Second Chance Husband: A Fake Bride Romance Page 6

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “I’m showering and changing.”

  “Need an extra pair of hands?”

  “Nope. I think you probably have your hands full right now with that.” She gestures vaguely toward my cock.

  I grin at her. “Good point. Might as well rub this boner out and think about that sweet ass you just showed me.”

  She blushes and glares all at once before disappearing back into the bathroom with a huff. I shake my head as the door shuts and the shower comes on, and my boner doesn’t fucking go away.

  I slowly stroke myself, leaning back and lounging. I think back to that dream from last night, a thousand different positions with Piper, a thousand different ways to make her feel incredible. It was a dirty fucking dream, and no wonder my dick’s still hard.

  But that’s not what really sets me over the edge. It’s the memory of her ass, barely covered by those panties. I grab some tissues from the side table as I come, the thought of her round ass riding my fat dick playing through my brain like dreams of Christmas morning.

  I’m all cleaned up, the tissues tossed in the trashcan, and bonerless when Piper finally comes out. Nothing like jerking off first thing in the morning while your producer showers in the other room to really start your day off right. At least my dick’s not hard anymore.

  “Get showered,” she says to me, glancing at the clock. “We’re running late.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll make it.”

  She frowns a little bit. “And listen, about last night.”

  I shake my head, slowly getting up. I’m wearing just boxer briefs and I like the way her eyes flick over my cut muscles and the tattoos covering my skin.

  “Don’t mention it,” I say. “We didn’t fuck. Just two people sharing a bed, is all.”

  “Right,” she says. “Just two coworkers sharing a bed.”

  “Of course.” I wink at her and head over to my stuff, picking out some clothes for the shoot.

  She sighs and sits down on the bed. “But don’t expect that to happen again, okay?”

  “Of course not. Why would I think I’d get to share a bed with my wife?”

  She glares but doesn’t say anything as I carry some clean clothes into the bathroom. I take a quick shower, dry off, brush my teeth, get changed, and by the time I’m back out into the main room, she’s gone. Probably scurried off, afraid of seeing my body mostly naked and dripping wet.

  I’m smiling to myself as I head out after her, ready for a good, solid day of work.

  9

  Piper

  What’s wrong with me?

  Seriously, what’s wrong with me? I keep acting like Jace is this womanizing, bad boy asshole, and I hate him or something, but then I invite him into my bed. It wasn’t like I was drunk and wanted to sleep with him, either.

  I just felt bad. There he was on the couch, his legs barely fitting, his big body scrunched up. Maybe it had to do with what he did for me back at the bar, I don’t know. It was macho and stupid and he’s a freaking caveman, but I liked it. It’s gross and weird but I liked it. There was something primal, and sexy, and I’m not proud of myself by a long shot.

  But seeing him there on the couch, I felt bad. He was willing to step up for me, so the least I could do is let him have a decent night’s sleep.

  At least that’s what I’m telling myself. That’s not the whole story and I know it, but I can’t dwell too much. I’m too distracted as it is and I’m supposed to be working.

  The kitchen in Robert’s Steak House is hot but empty except for Jace and his friend and Chef Manny Robert. They’re doing a pretty straightforward cooking segment, although nothing is straightforward when Jace is at the helm.

  “Cheers,” Jace says, and the men down their third shot of the morning. It’s barely noon and I can tell they’re on the way to getting wasted.

  “You know, we’re not normally supposed to get drunk when we cook,” Manny says. “I mean, it’s bad form, right?”

  “Forget form,” Jace answers. “This is the real kitchen. I used to stay up all night, drink until the dawn, and sleep until the dinner rush.”

  “You were an awful employee,” Manny answers, and the two guys laugh.

  I keep looking away from Jace. I can’t seem to make eye contact with him, not after what I saw this morning. I thought sleeping in the same bed with him was bad enough, but then I saw his… I mean, I glimpsed his…

  I take a deep breath. Okay, it’s not that big of a deal. He had morning wood, and I saw his penis. There, I saw his dick, his thick, long, straight cock, hard as hell, pressing out from the slit in his boxer briefs. He didn’t seem to mind as I stared at it, picturing all the women that have been pleased by that dick, and how stupid I am for wanting to see what all the hype is about.

  I mean, I get it. His dick is big, whatever, big deal. He’s attractive and his tattoos are hot and he’s muscular, but he’s a total ass. I need to keep reminding myself of that. He’s practically holding me hostage with this stupid marriage thing, so it doesn’t matter if I like his dick or whatever. I need to be a freaking grownup about this.

  Stop thinking about his dick. Just, for the love of all that is clean and pure, stop thinking about that idiot’s dick.

  The shoot goes pretty good after that. The boys stop drinking so heavily after another couple shots and the alcohol doesn’t seem to affect Jace’s ability to do what he does best. He keeps the energy up, keeps Manny laughing, and I have to admit that it turns out to be a pretty darn good segment. I’m pleased with it by the time they’re finished and the crew starts cleaning up.

  But my good day isn’t destined to last. It never is. My cell rings as Calvin and Eric are packing away the lights and I have to walk off to take it.

