Lies That Sinners Tell (The Klutch Duet 1)

I spent the morning with him. It didn’t feel like work. It felt like a date. He hadn’t gone out of his way to make it feel like that. He wasn’t creepy, or sexually suggestive. Apart from his eyes, piercing, blue and full of sex. But I think that was just him. Au natural.

And I liked him. Liked his company. Liked being able to laugh with him. Liked that he easily volunteered information about his family—ranchers from Colorado who teased him mercilessly for becoming a ‘Hollywood Pretty Boy’ but also people who he obviously loved.

He asked about mine, too, seeming genuinely interested and not like he was just wanting for the moment where he could talk about himself again.

When we were finished, I’d almost been loath to leave. Which was unheard of, especially on a Saturday. If I did take a job—with Jay’s permission, of course, including instructions on when I had to leave—I was mostly just a ball of pent up energy, constantly watching the phone, counting down the minutes until I could get in my car and go to him.

I’d curse at traffic and curse myself for trying to be so strong and independent. By the time I arrived in Malibu, I was a sex starved version of myself.

But today, it was different. I told myself it was because it had been a long time since I’d enjoyed a drama free afternoon with an attractive man. Even tried to tell myself that I was getting sick of the arrangement. Of Jay. That the novelty had worn off, and now I was ready for a real, healthy relationship. With a man like Ollie.

Maybe even with the man named Ollie.

But I couldn’t hold on to that lie for more than a few seconds. Because I was not sick of the arrangement. Certainly not of Jay. It was the opposite. I was getting more and more attached to him. And I was fooling myself in to thinking that he was getting attached to me. That he had feelings for me. And, if I was being honest, I was nursing somewhat of a snit over Jay not coming to my birthday party. Despite the fact that Jay had never said he was going to come to my birthday party. The party was not on one of our days during the week. Even if it had been, he wouldn’t have come. That’s not what this was. Attending birthday parties was a boyfriend thing.

Jay was not my boyfriend.

I knew that there was no way he’d come, even if he knew it was happening, even if he knew that Wren had decided to make it part fairyland part meat market. Jay had done absolutely nothing to communicate that he was going to deviate from his regimented system. He had not given me any false hope. That wasn’t Jay’s style.

Yet I’d cultivated hope, in that romantic heart of mine. And in that dark, petty heart of mine, I was pissed with Jay. For not changing for me. For not doing the big romantic gesture. For not acting like we were in some romantic movie.

It was my own fault, really. But that didn’t stop me from slamming my car door just a little harder than necessary when I pulled into what I now considered ‘my’ spot.

Jay was in his study. I’d let myself into the house with the key he’d given me last week.

“This does not mean anything about things changing with the arrangement, doesn’t mean I feel anything for you. It means I prefer the convenience of having you let yourself in if you insist on being away on my time.” That was what he said when he handed it over, along with coaching me on the alarm codes, which were not written down.

He was going to great pains to show that he was not fond of me, outside of the weekends or the events I attended with him. He was doing everything he could to make it so I didn’t have any feeling for him. And a sane woman shouldn’t be developing feelings for this cold, complicated and harsh man. But when he touched me, I felt like the sky could fall in, and I wouldn’t notice. That I wouldn’t get a damn scratch because Jay wouldn’t let that happen. I slept in utter, silent peace when I was in his arms, and I didn’t wake up once, didn’t have a single nightmare.

He cooked for me.

He saw the darkness inside of me and gave it a home.

There was feeling there. Underneath his granite mask, I saw them. Felt them when he wouldn’t sleep unless he was gripping me so tightly I could barely breathe. When he kissed me softly on the head when he thought I was sleeping. Put on my favorite movie, the one I’d mentioned once, when I was waiting up for him one night. Put books by my favorite authors on the nightstand on my side of the bed.