It didn’t hurt to lie to her by omission. He wouldn’t mind being just Brock, the guy who pissed her off, for a little while longer.
CHAPTER 5
June
“Oh my god. These waffles are to die for.” She committed the cardinal sin on her own list of no-no’s and spoke with a mouthful of dough which just happened to be covered in whipped cream and berries. June finished her mouthful and licked whipped cream off her finger.
“So… what did you remember?” Her caveman partner asked.
He sat stoically on the edge of the bed, surrounded by trays of food. She’d ordered four different dishes, since she wasn’t sure what he liked. He hadn’t touched any of it. Oh well, more for her.
“I think we should eat first. Talk second. That eliminates any lingering hanger.”
“Hanger?”
“You know, hungry anger. Or whatever. People get hungry and get low blood sugar and it makes them a rage machine. I also think it’s best for a hangover.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” her caveman groaned.
No. No way. Not my caveman. Never. “Well, how about names?” It would sure beat calling him her anything.
“Right. Brock.” He stuck out a hand. She glanced down at her sticky fingers and reached out anyway. She nearly gasped at the jolt of awareness that rippled up her arm. It wasn’t like a shock of electricity or any of that romantic sappy crap. It was- oh god, it burned alright, in all the wrong spots. Even the briefest touch of his skin set her off like a firecracker inside.
June carefully tucked her hand back at her side. She reached for her fork, since that was far safer. She’d stabbed at him if he attempted to touch her again. Not that it was his fault his god like, sinful body, made her want to ovulate on the spot. Damn biology. She couldn’t help that the guy was a panty dropper. Or that a part of her was jumping up and down and doing cartwheels because she’d actually slept with him. A woman’s wet dream. Like, every woman’s wet dream.
She’d definitely have a story for Jasmine and Mandy. No, wait. They’d probably see the guy. She was married to him after all. That was going to take some ingenuity to undo. Her stomach tightened at the thought of strutting around showing him off like a proud peacock. What is wrong with me? No. No, no, no, no, no. I have to get rid of this guy and the sooner the better.
“Do you have a name?”
She snapped out of her thoughts. She tried to hide her embarrassment, but she knew her cheeks were probably glowing a cherry red. She dipped her head. “June.”
He seemed like a Brock, for some reason. She was honestly glad that his name actually fit. If he’d been named Bob or something, she’d have to keep calling him Caveman, since it would have been far more apt. Brock was a good name. A solid name. It reminded her of a mountain or a pile of rocks. A pile of bronzed muscle. Shit.
June pointed to the nightstand, next to the phone. “I guess we could have just looked at the marriage certificate. I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that’s what’s in that black folder. The whole writing on the front that says ‘marriage certificate’ kind of gives it away.”
Brock inclined his head and his sensuous lips turned up in a half smile that revealed the crinkles at the corners of his spectacular eyes. “I didn’t see it before.”
“Neither did I, until I went to use the phone to order this. I didn’t open it. I’m too scared to look, but that folder sure seems official.” She pointed at the food. “Anyway, I think you need to eat. Please. I can’t have this conversation with you if you’re going to go into another one your rages. Maybe your anger issues stem from being hungry.”
He shook his head, amusement flashing in his eyes this time, not annoyance like before. “I don’t have anger issues. Ask anyone. They would say that I’m a pretty level-headed person.”
“I’m sure. Does this count?”
“Does what count?”
“A marriage that neither of us remember?”
That did it. His smile faded and, shockingly enough, a dull pink tinge appeared on his cheeks. God, the guy had high, nice cheekbones. He had some damn good genetics to thank for that godlike bone structure. Damn it again. Damn him. Damn it all. Why can’t he just look like a troll? This would be so much easier. Instead, June could practically feel her ovaries generating eggs.
“No, I guess that doesn’t count. Why don’t you tell me what you remembered? Maybe it will help me remember something as well. I- of course I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Have you ever slept with an escort? I would say that’s worse.”