  “Hello, Piper speaking,” I say.

  “Piper, hi there, this is Luke from Sail Community Charter School?” He ends the sentence on an up-turn like it’s a question.

  “Hi, Luke,” I say. “I was just thinking about you guys. We’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

  He chuckles a little awkwardly. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’m afraid I have to cancel on you.”

  I don’t say anything for a second. “You’re canceling the day before?”

  “I’m really sorry,” he says. “There’s an outbreak of lice here, and I just can’t let you guys come film.”

  I snort a little. “Lice? We’ll risk lice. I’d rather get lice than screw up my filming schedule.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says again, laughing awkwardly. “It’s school policy. I can’t let you guys film.”

  I want to curse him out. We were supposed to do a segment where Jace goes and visits this charter school’s cooking class. He’d meet the kids, make some jokes, make some food, and talk about the history of education in Philadelphia. I wanted to get into a public school but that was basically impossible, so I settled for a charter, thinking it would be an easy thing.

  But now that sniveling bastard is canceling on me because of fucking lice?”

  “Listen, Luke, there has to be something we can do. Maybe we can film off-location?”

  “I’m so sorry,” he says again. “Honestly, there’s nothing we can do. Some of the children we chose to participate have lice, unfortunately. And it’s too late to choose more and get all the necessary permission slips and such.”

  “God damn it,” I say venting some frustration. “I’m really getting screwed here.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he says again. If he apologizes one more time I swear I’m going to come and burn down his shitty little charter.

  “Fine, okay. Thanks for calling.”

  “Of course, and if—”

  I hang up on him. Fuck that guy and fuck his stupid charter school. I slam my phone down on the table, groaning as anger builds up inside me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I look over my shoulder at Jace. His head’s cocked to the side, arms crossed over his muscular chest.
“Tomorrow just got screwed in the ass.”

  He grins. “My favorite. What happened?”

  “The charter canceled on us.”

  “Canceled? The day before?”

  “Something about lice.”

  “Fucking lice?” He laughs, shaking his head, his face completely bemused. “I can’t believe fucking lice are going to fuck up our schedule.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Holy shit. And the day before?” He laughs a little bit. “Unbelievable.”

  “I don’t know what you seem so happy about.”

  “Trust me, I’m not happy. It’s just, I’d rather laugh at it than flip a fucking table, you know?”

  “I get it.” I sigh and slump down into a nearby chair. “So we just skip the charter thing, fine. One less segment. We’ll just extend what we have.”

  “Maybe,” Jace says, drifting over and sitting down. The crew’s staring but they don’t bother me, and I can’t blame them. I’m liable to rip their heads off if they fuck with me right now.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “I’m from this city,” he says. “I can come up with something else to do.”

  “Seriously, Jace. That’s not your job.”

  He shrugs a little, already taking out his phone and turning away. “Let me make some calls.”

  “Jace.” I stand up and put my hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “I’m the producer. I need to vet any fixers, especially if we’re going to pay them. Plus there are all the legal issues, and the paperwork, getting approval…” I trail off as he turns around and looks at me.

  “You know I care about this too, right?” he says softly.

  That surprises me. I step back a little bit like he just put his hands on my chest and shoved. “I know that,” I say. “It’s your show.”

  “It’s way more than just a show to me.” He sighs, lowering his phone. “This is my chance, my one last opportunity. I screw this up and it’s over for me.”

  I chew my lip, unable to hide my surprise. Everyone knows this, it’s pretty much the most obvious fact about this whole project, but we haven’t actually said it out loud. Maybe it’s superstition or maybe it’s something else but nobody wants to broach the subject with Jace, and I haven’t exactly been ready to do it either.

  Still, he’s absolutely right. This is more than just a show for him. It’s his chance to prove that he’s not just a fuck-up drug addict, that he’s someone worth hiring and working with.

  “It’s my last chance, too,” I say softly.

  A smile slowly creeps across his face. “I know,” he says.

  I narrow my gaze and step back again. “You know? How?”

  “I did my research. Why do you think I hired you?”

  “Excuse me?” I don’t know what he’s even saying to me right now. He knows that I need this as much as he does? He can’t possibly know that.

  “Your last projects didn’t take off, and for someone with your job, that’s not a good sign. The network’s likely giving you one last chance to make something happen before cutting you off completely. Am I wrong?”

  I stare at him and for a second, I want to be pissed. I want to be angry as hell that he’s saying this about me… but it’s the truth.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I say, deflating a little bit. I let the anger fade away. He’s in the same position as I am, after all.

  “Good, so you get it. Fuck the rules, the legalities, all that shit. You can take care of the paperwork and the network after the fact. Let’s break rules and ask for forgiveness later.”

  I grin a little. “That’s a stupid tech bro cliché.”

  “Sure as fuck is, and we’re doing it, yeah?”

  I chew my lip and watch him for a few seconds. He’s animated, handsome, excited. He has no reason to be. One of our segments was just canceled at the last second and now he’s scraping at the bottom of the barrel for something to do.

