Page 29 of Real Fake Husband
“Watched me that closely, did you?” She gives me a questioning look.
“I didn’t have to. I could hear you from a mile away.”
“What do you mean?”
“You almost killed me that day after school. Remember?”
Her lips twitch. “No, I only threw that stone because you kept teasing me.”
“Which caused me to fall out of the tree.”
“And then you played dead. I almost had a heart attack.”
“You looked pretty alive to me with all your screaming.”
She laughs, this time a deep, full belly laugh that catches the attention of some of the dogs around us.
It makes me grin.
I really do like making her laugh.
Josie shakes her head in disbelief. “I got called into the principal’s office! Because ofyou.”
“Well,Idid too.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” she concedes. She holds out her beer in a toast. “Here’s to leaving preconceived notions behind and starting afresh.”
I tap my beer to hers. “I’ll drink to that.”
The rest of the meal goes surprisingly well. Josie and I reminisce about our school days, swapping stories and catching each other up on classmates we’ve kept in touch with. You would swear we’re old childhood friends who’ve always been in each other’s lives.
I don’t remember ever getting along with her this well.
The rain finally stops on the drive home. I roll down the windows, crank the music, and we enjoy the drive. I even catch Josie singing along to the radio.
Once we get home, I collapse onto the sofa. Which, in hindsight, is a bad idea because I forgot how uncomfortable it is. I consider moving to the armchair on the other side of the room, but I’m a big guy and the couch lets me at least spread out some. My body, feeling the effects of a long day of physical labor, groans in protest. I’m able to find a relatively okay seating position and relax. Tomorrow is going to be another busy one. I’ve got meetings with motorcycle collectors, and I want Theo and me to go through the job applicants and start scheduling interviews.
Josie sits down next to me, kicking out of her shoes and pulling her legs up. She, too, has to shift around a bit. When she finally settles, she’s practically buried into my side. Warm, soft skin presses against me. Why is she suddenly cozying up to me? She only had two beers—she can’t bethattipsy.
“Thanks for dinner,” she says with a smile. “I actually had a good time.”
She leans even closer—seriously, something’s up—and the scent of her vanilla shampoo hits my nostrils. “Good, I’m glad. It was nice seeing you loosen up a little.”
She peers up at me. “You make it sound like I’m uptight or something.”
I don’t even dignify that with a response. I just give her a look.
She laughs and shoves me playfully. “Do you think I’m pretty?” she suddenly asks out of the blue.
“No, I don’t think you’re pretty.”
“Oh.”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
Josie’s eyes light up. Her hand on my arm awakens my dick, and I’m contemplating going for it—and by going for it, I mean throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her into the bedroom, laying her down onto the cozy, comfortable queen-sized bed, and showing her exactly how beautiful I think she is.
Knock. Knock. Knock.