Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,44

to tamp them down, keep them from flaring into an inferno of emotions. But it was a struggle.

Oh god, had Nora been right? Had I caught feelings?

No. Absolutely not, and this ring was proof. It was ostentatious and flashy, and nothing like the real me. A ring as fake as the engagement it represented.

I could still do this. It would be fine.

“All right, then. I think this is the one.”

16

Shepherd

I came home from the gym on Saturday to an empty house. My dad had gone somewhere with Ethan and Grant for the day. Everly had said she was going for a run, but she wasn’t back yet.

It was so quiet. And empty.

I downed a glass of water in the kitchen. I liked it quiet. I’d lived alone for years, and never once thought of this place as feeling empty. But I found myself mildly disappointed that Everly wasn’t here.

Why? I had work to do, anyway.

I needed a shower, so I went to my bedroom. Our bedroom? Evidence of Everly was everywhere. She kept her things neat, but I could see her yellow slippers next to the bed. A book on her nightstand. A pink tank top tossed on a chair. Her clothes peeked out from the partially open closet. So many colors. Pinks, yellows, and blues.

She was going out with her friends tonight. Glancing at her clothes made me wonder what she’d wear. That little black dress she’d worn when I’d taken her to dinner? My hands clenched into fists. She looked sexy as fuck in that dress, and I didn’t like the idea of her wearing it to some random bar with her girlfriends.

Of course, she’d have a ring on her finger. A big one, at that. It had only taken a week to get her ring and she’d been wearing it for the last several days. My lips twitched in a half-smile. Her ring would certainly be a deterrent. No man would hit on her when she was wearing that thing.

Unexpected benefit of Everly now posing as my fiancée: She had my ring to mark her as mine.

It was something of a mindfuck to realize how much I liked that idea. She wasn’t mine. In fact, I’d never thought of a woman that way before, even women I’d actually dated. So why did I enjoy the thought of her delicate fingers lifting her martini glass, an enormous diamond glittering on her left hand, declaring to the world that she was unavailable?

She was right about the ring. It was hideous. I knew it wasn’t something she’d wear under normal circumstances. But nothing about this was normal, and the ostentation of the ring signified that.

And Svetlana eyed it with open envy, which meant it had been the right choice.

I stripped off my clothes and tossed them in the hamper while I waited for the shower to get hot. The bathroom was filled with Everly as well. Her toothbrush was on the counter, along with a few cosmetics, a hair brush, and a bottle of pink nail polish. The little pops of color looked so foreign and strange among my blue and gray decor.

Steam filled the air and I got into the shower. It felt good after a hard workout. I washed up and let the hot water stream over me. Closed my eyes and felt it run down my face.

When I opened my eyes, Everly’s pink shampoo bottle caught my eye. I’d sniffed it before, so I knew it was why she smelled so fucking good. This, and something else that seemed to be just her. I couldn’t explain it. I’d held this bottle to my nose more than once, trying to decipher what it was that made it so captivating. It smelled great, but on her? It was intensely arousing.

I grabbed it and flipped the top open. Took a deep breath. Strawberry. Why did this botanical something-or-other strawberry-scented shampoo do it for me? I had no idea, but my dick was waking up.

The scent reminded me of the way my bed smelled after she’d slept in it. The sound of the shower running and the times I’d pictured what she looked like standing here, beneath the streaming water. Or lying in my bathtub, her nipples glistening wet.

This train of thought, and the scent of strawberry shampoo in my nose, was making my hard-on worse. How had I gone three years with Everly as my assistant without ever thinking about her sexually, to living with her for a few weeks