Page 12 of Contingently Yours

The color of his face says he has murder on his mind.

Ha! Maybe this won’t be as miserable as I imagined.

I can play the doting boyfriend and piss him off at the same time.

I am now committed to not letting go of his sweaty-ass dirt digger until we’re done with the showing for the day.

If he wants sweet, I’ll be as sweet as a freaking toothache.

Shaw did say to be attentive. I have a feeling I’m going to thoroughly enjoy being attentive if it gets under Lucas’ skin this easily.

“Smile, baby. We’ve got islands to sell,” I mutter under my breath as we approach the lounge.

His breath is audible. His mouth widens, lips pressed together in a thin line.

“If you call that smiling, they’re never going to think we’re a couple.”

“I’m trying,” he grits, but it only gets worse.

“Everything all right?” Dario asks, quirking a brow.

Fuck. I’m not the only one getting angry mutant vibes from my dickhead boyfriend.

“Yeah. Lucas was just bummed that he’ll miss a monster truck rally next week when we’ll be in Massachusetts.”

“Ah shit, mate. I’m sorry.”

I can practically feel the hostility rolling off him. Slipping my arm around his shoulder, I hug him to me. “It’s all right,” I assure Dario and his husbands, who look up from their meal. “I told him I’d make it up to him. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Holy fuck. Could he look any more pissed off? It was just a joke. Couples joke.

Crap. Dario looks like he’s got our number, his brows now scrunched suspiciously.

Turning Lucas by the shoulder, I cup his beard in my hands to direct his grumpy face away from theirs. The man would suck at poker, wearing his emotions like this.

“What are you doing?” he whispers angrily, scanning my hands like he’s terrified by my proximity.

“Paying for a wedding. Don’t fucking move,” I murmur and hold my breath as I slam my mouth against his.

He lets out a startled noise and clutches my wrist. Only Lucas would make a guy need to resort to his backup plan on day one. If he freaks out and decks me, I’m going to drown him in the ocean.

Clutching onto the back of his fat head, I make a show of moving my lips over his when really I’m just grinding our tightly closed mouths against each other. I’m going to have beard burn after this. That’s a new one for me. The shit I do to prove things to my family.

“Yeah! Get it, Lucas!” Mason cheers, letting me know I’ve sold enough of my soul for one day.

I release him, and he lets out a strange sound. You’d think I just slapped him the way he’s gaping at me. His tongue darts out and wets his lips. It didn’t feel like a kiss until he did that. Gross. Now I can kind of taste him.

Granola bar. Yeah. Definitely granola.

Someone whistles, probably Mason. He seems like the liveliest of the group.

It’s enough to clear the strange fog in Lucas’ eyes, and he blinks, releasing my wrist. Clearing my throat, I glance over at our amused clients.

Flashing them a satisfied smile, I run my hands down Lucas’ beefy shoulders to further seal the facade.

It’s meant to look like a caress, but it feels strange.

He’s like a damn brick building. A far cry from the slender and curvy female bodies I’ve had my hands on.

“There’s more later where that came from,” I tease, patting his furry cheek, enjoying the way it makes his jowls jiggle on his stupefied face.

Fortunately, feeding him turns out to be a good cover to hide his emotions.

For a guy who bitched about me controlling the entire showing, he stayed mostly silent throughout lunch and the rest of the afternoon.

By the time dinner rolls around, holding his hand isn’t even weird anymore.

It just feels like I’m guiding around a silent lumberjack out of charity since he’s given up sassing me in front of the Hepperlys.

He offers one-liners of slightly helpful insights about the property and manages these breathy little laughs that have to be completely forced, but all in all, it’s passable.

I haven’t detected a single skeptical look from our merry clients.

The tour of some of the rooms, the grounds, and a potential area to build a stage all went fairly well.

Yet, the trio seems satisfied to wait to give their full opinions until we look at the next property the day after tomorrow.

With the investment they’re making, I can’t say I blame them, even if I hoped we could cut this trip shorter than planned.

Hauling our luggage upstairs, I leave my suitcase by the room we were given and grab one of Mason’s from him. “You guys are right here in one of the luxury suites. We’ll be right next door if you need anything.”

“Andrew, how about a tour around the cay tomorrow?” Dario asks, holding the door to their room open for Keenan. “Can we take one of those boats out?”

“Yeah, of course. That can be arranged. How about after breakfast? I think the caretaker said they’d serve it at eight.”

“Sure thing. See you at brekky.”

I blink, wondering what he means until Lucas mutters, “That means breakfast.”

Oh. How could I forget that Dario’s number-one fan is my new roommate? Walking back toward our room, I mumble, “I knew that.”

