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Y esterday, when Easton went to play golf with the guys, he didn’t know it, but I was meeting with my attorneys. I wanted to see if my dad could revoke my trust fund if we were to ever get divorced.

The answer is that he can’t.

The money is mine.

When Easton returned home, I wanted to tell him what I’d found out. This way he’ll know he’s not trapped and stuck with me forever. He can have a life with a real wife and everything that goes with that.

Problem was, I couldn’t build up enough courage to bring up the subject. The truth is, I don’t want a divorce. I’d like to stay married to Easton. I don’t want him to be free to find someone else. I want to have a real marriage with him.

I just don’t know how he’d feel about that.

And that’s what scares me.

So, when he walked into the house yesterday, I just asked him about his golf game.

He said he’d won.

We were in the kitchen, and we just kind of stood there then, at a loss for words.

That’s been happening a lot lately.

Huffing, I started to walk away.

But then he stopped me when he said, “Can you hold up a sec? I forgot to tell you something.”

I turned back to face him, hoping he’d say he’s fallen in love with me, and can we stop this farce of a fake marriage.

But no, he just said, “I have practice tomorrow morning, and that pool repair guy I told you about is coming at ten. I should be back around eleven, but can you let him in and stick around till I’m home? You know, in case he needs something.”

“Repair guy?” I questioned, ’cause I had no idea one was even coming. “Is there something wrong with the pool?”

“Yeah,” Easton replied. “I guess I forgot to tell you. The pump in the infinity pool isn’t working right. We need to have it looked at. I called the shop the other day and made the appointment. I’m sorry. I really thought I had mentioned it.”

“I guess we’ve had a lot on our minds lately,” I said, waiting for his reaction.

He glanced at me, but then he looked away. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Ugh, I hate this.

“It’s okay,” I assured him, getting back to the pool issue. “I’ll be here. I’ll let the guy in and stick around till you’re home.”

“Great.”

He showed me a picture of the repair man and told me the company informs you via text so you don’t let in the wrong person. I think that’s a good idea, seeing as you can never be too careful nowadays.

I didn’t say anything when I saw the photo, but I was immediately struck by how freaking hot the guy is. He’s young and has blond hair and surfer-dude good looks.

I was sure to play it cool and nonchalant, but in my head, I was coming up with a plan, a plan I’m about to implement today. Because today is pool repair day, and Easton is at practice.

Yeah, it’s time to make a bold move to see just how much my fake husband cares about me. And I mean in a romantic way. I’m tired of wondering and guessing. This could go on forever if someone doesn’t do something.

So, I’m on it.

I check the time and discover it’s almost ten.

Great.

I’m pretty much ready to go downstairs and put my plan into motion. But before I do, I take one final look in the full-length mirror in my bedroom.

My chestnut locks are tumbling down my back in soft curls, and I have my cutest sunglasses perched up on my head. I put on some liner and mascara earlier to enhance my eyes, but the coup de grace is what I’m wearing.

Or rather how little I have on.

Yep, I’m in a skimpy siren-red bikini. My breasts are practically spilling over the top, and the bottoms leave little to the imagination, as they expose quite a bit of my ass cheeks.

Ahhh, I have to chuckle.

This poor pool guy is not going to know what hit him.

And neither will Easton when he gets home.

This is going to be epic.

Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

One of us needs to make a bold move to elicit a reaction. If Easton comes home and doesn’t care that I’m outside flirting with the pool guy in a barely there bikini, then I’ll finally know for sure that he truly only sees me as a friend.

But if he gets jealous, well, then all bets are off. Maybe we can finally move forward and end this farce.

I smile at the thought, but then I’m startled as the doorbell rings.

Oh my God!

Hot pool guy is here.

“Showtime,” I murmur as I run out of my room and race down the stairs.

When I pop open the front door, there stands Mr. Hot Surfer Dude.

My, he is fine.

He’s even better-looking in person.

Easton is going to be so mad.

That is, he will be if he cares.

I welcome the pool guy in and, checking out his name tag, I say, “You can follow me out back, Brant. I’ll show you where the pool is. I was on my way out there anyway.”

It takes a beat for him to react, as he’s too busy checking me out.

Perfect.

This is going just as planned.

“Oh, okay,” he says at last. “Thank you.”

I can’t help but smile as he follows me through the house. I know he is totally staring at my ass.

Once we’re out back, I gesture to the infinity pool and let him know I’ll be hanging on a chaise lounge nearby catching some rays.

“If you need anything, like a bottle of water or a Coke or something, just let me know,” I say cheerily as I plop down on a padded lounger and lower my sunglasses to my face. “Oh, and by the way, my name is Claire.”

Might as well be on a first-name basis here, right?

Swallowing hard as he tries not to stare at my chest, he says, “Okay, sounds good. I’ll let you know if I get thirsty, Claire.”

Damn, you look like you already are.

Of course, I don’t say that. I just go with a slightly suggestive “You do that.”

Brant walks away to work on the pool, and I lean back, smiling.

I can’t wait for Easton to get home and find me out here.

This is so on.