to his bedroom. I didn’t bother to knock as I barged in, prepared to give him the what for.
“Do you always have to play that blasted—” The rest of my sentence caught in the back of my throat as I realized Ryder was stark naked. He was standing, holding his guitar, but it didn’t cover much. It didn’t cover any of his … assets.
Don’t look, I chanted in my head, but of course, my eyeballs had a mind all of their own as they drifted down his body, over the guitar slung across his belly, and lower.
Holy hell, was his dick growing?
“Is there something you need?”
His words jerked my attention back up to his face. He had a knowing smirk as he waited for my response.
“I … ah …” Jesus, what happened to my brain? It was completely short-circuiting.
I’d always known Ryder was hot. I’d grown up with him as his twin sister’s best friend, so I’d seen him go from gawky boy to teen heartthrob to sexy man. But I’d never seen him naked, and while I was irked by it, I was also impressed. He was broad and firm through the chest. Lean and long through the hips. And his dick … oh God, it was growing.
He set the guitar down and moved closer to me. I was in a stupor as he reached me.
I blinked and finally managed, “Never mind,” and then turned and ran from the room like my hair was on fire. It had to be if the heat flushing my skin was any indication.
I reached my room, rushing in and slamming the door. I tried to lock it, but it was an old house with ancient door knobs that required a key to lock. Of course, the key was nowhere to be found. How this house was still standing I had no idea, as everything was old, tired and worn.
For a second, I leaned against the door, wondering for the umpteenth time what I was doing there, living with a man who irked me to no end. A man I now knew had the body of a Michelangelo sculpture. Good lord, he was sexy hot. No, don't think of him like that. He’s annoying, remember?
There was a knock on the door behind me, making me jump and move into the center of the room. I stayed quiet, hoping he’d go away. Of course, this was Ryder we were talking about. He lived to irk me.
The door opened and he came in. At least he’d put on some athletic shorts, although his chest was still bare in all its beefy glory.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Yes. How about we talk about how there should be locks on the door so people can’t just barge in?” I said, feeling relieved now that I’d found my voice.
“You didn’t bother knocking when you came barging in my room,” he pointed out quite calmly. “You might have avoided seeing me naked if you’d taken the time to knock.”
Crap. He was right.
“We’re living together for the time being. Married, even. You can’t freak out just because you see my dick.” His brows narrowed. “You have seen a dick before, haven’t you?”
Ugh! The man could be so annoying. “Is that what that was? I was worried you had a growth.”
He gave me a wicked grin. “It was growing, all right.”