The asshat rolls his eyes and gives me a smug look. I’ll give zero fucks about that when I’m sound asleep in an hour.

Opening our door, I roll my suitcase inside, grateful to be done for the day. The balcony doors are open, letting in the cool evening breeze from the cay already making my sun-kissed flesh feel at ease after the long day of travel.

“Why is there only one bed?”

And so it begins…

Tossing my backpack on the dresser, I eye the bed in question. Decent-looking mattress and fluffy comforter. I am going to pass the fuck out as soon as I get crab-ass squared away.

“Because…while someone was fucking around with the luggage this morning, I got put on the spot arranging our rooms with the caretaker in front of the Hepperlys.”

“And…what does that have to do with one bed? I know they have doubles here.”

“Uh, maybe because we failed to plan a backstory where we came from a Mormon community and are saving ourselves for marriage? What was I supposed to do? Ask for separate rooms right in front of them?”

Scoffing, he stands there like a lump with a frown, eyes fixed on the bed like it’s a rat trap. “Well…where am I supposed to sleep?”

“The floor? The couch? Out on the balcony?” I gesture carelessly, kicking off my shoes. “What the fuck do I care as long as we walk out of the same room in the morning?”

His gaze goes from the sofa, which upon second glance is actually a love seat, then to the bed, and then to me. “We’ll take turns,” he lets out finally.

“Like hell we will.” Ignoring his appalled expression, I grab my toiletries bag out of my bookbag and head for the bathroom. “And I get the first shower!” I call just before slamming the door shut behind me.

I no sooner get all the Lucas sweat washed off my body and stroll back out into the room in my towel than I hear a knock on the door. My gaze snaps to Lucas. Gross. He actually does wear tighty-whities.

Okay. They’re black, but it’s the same fucking thing. Did not need to see that.

Eyes round, he freezes with a pair of clean underwear and a towel clutched against his stomach, glancing at the door.

“Gents? You decent in there?” Mason calls from the other side.

I no sooner yell out, ‘yeah , ’ than I spot Lucas’ makeshift bed on the floor. A pillow and…did he fucking gank the comforter off the bed? What the actual fuck?

“Quick! Get on the bed!” I whisper, swiping up the comforter and tossing it onto the mattress. I nearly forgot the pillow until I trip over it when Lucas’ shoulder bashes into mine.

“Watch it!”

“You got in my way,” he grumps, barreling onto the mattress.

The door creaks open just as I whip the pillow at dickhead’s face and spin around with the smile my DNA gifted me. Brushing my damp hair back, I adjust my towel and nod at a freshly showered Mason.

“What can we do you for? Room okay?”

His bare chest displays an array of tattoos and two pierced nipples. A pair of sleep pants are slung low on his hips. I should be at ease that he feels comfortable enough around us to waltz right into our room in such a state, but the grin he flashes after looking past my shoulder makes me cringe.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says.

I can only imagine the bed looks like I just wrestled a bear, but points to shit timing if it planted the wrong image in his brain.

Flicking his thumb over his shoulder, he continues, “So, Dario and I decided we’d like to go for a run on the beach in the morning.

You know, get all the views that the guests would have.

Keenan said he’ll save us some breakfast, so I wanted to let you know you don’t have to wait for us. ”

“Oh, all right. Great idea. There are paths all the way around the property, so you should have smooth sailing.”

“Can we do the boat tour about ten o’clock?”

“Absolutely. We’ll have her ready for you.”

“Right-oh. Carry on.” He salutes with a wink.

Heaving out a breath, I pinch my eyes closed. That was a close call. Fucking Lucas. Turning around, I find him looking as clueless as usual.

Why is his mouth always parted? Does he have sinus problems or something?

Legs splayed open, he’s practically spread-eagled on the mussed-up bed, ruining the illusion of sound sleep for me.

He looks like he just got fucked and is still in shock over discovering that orgasms are better than deep-fried pickles.

At least, his broken facial muscles are good for something.

Either that, or Mason is just shit at reading a room.

“I get the left side,” I inform him, chucking his pillow to the other side.

Blink. Blink.

Yeah, dickhead. You just graduated from the floor, I don’t say.

I’ve not gone through everything I have all day just for one of the Hepperlys to barge in again and find Lucas in a makeshift fort on the floor like we had a lover’s quarrel. Eyeing the alternative, my good humor fades. I can just picture his mat of chest hair shedding as I stand here. Yuck.

“And keep your short and curlies to your side.” I wave at the dark smattering of hair that covers his pecs all the way down to the slight paunch of his stomach. “I don’t want to wake up with a mouth full of your fuzz.”

Grunting, he gets up, swipes his Superman-style underwear, and stomps to the bathroom. This commission is starting to sound like not enough.