Page 16 of Playboy Husband

MAISIE

The hallway bustled with kids shuffling toward their next class. Lockers slammed and voices bounced off the walls, the week well underway now that Monday was behind us and Tuesday had finally come.

I was halfway to the science wing when I spotted him. Callum? What the hell?

Tall, broad-shouldered, and impossibly out of place in a school hallway filled with gangly middle schoolers, it was definitely him.

He moved through the tightly packed crowd with easy confidence, his dark hair somehow gleaming even inside a building during the middle of the day.

Artfully mussed, it had been styled to hang just so over his forehead.

The second those shockingly blue eyes found mine, something in my chest tripped. I frowned, still wondering if I was hallucinating when suddenly he was right in front of me. “Hey. I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

I blinked hard, completely stunned and at least thirty percent certain that he wasn’t even real. “That depends. What are you doing at a school?”

“Looking for you,” he said without skipping a beat. His tone was steady and businesslike, but there was something else in it that made my pulse jump. “I should have called, right? I thought I might surprise you, but I’m realizing now that might not have been the best move.”

A vague flicker of something that looked a lot like vulnerability in his eyes was what finally made me accept that this was actually happening. In my wildest dreams, I would never have thought he was capable of being uncertain of himself, which meant I definitely wasn’t hallucinating.

I glanced at the clock. Exactly three minutes before my next class.

Without thinking, I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him into the nearest empty classroom, shutting the door behind us and spinning to face him. The noise of the hallway was muffled now, making it a lot easier to think.

He produced a thin file from a satchel hanging at his hip. “Do you have a minute?”

“Pretty much exactly that,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“This is the prenup,” he said, holding the folder out toward me. “You asked me to send over the contracts, but I wanted to bring them to you myself.”

“Why? I really wouldn’t have been offended by an email.”

Those full, impossibly kissable lips curved into a slight smirk.

“That’s good to know, but I wanted to look you in the eye when I told you that there’s nothing in there that’s not negotiable.

Except the part where we actually have to get married.

My lawyers drafted all this, and if you want, I can have them send someone to walk you through it.

Someone to help you negotiate anything you’re not comfortable with. ”

I stared at the folder in my hands, feeling the weight not of the paper, but of the implications those papers held. “I, uh, thank you for the offer, but my friend, Georgia, is an attorney. She’s already handling that for me.”

His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Okay. Well, I guess that’s good. She’s someone you trust. If she has any questions, she’s welcome to reach out to my team. Or to me. Their numbers are in there and you have mine.”

I nodded, but the silence that followed stretched like a fraying old rubber band, tense and brittle. Forcing myself to breathe, I did my best to focus on the man in front of me and not the pounding of my heart or the guilt clawing up my throat.

“This is happening, then,” I said finally, clutching the folder tightly to my chest as I lifted my gaze to his. “We’re really doing this.”

He stared back at me for a moment, his expression entirely unreadable. “Yes, we are.”

I nodded again, my mouth drying up completely. This was what I wanted. What I’d decided was the right thing for Brody. For me. For all of us.

So why is my chest aching like this lie is going to suffocate me? Why is my heart racing like having him so close to me is the most erotic encounter I’ve ever had? And how the heck am I going to survive living with him if a minute-long meeting affects me this intensely?

The warning bell rang, shrill and abrupt, jerking me back to reality. I glanced at the door on instinct, knowing that whoever taught in here would be back momentarily. “I need to get to class.”

“We’ll talk more later,” he said quietly, but he didn’t leave right away, lingering instead with his eyes steady on mine in a way that made it impossible to look anywhere else. “There’s one more thing. Can you come to the courthouse with me later this week?”

I shook my head. “I’m so sorry, but I really can’t. We’re too close to midterms. I can’t take a day off right now, but we have a break at the end of next week. I’ve got that Friday off. We could do it then.”

He nodded once, like he’d already magically rearranged his entire schedule to make himself available. “Friday, then.”

The words felt final, like the click of a lock. My heart thumped, but he still didn’t leave. “Have you talked to Brody about it yet?”

My stomach twisted. “Not yet. I will. I’m just, I’m, uh, not quite sure how to do it.”

Because how exactly do you tell your seven-year-old you’re marrying someone he barely knows? Even if that someone happens to be the one person who seemed to understand him instantly, it’s still not an easy conversation to have.

Callum took a step toward me, narrowing the space between us until he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him. His hand came up to wrap around my upper arm, firm and warm, but not demanding or possessive.

Just… there. Like he was anchoring me. To him.

Oddly, it was soothing. I leaned into his touch without meaning to, allowing it to soothe me like a balm.

“My parents want to meet you,” he said gently. “You should bring Brody, too. Dinner on Friday?”

The intimacy of the moment was so sharp that it stole my breath, my focus, and even my logic. The world outside the classroom suddenly felt very, very far away.

“I can’t,” I managed, my throat tight and my voice not convincing at all. “Brody has a hockey game upstate this weekend. He’ll be gone with his team and I’m driving some of them, so unfortunately, neither of us will be able to make it.”

For a moment, his thumb brushed over the sleeve of my cardigan, a barely there motion that made my pulse spike, but he dropped his hand, stepping back as if he’d finally remembered where and who we were.

“Another time, then.” His voice was calm again, crisp and polite, but I could still feel the ghost of his touch burning against my arm.

The final bell rang and I crashed back into reality. “I really have to go.”

“Yeah, okay. Goodbye, Maisie,” he said, once again reaching for me and giving my arm a light squeeze that made me feel things I hadn’t felt since college.

I suddenly felt awful for keeping this secret from him, but I also couldn’t see a way out of it anymore. I clutched the folder tighter, reminding myself this was all for Brody.

For Brody.

As Callum slipped out into the hallway ahead of me, however, I wasn’t sure my heart was convinced of that anymore. Callum Westwood had always been dangerous to me, but he had certainly never been more dangerous than he was right now.