Page 2 of Dirty Secret Love

Not to sound like a stereotypical asshole, but I blame my parents for this mess.

Why? Because my saintly mother taught me to always help those in need, no questions asked.

So when Sutton begged for my help with her scheme, I automatically said yes without thinking it through. I even recruited the help of my asshole brothers. And yes, I agree. This has to be filed in the what-the-fuck-was-I-thinking drawer.

Again, I owe this to my dear mom, who was a literal angel on earth. Don’t believe me? She managed to tame my tyrannical father. My siblings describe him as a monster when they were growing up. But to me, Dad was a warm, loving parent who doted on Mom, my sister Elle, and me.

His ex-wives claim my mother transformed him. I believe them because the moment Mom died, he turned ice cold—a dead man walking. I tried to pull him back from the darkness, but it was useless. He was never the same. Unlike my siblings, I didn’t hate him, but I wasn’t a fan either.

By trying to make him happy, I let my dreams and aspirations go. The day he died, I wasn’t free from my responsibilities. Nope, I got dragged into a private witness protection program with my sister and all my half-siblings. Supposedly it’s for my safety, but it feels more like a snake pit where I have to watch my back 24/7. I expect one of those fuckers is going to stab me.

Which brings me to my current predicament: fake engaged to Sutton Asher. She was desperate for help with her family situation, and I couldn’t refuse. Plus, pretending with her keeps me away from my own dysfunctional brood. It’s a win-win. I just need to follow the rules:

No touching.

No teasing.

And absolutely no falling for her, no matter how much her shy smile makes my pulse quicken.

Confession time, I might’ve broken one or two of them.

But I’m sure there won’t be any consequences. This is temporary, just until I can leave this godforsaken town. I hope the people searching for the culprit who killed my father wrap up my father’s case soon because I’m not sure how long I can resist Sutton’s appeal. The way her brown eyes sparkle when she laughs; how she absentmindedly tucks her dark brown hair behind her ear while reading.

I know what you’re thinking:

Stick to the plan.

Look, but don’t touch.

Smile, but don’t feel.

But it’s easier to say than to do. I understand this is just an arrangement of convenience. More so when I add my own clauses and even discover Sutton’s big, juicy secret.

Though the more time we spend getting to know each other and helping her with . . . her little secret, the harder it becomes to ignore the growing attraction between us. She’s not like any other woman I’ve known. Maybe pretending to love her won’t be so difficult after all . . .

ChapterOne

Sutton

“That fourth shotof tequila was a mistake,” I mumble, blinking at Jez and Wren’s blurry faces. “Hey Wren, when did you get a twin?”

My friends laugh at me, like this is just a funny episode in the Life of Sutton Asher. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying this is all a bad dream and not the reality of my parents moving back to Heartwood Lake.

“I’m not saying she has a drinking problem, but should we be concerned?” Drake cuts in.

I peel one eye open to find Wren’s fiancé watching me, his brow creased. “Want me to drive her home, babe?”

Wren shakes her head, her auburn waves bouncing. “I think it’s best she stays here tonight. I’ll get the guest room ready.”

I wave a clumsy hand. “No, no. I can go home,” I slur. “I don’t have a drinking problem. It’s more like a family problem—I’m related to them. Their existence pushes me to drink . . . heavily, hoping to forget them—or that I’m an Asher.”

Jez arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I’m guessing you’ve got enough booze in your system to give us the 4-1-1 about your mom’s call.”

Nope. I don’t think there’s enough alcohol for it. Still, I take a long, deep breath before doing so. “Remember last month . . .” I pause, resting my spinning head against the cushions. “When my sister got engaged to Mr. Douche? Well, my parents lectured me for being the black sheep loser of the family . . . dead-end job, small town, blah, blah, blah.”

“Blah?” Drake asks.

“Their usual lecture,” I add.

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