Page 75 of Axe-identally Married
She shook her head, focusing on the ground between us. “I have a lot of reading to do,” she mumbled, walking back to the house.
The minute she turned her back, I couldn’t repress the ear-splitting grin.
I picked up my maul, determined to finish the rest, certain she’d be watching from inside.
Line up.
Swing.
Chop.
Every few minutes, I caught a glimpse of her in my periphery. Hell yeah, she was watching. So I went for it. I peeled my shirt off and got back to work.
I hadn’t made it through the entire pile before my shoulder was screaming. I was fairly certain I’d need reconstructive surgery, but it was so worth it. The way her eyes widened and breathing picked up? Yup, my wife was hot for me.
It felt like the best kind of victory. Until I realized I might have to keep this up and embrace the full lumberjack lifestyle. Shit. Maybe Gus could give me lessons before the baby came?
When Jude found out his trick had worked, he’d be such a know-it-all about it, but I had every intention of baking him dozens of peanut butter cookies in thanks.
That look on her face alone was worth the ache in my shoulder and the taunting I was bound to be subjected to.
Operation Lumberjack had been a success. Now I just had to stay the course and not fuck it up.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Willa
Sharing Christmas morning with my husband of convenience may have been the most surreal experience of my life.
Our tree, a little wonky and crooked, was decorated with a mix of things Cole had bought at the gas station and the ornaments we’d made during our hot chocolate and Christmas movie marathon last week.
It looked ridiculous, but also full of cheer. Staring at it made me happy. Purchasing my own Christmas tree was one rung on the adulthood ladder I had not climbed until now. Not when I’d always lived in tiny apartments and was usually working on Christmas.
I’d mentioned it offhandedly to Cole a week or so ago, and that night, I’d come home from work to a small, scrawny tree standing in front of the windows in the living room. He’d already set it up in a proper stand and had even bought the vitamins to keep the needles from dropping.
It was the kind of thing he did. His actions were typically silent and sweet, and he was cognizant of never crossing the line. Since our chat after the kiss that will never again be mentioned,he’d been a perfect gentleman, even keeping his yoga mat far away from me during our morning routine.
We were crushing this fake marriage. We’d gone to my parents’ for Christmas Eve, where my mother had made a feast and my dad and I had played chess while Cole helped with the dishes and sang along to Christmas carols with my mom. He’d even knitted matching scarves for them, which they’d worn around the house with pride.
It was so silly, but the way he so easily fit into our little family dynamic meant a lot to me. He asked questions, complimented my mom’s cooking, and was genuinely thankful for the small gifts my parents had placed under the tree for him. He seemed to genuinely enjoy them.
I’d always imagined waking up on Christmas morning and rolling over to snuggle my husband. Never had I pictured us in separate beds or the bout of anxiety that hit me while I brushed my teeth.
Despite the routines we’d fallen into, suddenly, I was devolving into a tween girl, questioning whether I should have showered before coming downstairs. Or maybe curled my hair. God, why was I such a train wreck.
And then I saw him.
That motherfucker.
He was wearing plaid pajama bottoms slung low on his hips and a motherfucking Santa hat. Andnodamn shirt.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, a smile spreading across this face. Even though his scruff was quickly becoming a full beard, I could still make out the dimples beneath it, and the sight made my heart race.
That bastard. There went every rational thought in my head.
“We said no gifts,” I protested several minutes later as I pulled a gorgeous green hat onto my head. It was soft and warm and matched the scarf he had made me perfectly. The frequenthandmade gifts were making me feel things. And I couldn’t afford that at the moment..
“Do you even know who you married?” he teased, his dark eyes dancing. “I’ve never met a rule I didn’t want to break.”
