Rent-A Husband Read online

  “We’re just friends, Gramps.”

  His grandpa looks at me. “Well then, you’re either blind or stupid and I know you’re not blind, son.” He claps Lucas on the back while I bite back a laugh.

  “I thought I heard a car pull in the driveway.”

  I turn around to find a gentle-looking elderly lady coming up the driveway.

  “Hey, Grams. Travis called and said you guys needed help moving something, so I swung by.”

  “Thank you,” she says and walks straight to give him a hug.

  “I could’ve done it myself. I’m sure you’re busy,” his grandpa says.

  “Never too busy for you, Gramps,” Lucas says, and I melt a little.

  “Sure, and then you’ll pull your back and be on the couch for two weeks and I’ll have to be at your beck and call. No thanks,” his grandma says. “Now, who do we have here?” She smiles at me.

  “This is my friend Camila. Camila, this is my grams, Beatrice.”

  “Nice to meet you, Beatrice.” I hold out my hand to shake hers and she waves me off.

  “Nonsense. I’m a hugger.” Then she wraps her arms around me in a warm embrace.

  I can see why Lucas has such a soft spot for his grandparents. It’s hard not to feel safe and cared for in Beatrice’s embrace and I only just met the woman.

  “What are you two so dressed up for?” she asks, and Lucas once again explains. “Sounds like it was a good time.” She waggles her eyebrows and I feel my cheeks heat.

  “Anyway,” Lucas says, “show me where you want the freezer to go, Gramps.”

  “Camila dear, why don’t you come with me and I’ll get you something to drink?”

  I can’t very well deny her when she’s so sweet, though I’m not sure how Lucas will feel about me spending time alone with his grandma.

  “Okay.” I glance back at Lucas while I follow his grandma down the driveway

  He glances my way with a look of concern. I can’t be sure if he’s concerned that I’ll tell Beatrice about the cruise, the deal we made for him to be my pretend husband, or just that she obviously wants to get to know me better.

  Stepping into the house, I push that to the back of my mind. Beatrice is a lovely lady and I’m not going to put her off.

  The house is as cute and tidy on the inside as it is on the outside. It screams grandparents. A lot of the furnishings are clearly dated, but they’re in such good condition that they don’t appear aged. When I follow her into the kitchen, I realize it even smells like a grandma’s kitchen—like the fresh baking of some mouth-watering dessert.

  “Do you like cookies, sweetheart?” Beatrice turns and asks me while she grabs a pitcher of something out of the fridge.

  “Who doesn’t?” I sit at the small kitchen table.

  “I just made some chocolate chip cookies earlier this morning. They’re in that cupboard right there.” She motions to the cupboard to the right of the sink. “Help yourself. If Lucas finds them, he’s likely to eat them all.”

  I chuckle. “Lucas? He seems like he doesn’t eat many sweets.” I think back to last night when I couldn’t convince him to have any of the bite-size desserts set out at the party.

  “Don’t let that body of his fool you. He’s a sucker for his grandma’s homemade cookies.”

  I chuckle and open the cupboard to find a glass cookie container with flowers painted on it, three-quarters full of cookies. “Would you like one?”

  “No thanks. I already had my share for the day.” She winks at me.

  I take a couple of cookies for myself and sit at the table again while Beatrice pulls a pair of glasses from the cupboard.

  “Lemonade good?” she asks.

  I nod as I take my first bite of one of her cookies and moan. These are divine. How is Lucas not three hundred pounds when he has access to these whenever he wants? No wonder he comes over here all the time.

  “Here you are.” She sets a tall glass of lemonade in front of me.

  “Thank you.” I take a sip and can tell right away that it’s homemade too.

  What must’ve it been like growing up with Beatrice as his grandma? I have grandparents on my mom’s side, but they’ve always lived across the country, so we’ve never been that close. And my dad’s parents had already passed when I was born. When I was younger, I used to wish they were still alive so that I could ask them where my dad was. I push those unpleasant thoughts to the side.

  “So, dear, how do you know my Lucas?”

  I’m pretty sure I’m not mistaking the hopeful look in her eyes, so I decide to make it obvious to her that we’re just friends. “I used his company to repair an issue with my bathroom, and that’s turned into a full-on bathroom renovation that Lucas is doing, which sort of morphed into the two of us becoming friends.”

  Even though I just told her we’re friends, the gleam in her eyes makes me think she doesn’t believe me. “That’s nice. He’ll do a good job for you. He and his brothers did our bathroom a few years ago. Turned out beautiful.”

  I sip my lemonade and take another bite of my cookie. I want to inhale these pieces of heaven, but I don’t want her to think I’m a heathen.

  “Have you and Arthur lived here a long time?” I ask.

  She nods. “Oh yes, almost fifty years. We moved here when we were first married.” She glances around the kitchen. “This place has so many good memories.”

  I smile. It’s obvious how much love she has in her heart for this house. I think she’s probably picturing her children and then her grandchildren running around these rooms.

  “Anyway, what about you, dear? What do you do for a living?”

  I explain to her what my job entails. We chat a little more about nothing in particular until Lucas joins us in the kitchen.

  “All moved, Grams.”

