Page 2 of Accidental Husband

My best friend is calling off her wedding. She's no longer marrying Jackson Jones, the most boring man in the history of the world.

She's no longer in a relationship with the most boring man in the history of the world.

She's single.

Not that it matters. Jules and I are friends. Just friends. Jackson didn't believe that—he was always giving me dirty looks, like he was sure I was only hanging around her to get in her pants—but that doesn't change the facts.

I've known Jules since I was in third grade. I barely register her as a girl. I don't want to fuck her.

If I did, I'd wrap my arms around her and whispertake off your jeans, I want to feel you come. How do you want it? On my hands? My face? My cock? I'll grab a toy if that's what turns you on.

I don't beat around the bush. I don't sugar coat. I don't bullshit.

When I want something, I demand it.

Right now, I need a fucking explanation.

"Griff? You okay?" Wes interrupts my train of thought. His blue eyes fix on me. Fill with that Wes-likeI'm fucking with you, but it's for your own goodplayfulness.

I appreciate it, I do. Wes is a good friend. My best friend, after Jules. But, right now, I don't have time for the banter.

"Your plaything dump you?" he asks.

"No." My current fuck buddy and I texted plenty last night. Explicit shit. Explicit shit that made me hard enough to bust out of my jeans. Not that it matters at the moment.

"Then what's with the face?" he asks.

I shrug my shoulders, but it's not all that convincing. Which is ridiculous. There's no reason to be upset. This is a good thing. Jules is better off. Even if Jackson was the only thing keeping her in Southern California.

My heart thuds against my chest as I check our text history for clues to the timeline of her breakup. We were talking last night (after I finished with my fuck buddy).

She gushed about her current YA book—aSleeping Beautyretelling that's making her believe in fairy tales again—and went on and on about the boys in blue. God, her love of the Dodgers is comical. And it's pure Jules too.

"Griff? You there?" Wes asks.

Right. I'm at work. With fifteen minutes until my next appointment.

Inked Hearts is a great shop. A Venice Beach institution. I'm lucky to have a gig here, with some of the best tattoo artists around.

I need to keep my head in the game. Stay professional. Stay out of the shop gossip.

We can talk after this. Or maybe never. It doesn't feel right sharing details.

Jules and I have always existed in our own universe. A place that belongs to us and only us.

I roll my shoulders back. Perfect my poker face. This needs to be calm, cool, convincing. "She called off the wedding."

"You two fucked."

"No." Why does everyone think that?

"She finally realize she's in love with you?"

I shoot him aget reallook.

"You realized you're in love with her. She wanted time to process that, so she asked Mr. Boring to put things on pause."

"Seriously?" I ask.