How to Marry Your Frenemy - London Casey Page 0,34

smelled… him.

That’s when I knew I wasn’t in a stranger’s bed.

I was in Jackson’s bed.

I grabbed my clothes off the floor and threw them onto the bed.

Now the entire night was fresh in my memory.

I got married last night.

How?

I wasn’t fully sure how it all went down.

But I was wearing a wedding band and I remembered facing Jackson at some wedding chapel. I remembered him kissing me. I remembered me slapping him.

Then we had more to drink and…

I shook my head.

I hurried to take off the oversized t-shirt.

I stood topless, my eyes on the bedroom door, praying that Jackson didn’t come in to check on me.

Not that it mattered.

We obviously slept together last night.

My clothes were on the floor in a mess.

I woke up wearing his t-shirt.

Dammit, Callie.

I got dressed and ran to the bedroom door.

I paused and took a breath to collect myself.

The hangover raged from inside my skull down through my body.

My muscles felt gooey and weak.

I needed water. Coffee.

More to drink?

My stomach did a backflip at that last thought.

I slowly opened the bedroom door and started to walk through the apartment.

The best-case scenario was that Jackson had left.

To go get breakfast or something.

Or maybe he went to the gym to keep that perfect physique that everyone seemed to love.

If that were the case, then I could just shuffle my hungover ass next door to my apartment. I could shower, eat, have coffee, and go back to sleep for the day.

Then I’d deal with the whole I got married for money thing.

What a situation…

I made it halfway across the apartment before I realized the worst-case scenario was going to play itself out.

“Morning, wife,” Jackson said from the kitchen.

He stood at the island with a griddle in front of him, cooking eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

Shirtless.

I know where your shirt is!

He smiled at me and then flipped the pancakes.

When he did, muscles flexed that I didn’t know flexed during the process of flipping a pancake.

I licked my lips again, and it wasn’t because I needed a drink of water.

“What happened?” I asked. “And… are you naked?”

“What?” Jackson asked.

He looked down at himself.

Without hesitation, he stepped from around the kitchen counter.

I put my hands out like his dick was going to be exposed and it was going to shoot water balloons at me.

He does have a cannon though, Callie…

Jackson showed himself to me.

He wore boxers.

But, come on, the way they hugged his thick and strong legs… the pocket and stitching right in the middle, filled to capacity…

I looked away.

“How bad is it?” Jackson asked.

“I feel like I got shitfaced, married, had sex, and now regret my entire life,” I said.

Jackson laughed. “Let’s talk about which parts of what you said are true.”

Jackson put the coffee cup on the counter.

I grabbed it and started to drink it. Black.

After a few sips, I put it down and prepared it the way I liked it.

“Cream and sugar,” I said to him. “More sugar than cream.”

“What?”

“That’s how I like my coffee.”

“Why do I care?”

“You’re not going to make me coffee each morning?” I asked.

My mind shifted into self-preservation mode.

I had to get my power back again.

“No,” Jackson said.

“What about breakfast?” I asked, nodding to the griddle.

“This is my breakfast,” he said.

“What?”

“Did you think I woke up before you to cook for you?”

He started to laugh again.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Hey, if you want to do the wife thing for real, then you can cook for me,” Jackson said. “Got it?”

“Well, fuck you then,” I said. I stood up. “You can’t even give me a plate of food? After last night?”

“You wanted to get married to me,” he said.

“I don’t care about that. I’m talking about the sex. You can’t spare a pancake after a night of fucking me?”

Jackson put his hands to the counter and leaned forward. “We didn’t have sex last night, Callie.”

My face burned hot. “What?”

“Not even close.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, you were drunk,” he said.

“We both were,” I said.

“I knew where I was and what I was doing. You didn’t.”

I clenched my teeth tight.

I obviously overdid last night.

The idea that I couldn’t drink like the men made me want to lock myself in my apartment and drink whiskey until my liver was stone and I could drink myself sober.

“Now, since you seem so bothered that we didn’t have sex, let me carry you to the bedroom and properly make you my wife,” Jackson said.

The way he looked right then… leaning against the counter. The muscles. The messy bed head. The smell of bacon