  She stands from the table and walks over to him. “Thanks, sweetie. You know what a stubborn mule your grandfather can be. He would’ve tried to do it himself.”

  “Not a problem.” He heads right to the cupboard I got the cookies from and takes out a handful. “Mind if I take these for the road? Camila needs to get home.”

  “Of course not.” Beatrice turns to me. “It was wonderful to meet you, dear. I hope it’s not the last time I see you.” She gives Lucas a meaningful stare then follows us to the front door.

  “Thanks so much for the treats. And the talk,” I say.

  “You come back any time you like.” Beatrice pulls me into a hug. I know for sure now why she’s a hugger and not a handshaker. She gives the best hugs.

  “Thank you.” I head outside while Lucas says goodbye to his grandma and gives her a hug.

  After we say a quick goodbye to his grandpa, we get in his truck and Lucas takes me home. He never asks me what his grandma and I talked about, but it’s obvious that his energy has shifted. Something about me being there bothered him, and I’ll never know what because I’m too chicken to ask.

  Twenty-Two

  Lucas

  “Did Lucas tell you he’s dating one of our customers?” Travis says and narrows his eyes at me.

  I knew this was coming. I could tell by the tone of his voice when I was talking to him in the truck yesterday morning. And from the fact that he called me twice earlier today. Travis isn’t one to call unless there’s a reason. But I’m not in the mood. I spent the day trying to catch up on administrative bullshit for the business and I just want to relax and enjoy the rest of my Sunday with a good meal.

  “I’m not dating her,” I say.

  We’re sitting in my parents’ backyard, drinking beer and shooting the shit until dinner is ready. My parents and Grams and Gramps are all in the house.

  “Wait. What? You’re always harping on me not to flirt with the customers and now you’re dating one?” Josh says, affronted.

  He’s not wrong, but my youngest brother has a problem keeping it in his pants. That often gets him in trouble.

  “It’s not like that.” I lift my beer and take a s
ip.

  “I called him yesterday morning and he was just driving back home from the city with her.”

  Josh’s mouth drops open. “You’re finally getting some and you didn’t share with the class? I have to say, I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Abbott.” Josh uses a fake authoritative voice for the last sentence.

  Travis shakes his head at Josh.

  “I already told you, we are not dating.”

  “What are you doing then?” Josh asks.

  I’ve thought about whether I should tell my brothers what’s going on and decided that yes, I should. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to about this, and besides, my brothers won’t open their mouths about it to anyone.

  So I explain how Camila’s last boyfriend was a total douchebag and what he did, then about the wedding invitation and how I agreed to be her date. They’re on board until I mention what happened at the Stag and Doe and how I’m now pretending to be her husband.

  “She did what?” Josh says, his mouth hanging open.

  “What the fuck, man? You’re pretending to be some chick’s husband? That sounds more like a scenario Josh would find himself in than you,” Travis says with a scowl.

  “Please, she wouldn’t be able to find Josh the next day,” I counter, and Travis and I laugh. “But you should’ve seen the way her ex’s fiancée was treating her. He was cheating on Camila with her, and she was totally rubbing it in Camila’s face. I couldn’t do nothing.”

  Travis raises an eyebrow. “So it was your idea?”

  “Not exactly. It just kind of slipped out of Camila, kind of a one-upping. I agreed to go along with it to help her out.” I am not telling my brothers that I’m being paid for my role in this shenanigan. I’d never hear the end of it. Gigolo jokes for the rest of my life.

  “I didn’t think you had it in you, bro. Good for you,” Josh says and clinks his beer bottle against my own.

  “Good for you?” Travis scowls at our youngest brother. “This is destined to go south. Either you’ll be found out or one of you will start to feel like it’s real and be let down by the other. I say bail now while you can.” He tips back his beer.

  “There’s no bailing now. I’m already in it. I have to see it through. Besides, it’s only one more event.”

  Travis shakes his head.

  “When is the big shindig?” Josh asks.

  “End of August,” I say.

  “Not the same day as Grams and Gramps’s anniversary party, I hope.” The line forms between Travis’s eyebrows.

  “Of course not. I’m not an idiot.”

  “What’s she look like?” Josh waggles his eyebrows.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s all pretend, remember?” Travis says.

  I mean, he’s not wrong. Only it does matter, because the way she looks makes her hard as fuck to resist. And then when you add in how smart and career-oriented she is, along with how she really seems to care about her friends and how funny she is—it makes me think Camila’s the perfect woman for me.

  But I won’t risk it because I can’t be the one to break her heart again. I’m committed to scaling this business and that needs to be my sole focus. A few years from now, hopefully I’ll be able to spend more time and attention on my personal life, but that time isn’t now.

  “Anyway, you guys can’t say a word about this to anyone. Got it?” I point at them both so they understand that I’m serious.

  They nod, and I hear the back door open. My grandma comes out to join us at the table.

  She inspects the three of us. “You boys look like you’re up to no good.”

  She always knew when something was going on with one of us when we were young.

  “Just talking, Grams, that’s all,” I say.

  “Yeah, Lucas was just telling us about his new friend,” Josh says, unable to keep a straight face.

