Page 18 of The Last Love Story (Baker Girls #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JUSTIN

The air conditioning isn’t cold enough.

That or I’ve been working too hard.

Or, it might be my wife standing a few feet away in a sports bra and workout shorts while she hums along with whatever she’s listening to.

Her back lightly glistens with sweat, and I run a hand down my own sweaty chest.

She was working out in her bedroom while I was reorganizing some things in the extra room, so I can build my recording space.

Now she’s standing in front of the blender, completely unaware of my presence.

Creeper, party of one.

But she’s my wife. I’m supposed to creep on her, right?

Fake wife.

But I don’t want her to be. I don’t want a second of this to be fake. I don’t consider it fake. Now, it’s just a matter of convincing Jade. Maybe if I lean into our playfulness, the tension will finally spill over and we’ll take a step forward.

I’ll take anything I can get. Just having her lips on mine again would be heaven.

As she puts the cap back on the milk, I make my way over to her, wrap my arm around her waist, and pluck one of her earbuds out and put it in my ear.

“What are we listening to?”

But as I get the earbud situated in my ear, I get the answer.

A very dirty song.

That Ludacris one. What’s Your Fantasy?

Jade turns to gape at me, horrified.

“Damn, darlin’.”

She gives my chest a shove. “Rude. You don’t just sneak up on people! Or steal their headphones!”

She pulls the earbud out of my ear while taking the other out of hers and setting them both down.

I brush my thumb over her cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“No,” she huffs.

“Mhm. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have fantasies. Want to tell me about yours?”

She spins back around and pins me with what I’m learning is her signature “pissed off Jade” look. Part playfulness, mostly I’m-going-to-cut-you .

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she purrs. But it almost sounds murdery.

I take her in. Pissed off Jade really turns me on. Thankfully, my cargo shorts hide my semi.

Dragging my teeth over my bottom lip, I lean in. “Nah. I already know what yours is.”

She rolls her shimmering brown eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Yep. In the library, right? Maybe on some books?” I wiggle my eyebrows as I reference one of the places in the song.

She stares at me for a long beat, then the hint of a smirk appears. “And defile a sacred space? Maybe. But I can’t promise I’d be quiet.”

She says the last part just loud enough for me to hear—another reference to the song. But damn if I don’t love how she plays with me.

“I wouldn’t complain, darlin’. Now, since I’ve been an ass and interrupted your smoothie-making, how about you let me finish up?”

She quirks a brow. “I can make a smoothie.”

“Never said you couldn’t. Just want to say I’m sorry.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, her phone rings.

“Ah, saved by bell. You answer that, and I’ll finish up here.”

She shakes her head, but grabs her phone. “Fine.”

But as she walks away, she makes a little ugh noise.

I add a pinch of salt—a secret ingredient that brings out the other flavors, even in something sweet—and a dash of vanilla, then add some more frozen berries and milk and blend it all up.

Once I’m finished, I pour some into glasses for Jade and me, but before I can go find her, she reappears, hand wrapped tightly around her phone and cheeks more flushed than they were before.

And… are those tears in her eyes?

Who do I need to find and kill?

No one makes my wife cry.

I set the smoothies down and walk over to her, resting my hand on her arm to draw her focus to me.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

She tosses her phone on the counter and shakes her head. “My mother is what’s wrong.”

“What happened?”

She sniffs, a look of resolve appearing on her face, like the last thing she wants is to let her mother bring her to tears.

“I called last night to tell her we got married. She didn’t answer, so I just said I had exciting news.

When I told her, she seemed happy—if surprised—then asked about you.

All I had to do was say a few words, and she figured out who you were.

She found your social media and a picture of us and proceeded to critique every little thing about it. ”

She sighs, shutting her eyes for a moment and taking deep breaths, but when she opens them again, her eyes are glassy.

“She said I should’ve smiled better, done my hair differently, and if I was planning on getting married, I should’ve told her so she could’ve found a diet for me.

” She clears her throat and looks away. “She said I looked out of place next to you. And though she didn’t outright say it, her tone conveyed what she meant by that.

I looked like a girl in a frumpy garbage bag compared to the glowing, handsome man next to me. ”

Rage burns in my gut, but I tamp it down and focus on Jade. She doesn’t need my rage. She needs my comfort.

Cupping her face in my hands, I turn her head until her eyes land on mine again.

“Fuck her.”

“Justin—”

“No. I mean that. Every letter of every word. And if she ever says shit like that in front of me—if I ever overhear you on the phone and suspect that’s what she’s saying—I won’t be nice.

I’ll morph into the biggest asshole you’ve ever met and tell her precisely what I think of her and where she can go. ”

Because fuck anyone who treats people the way Jade’s mom is treating her. Her own daughter.

Jade laughs, but it’s more in defeat.

“Darlin’, I’m going to need you to listen when I say this.

You are beautiful in every possible way.

You don’t need a diet, a different hairstyle, some other smile, or another dress.

You are perfect as you are. And in our wedding photos, you are the shining star.

Everything else pales in comparison to you, so do not for a second let her unkind words get in your head.

They aren’t true, and you deserve better than that. Better than her.”

I sweep my thumbs over her cheeks as she stares up at me .

“Justin,” she breathes, all the pain gone from her eyes as desire blooms in them.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

I pull her closer, then spin her around, leaning her against the kitchen island. My hand slips to the back of her neck as she licks her lips, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

God, I need her. Need her lips on mine. Need to know what it feels like to have her curves pressed against me. What it would be like to be buried inside her.

I fight back a whimper as I lower my mouth to hers, giving her time to stop me. But she doesn’t. She leans in, ready for me.

Her breath tickles my lips, and?—

Clunk.

Thunk.

We jolt back at the loud noises, followed by some soft metal whirring and a final clank.

What the fuck?