My Fake Husband by Black, L. (lightest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach didn’t know the truth.”

“I’m so afraid of what you’re going to say right now.”

“His dick. That’s the way to his heart. I knew this at nineteen! How do you not know this?”

“If you try to tell me dirty sex things you did to my brother-in-law when you were a teenager, I’m going to puke in the sink. Please stop. And the only man I’m dealing with right now is Jimmy the landlord.”

“That is absolutely no fun. Damon would be way more fun. You know he would be.”

“Yes, he’d be fun. He’s a fun person and a good guy, but he’s not for me. I want more than a hook up with a hot fireman.”

“If you have the option of a hookup with a hot fireman, take it. I would if I wasn’t, you know, married till death do us part,” she sighed. “I really want some chips.”

“I love you. Goodbye,” I said, hanging up.

How had a call with my sister, who I missed so much since she moved to Savannah, end up being all about Damon Vance? We grew up in the same little town, our moms were friends, and he was always nice, but he was older, and we didn’t know each other, not really. I knew the way his stubble glinted with a flicker of blonde in the auburn when he was overdue for a shave. I knew that he was the damn hottest specimen of man God ever put on this earth. I also knew that he was a playboy.

Women threw themselves at him. I’d seen it happen in a bar, at the diner, once at the public library downtown. They went overboard with the flirting and asking him to help with a button or a bracelet or reaching something off a shelf, and then they touched him as if by accident. He was like woman catnip. I wasn’t about to try to compete with that or become part of that crowd. I sighed out loud and the bell on my door jingled. I turned and nearly choked when I saw the man himself.

As if I’d conjured him up, Damon stood in front of me. Six foot three, broad and strong, exactly the kind of firefighter that they put on calendars for fundraisers. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, nothing fancy, no sexy uniform and hat or anything. But he was plenty hot enough to make me fumble around with my cell phone, which I was still holding in my hand while I had been thinking about him. I knew color rushed to my cheeks. I felt warm and flustered around him.

“Hi,” I said, my voice going chirpy.

“Good to see you Trixie,” he said. “How’s the flower business?”

“Oh, it’s—blooming,” I said and then put my face in my hands. “Why did I say that? Ugh! It’s fine. The flower business is fine and not completely cheesy like what I just said. I—guess I’m tired or something. I usually answer questions like a normal person.”

I was babbling like a thirteen-year-old faced with her crush. Then he smiled at me kindly.

“You were probably real busy when I came in, and I just startled you is all. Now I was hoping you could help me pick out some flowers for my little sister. Laura’s having a baby.”

“That’s great! Her and Brody make a real cute couple,” I said.

He smiled again. “Yeah, they really are. It’s super weird still that my best friend is married to my little sister, but they really are happy. So I’m happy. I just want to show them that.”

“Well, I seem to recall ‘say it with flowers’ was a slogan way back when. You can’t go wrong with roses, but if they seem too serious, daisies are a sweet choice.”

“Roses do seem a little formal,” he said, “I never thought about it that way, but I always thought roses were for lovers.”

“And funerals,” I pointed out. “Sorry. I don’t know why I don’t have a filter today. It’s just that a lot of people order roses for casket arrangements—partly because they symbolize love and partly because they’re showy and expensive.” I said. Why did I keep talking? Why?

“If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re awful cute when you’re embarrassed,” he said with a wink.

Oh my God. Damon said I was cute and winked at me. I wanted to do a fan girl squeal like a total moron, but I’d save that for later. I was shocked that I managed to keep from humiliating myself further and just smiled at him a little shyly.

“So embarrassment’s a big turn-on for you?” I blurted out.

Jesus. Why? Why did I go there? I was so awkward that I wished there was a Socializing Police that could come by and shoot me with a tranquilizer dart to put me out of my misery.

He grinned, looking a little bashful himself, “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. He was doing his adorable Southern gentlemen routine now.

“I’m sorry. I cannot be held responsible for what I do with my mouth today.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“What comes out of my mouth, I mean. I won’t blame you if you just turn around and walk out, I swear. Damon, I’m sorry.” I was blushing red as a beet, and I knew it.

This was why I never had a chance in hell with the man. I acted like a fool every time he spoke to me, always had. It was like my IQ fell out or something. I was so embarrassed I wanted to crouch down and hide behind the counter with the ribbon. Maybe if I did that, he’d just go away. I was about ready to burst into humiliated tears.

Then he laughed. He had such a good laugh. It vibrated through me and made me feel less miserable.

“I haven’t had a laugh like that in a good few weeks, Trixie. I’m sure glad I came in here today. There’s nobody who