Page 9 of Fools Rush Flynn

“Who?”

“Uh… your neighbor. The one behind you in cabin fourteen.” Temple points somewhere over her shoulder.

“You already met a neighbor?” I’ve been here for a month and wasn’t even aware I had actual neighbors.

“Yes, she was very friendly. And helpful. I needed to know if that top center beam was structurally sound for me to use my hammock on it.” Her shoulders lift in a shrug. “She assured me it was and then called me your ‘pretty little wife that you’ve been hiding from the world’. Then she said something about how it must be because of all the baby making we were working on.”

I nearly choke on my own spit. Because in that moment all I can think about is Temple swollen and ripe with my kid. What is it about this woman that brings out my inner caveman? I hadn’t even realized I actually had one of those.

“What did you tell her?” I ask.

“I just laughed and told her that she was right, when you have a husband who looks like mine, there’s no way you can keep your hands to yourself.”

I suppress a groan. She’s obviously trying to kill me.

“Apparently some people in Saddle Creek skip straight over the small talk and jump right into bedroom and reproductive talk,” Temple says nonchalantly.

She’s clearly not thinking about us rolling around in the bed naked, me trying to pump her full of my seed. I needlessly wipe my palms against my denim clad thighs.

“You said something about a party for your grandmother?” I ask.

“Right. You remember how obnoxious my family can be. Houston society meets country club chic.” She rolls her eyes.

“Rick the dick?”

“He’ll be there, no doubt following us around with a microscope. Then there’s his wife, Lotus.”

“His wife’s name is Lotus?” I ask, scratching at the back of my neck.

“Yes. I don’t think that’s the name her mama gave her, but as far as I know it’s her legal name. She’s a real treat, so be excited you get to meet her,” Temple says.

“Maybe we should try to get you pregnant. That would end all of the suspicions about our marriage,” I say.

Temple’s gasp is quiet and had I not been looking at her pretty face, I might have missed it. She looks… panicked, maybe? It’s hard to tell.

I wink at her to diffuse the tension.

She releases a small chuckle. “We only need to stay one night. We show up for the party, act like we’re stupid in love, and hope Grandma is having one of her more lucid moments so she sees it.”

“What exactly does ‘stupid in love’ look like?” I can’t help but ask.

My wife’s bluebonnet colored eyes find mine. “Lots of eye contact. Hand holding. Probably some kisses. You might want to use a pet name with me.” Again she shrugs. “Real couples do that, don’t they?”

I skip answering her question because I joined the Army right after high school graduation and haven’t had any adult relationships other than with her. I haven’t touched another woman since Temple and I got married. Despite the fact that this marriage was supposed to be in name only, I honor my vows.

“I’ll think of something. Good thing we have the Bluebonnet Festival tomorrow night. We can use that as a dress rehearsal. Make sure we get lots of ‘stupid in love’ activities played out.”

“Oh, a real small-town festival. It’ll be like living in one of those charming holiday movies.”

“Something like that.”

She leans forward and puts her hand on my knee. “Flynn, seriously, thank you for letting me completely tip your life upside down for a little while. I know I owe you. And don’t worry, when the time comes and we need to get divorced, I’ll make sure I’m the bad guy so you can find you a real wife someday.”

With that, she stands and disappears into my bathroom.

I want to call after her to tell her she can’t wear only yoga pants and sports bras in the cabin. I won’t make it.

Too. Fucking. Tempting.