  And yet… he’s staying positive. Because this show is more than just a show to him. It’s everything.

  “Okay,” I say. “We’re doing it.”

  “Good.” He grins at me. “We’re in this together, wifey. ‘Til death do us part, and all that.”

  I roll my eyes as he walks away, but I’m smiling. I’m freaking smiling at that stupid little speech he just gave me. I actually feel energized, like he’s going to fix everything and it’s all going to be okay.

  But soon the reality comes back to me. Even if he has an idea, I have to make it happen. That means convincing the network that this last minute stuff is all aboveboard and totally legit, and who knows if it will be. We’ll need to hire the fixer, get him covered by our insurance, or at least make sure our insurance will still cover all this stuff. And don’t get me started on the crew, they’re going to be pissed that I’m throwing them a curveball.

  But still… we’re doing something. I don’t know what, and it could be horrifying, but it’ll be something. I have to trust Jace, trust that he wants this as much as I do. I hate feeling like I’m at odds with him when I know we’re on the same team, but I can’t help it. This stupid fake marriage crap is still hanging over my head. Every time he calls me wifey, it just reminds me of what I am to him.

  I’m his fake bride. His practical joke. I’m just the producer from his past that he likes to tease. He needs me because he needs this show, and he thinks I can do a good job for him, that’s all. There’s nothing else happening, just a mutually beneficial working relationship.

  But as soon as I turn away, back to my laptop to start doing some preliminary research into making this happen, I remember his morning wood and the look he gave me. That wasn’t the look of a coworker. That was the look a hungry predator gives to its next meal.

  And it sent shivers of excitement down my spine. Apparently I’m a little rabbit, waiting for the big bad fox to come and eat me. I guess I’m sick but some part of me likes the thought and looks forward to it.

  10

  Jace

  Bombed-out houses with crumbled windows and missing stoops. Trash everywhere, heaped up in yards, piling against sidewalks. Crumbling masonry, crumbling parks, crumbling roads.

  North Philly is a fucking mess. It’s the place that time forgot, that housing segregation screwed up beyond recognition. It used to be a decent place, but slowly the city pushed all of its lower-income residents, most of them black, up into the north. Then the city built the parkway and basically cut them off from everyone else, effectively dividing Philadelphia in half.

  Housing segregation is something I feel strongly about. It’s a serious problem in America, when low-income people are basically all grouped together in low-income neighborhoods, forced to go to worse schools, and essentially are hidden away from the rest of society. It creates little echo chambers of poverty where people are born poor, know nothing else other than being poor, and the vast majority of them stay poor.

  That’s why I reached out to my friend Dante Andrews. He’s a sociologist at Temple University and studies housing segregation, so he’s the perfect fixer for this situation. He takes us on a driving tour, and we stop only to get shots in front of a few places: a broken-down house, a busted-up old factory, a park that’s practically crumbling to dust.

  “I hate to admit it, but you were right,” Piper says to me on the last of these stops. I give her my best grin as Dante talks with Calvin and Eric about Philly sports.

  “I love hearing those words.”

  “Dante is a good fixer. And a legit one, too.”

  “What do you mean, legit?”

  She shrugs. “I half expected some drug dealer to show up in a shady van.”

  “I figured having a segment on how to cook and inject heroin is probably not the best idea.”

  “I figured you’d just teach us how to buy it on the street.”

  “Even better.” I grin at her and she laughs a little bit.

  “Seriously though, this has been good, and alon
g the same lines as the charter school thing.”

  “Just trying to get a little political.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t think this is political.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, politics are about playing on your team, but there are no teams when it comes to fixing real problems like this.”

  “You sound like an idealist.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugs. “What are you then?”

  “A realist.”

  “That’s what all assholes say.”

  I grin at her and lean back in my seat. I’m sitting in the back of the van with her while Dante drives back to Temple. We’ve been shooting for a few hours now and everyone’s pretty sick of each other by this point.

  “No, I’m not really a realistic. I mean, you can’t be a junkie and be a realist.”

  “Why not? Seems like the sort of thing you’d have to go into with eye wide open.”

  “Sure, wide eyes, whatever, but a realist wouldn’t let himself get addicted. Every addict knows what it means to become addicted, knows that the most likely outcome isn’t a good one, but every single addict thinks it won’t happen to him. Every single addict thinks he can handle it, he can be the one addict that makes it. If that’s not idealism, I don’t know what is.”

  “Sounds like a coping mechanism,” she says softly.

  “Maybe, but I have that in me. I always think I can do better, that there’s better out there, we just have to find it.”

  “Must be nice. I don’t fully relate. I’m mostly just waiting for the hammer to drop.”

  I laugh softly at her, leaning close. “Don’t worry, wifey. You’re with me now. The hammer will stay far, far away from you.”

  She rolls her eyes but she’s still smiling, and that’s what’s important.

  We drop Dante off on campus and the crew starts arguing over where to go next as Piper gets behind the wheel. “Let’s go back to McGillin’s,” Calvin says. “I liked that place.”

  “Why would we go back there?” Eric sneers at him. “We’re in a new city, let’s try something new.”