Page 117 of Beyond the Stroke

This is good. Small talk is good. If only we could stick to that for the next few months, we’d never have to discuss what happened last night.

“Summer—”

“I gotta pee.”

I flip the covers off and rush toward the bathroom. When I pass by Rory, I get a whiff of his clean scent which causes my heart to race even more.

He moves aside so I can pass, and I shut the door behind me.

It wasn’t a lie; I do have to pee. But now that I’m in the safety of the bathroom, away from Rory’s perceptive gaze, I think I might never leave. It’s either take up residence here or face Rory. I’m thinking I could make it a few days at least. I’ve got running water and a toilet.

After I finish my business, I down a gallon of water, then brush my teeth.

I’m about to dive into anAll Sportsmagazine that’s sitting on the counter to lay low when the smell of bacon infiltrates the space. My stomach growls at the heavenly scent and I realize Rory is luring me out of hiding with the promise of breakfast.

Damn. He knows all the tricks.

I crack the bathroom door and find the bed is made but no Rory in sight. In the distance, the sound of bacon sizzling on a frying pan can be heard.

Rory’s so damn domestic; it makes my nipples hard. I glance down at my t-shirt and sure enough, my nipples are waging war against the worn cotton. I grab the nearest hoodie and yank it on before padding out to the kitchen.

As I’d presumed, Rory’s there in the kitchen cooking. He’s got a t-shirt and shorts on now. Thank god he’s not a weirdo who fries bacon without a shirt on. Still, the visual of his musculararms pressing against the sleeves of his shirt is enough to make my heart trip over itself.

“New marriage rule,” I say, trying for casual as I walk past him. “You have to wear a shirt at all times. Preferably a turtleneck.”

Rory’s lips quirk into an exaggerated smile. “All times, huh?”

“Yes.”

“I recall a similar conversation last night.”

“About last night—” I begin.

He lifts a brow. “Which part?”

“I don’t need a recap.”

“You sure? Because you were very talkative.”

At his teasing grin, my stomach drops, but I refuse to offer up information he doesn’t have. I need to know what Rory knows so I can do damage control. Get this fake marriage back on track.

“Yeah? What did I say?” I ask defiantly.

My eyes narrow as I watch him turn off the burner then slowly make his way over to me.

His proximity is making me twitchy with nerves, but I can’t show him my weakness.

“Something about me being too gorgeous and how it was annoying for you to deal with having a hot, fake husband.”

“Right. That.” I clear my throat, hoping that’s the worst of it. “That was the alcohol talking. I wasn’t in my right mind, so anything I said should be disregarded.”

He studies me a moment.

“Isn’t it usually the opposite? Anything said under the influence tends to be closer to the truth? Drunk words are sober thoughts. That sort of thing.”

I know what he’s getting at. Alcohol lowered my inhibitions enough to be honest.

I am attracted to Rory, but I’m the one who came up with the rules for our marriage so, attraction or not, I need to enforce them.

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