  “Camila?” My grandma’s eyes light up.

  This is what I was afraid of. Seeing the two of them talking in my grandparents’ cozy kitchen, a place that held so much significance in my youth, was jolting. I knew when Camila said we could stop on the way to her place to help them that my grandparents would probably assume that the two of us are in a romantic relationship, but I figured I could navigate that.

  But watching my grandma take her into the fold and knowing how likable Camila is just made me picture a future—literally see it right in front of me—that’s appealing, but never going to happen.

  “Yep, Camila,” I say and take a pull of my beer, hoping we can move the conversation to something else.

  “How do you know her, Grams?” Josh asks.

  “Oh, Lucas brought her by with him yesterday when he came to move the freezer for your grandpa.”

  Josh nods slowly then looks at me. “Interesting.”

  “There’s nothing interesting about it. We’re just friends, like I said.”

  “No need to get testy about it, dear,” Grams says, patting my shoulder.

  She’s right. It doesn’t matter what these two fools think. The only thing that matters is that Camila and I are clear where the boundary line is drawn and that neither of us crosses it.

  As soon as I have that thought, an image of the two of us kissing at the event Friday flashes in my mind, taunting me.

  It doesn’t matter if it’s clear to me that there’s something more between us. I won’t act on it and that’s what matters most.

  Twenty-Three

  Camila

  Amber lost her shit when I told her about what I did at the Stag and Doe, in regard to telling everyone that Lucas is my husband and not some guy I’m dating. Rightfully so. I still can’t believe those words came out of my mouth.

  What’s even worse is that I have to keep up the charade at work since everyone there now thinks I’m happily married. And that’s when the realization came that at some point, I’ll have to tell these people I’m “getting divorced.” How had I given no thought to how I’m going to tell my coworkers that my marriage is over?

  Still, I’m thankful Lucas went along with the insanity.

  The bathroom is taking longer than expected to finish because Lucas has to work late so often to get through all the calls they have. Even with their new guy, they can’t keep up.

  Normally, a homeowner would be annoyed by the delays, but I’m very aware that the minute this bathroom is complete is the minute that my daily communication with Lucas will cease to exist. Sure, he’s going with me to the wedding, but that’s not for almost another two months. Will we just not talk until that time comes? Another thing I never considered when I started this charade.

  I’ve gotten used to Lucas being in my life, and it’s going to feel weird to give that up. But what am I supposed to do? Throw myself at him and tell him I want our fake relationship to be real? No thanks, I’ve had more rejection than I can handle for a lifetime.

  Besides, I don’t think he sees me like that. The weirdness that lingered after we left his grandparents has disappeared over the past couple of weeks, but I still get the feeling that he’s keeping his distance.

  Maybe he doesn’t want to confuse things between our working/fake/real world relationship, or maybe it’s because he’s not into me. But either way, the message has been sent and I’ve received it loud and clear—nothing is happening.

  He comes out to where I’m watching TV a couple of weeks after the Stag and Doe and says, “That should do. Want to come have a look?”

  I should be ecstatic. My bathroom is finished. I don’t have to deal with construction in my house anymore—the noise, the dust, the disruption to my life. But instead, all I feel is a small sense of panic. Because this is it.

  “Absolutely.” I pause the show and stand from the couch, then walk past him down the hall.

  I purposely haven’t looked at the bathroom from the time he started the tiling. I wanted it to be a surprise after it all came together, rather than seeing it piece by piece. So when I step into the space and see everything I picked come together,
I can’t believe it’s my bathroom.

  My hands fly up to cover my mouth and I gasp. “Wow, this is…” I circle around, barely believing how amazing it all looks. It’s straight out of a magazine. “It looks wonderful. You did such a good job.”

  I run my hand over the countertop and take in the brass fixtures that coordinate with the lights. I didn’t want to spend my savings on a bathroom, but in this moment, I sure am glad I did.

  “Lucas.” I turn to face him. “Thank you so much.”

  Before I think better of it, I wrap my arms around him. He stiffens at first but relaxes into my hold and hugs me back. This is the first time I’ve touched him since the Stag and Doe, and I’m overwhelmed by how right it feels, how much it feels like coming home.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, and I feel the vibration of his voice in my cheek.

  I pull away then step back, tucking my hair behind my ear. Maybe a hug was overdoing it, but I truly never thought it would turn out this well.

  “If you see anything that needs fixed or is bothering, you just call me and I can come by and take care of it for you,” he says and pushes his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans.

  We stand in silence for a second. It starts to feel awkward, so I blurt, “Let me get you your check.”

  He nods and steps back to let me exit first. As he follows me down the hall, I’m hyperaware of the fact that he’s probably watching every move I make. Heading to the kitchen, I grab my purse from the counter and pull out my checkbook.

  I fill out the check while he watches silently. I swear it gets more awkward with every second that ticks by. When I’m done, I rip out the check and hold it out to him.

  “Thanks.” He folds it in half and shoves it in his back pocket without bothering to look at it. He points his thumb in the direction of the hallway. “I’m just gonna go clean up the last of my tools.”

  “Sounds good.” I nod and head back into the living room while he returns to the bathroom.