Page 34 of The Marriage Deal (Sunset Falls #1)

YOU CALL HER THE LUNATIC

brIGGS

Icould have set up my office in the house. There are enough rooms.

Hell, I could have done it in the garage. Sacrificed one of the three oversized bays, thrown up some drywall and bam. But no. I thought it would be a stellar idea to craft my temporary office space from a corner of the existing barn.

In the beginning, I told myself it was just sense.

I’d be closer to the construction of the resort, after all.

But now I know it’s more than that. It’s because I didn’t want my men lusting after my fake wife.

A woman I feel all sorts of possession over even though I know possession is the furthest thing I have a right to feel.

It’s fake. So why does she feel like mine?

I curse at the tight space as I scan the pen markups to Nash’s paper drawings. Plans have changed, as plans always change. I’ve given up trying to get the guy to use a tablet like someone from the twenty-first century. Paper and ink are the way he operates.

Still, I let another curse slip at the stack of drawings I’ve positioned on the table that is too big for the makeshift space.

We’re putting in a pool now. For the couple of cooler months of the year, it’ll be heated.

With the sloping concrete work, fountains and view of the desert mountains with their veins of red surrounding the space, it’ll be a showstopper. Still, it’s missing something.

But what?

I’m chewing over the feeling that something isn’t quite right when I glance out the window to see Lilah standing talking to one of the crew men.

My body responds physically to the sight of her after waking with her in my arms this morning.

I’ve never experienced the collage of emotions that I experienced upon waking with her tucked in close.

And then her breath hitched when I shifted.

I’d had to curl my hand into a fist against her belly to keep myself from touching her.

From pulling her closer. From tugging her onto her back and sliding between her legs. From kissing her.

I adjust as I grow hard behind the zipper of my jeans, cursing again. I’d already relieved the pressure in the shower this morning to thoughts of her in my bed.

I’d known she was awake when I ran my lips over her shoulder. But the explosion of goosebumps and that little shiver she thought she hid—fuck me.

A low growl I’m relieved no one is here to witness slips out when I see Lilah reach out to touch her hand to the man’s shoulder. I don’t want her touching any man that isn’t me.

I don’t understand this new part of me. I don’t think I like it.

But she’s just so attractive. Not just in a physical sense, though there’s no denying that. She’s attractive in an emotional sense. In an intellectual sense. She’s just fucking attractive. And I don’t like the way he’s grinning at her.

Did he just let his eyes drop to her chest? Oh, fuck no.

Lilah laughs hard enough to throw her head back. Dark blonde waves glitter gold as they fall down the length of her back. I don’t think she’s ever laughed like this with me. Am I even capable of making her laugh like that?

I think I’m jealous. Again.

I hate this.

I turn from the window only to spin back around, unable to stop myself from watching her. She’s like a drug I just can’t quit. I finally understand addiction.

I scowl and startle as the door to my office swings open and Nash calls, “Honey, I’m home.”

I must not hide my scowl quick enough, because his head notches back and he asks, “What’s up?”

I stab my finger into the drawings, trying to cut whatever web has me in a stranglehold to this bloody woman. “Something’s off here.”

Nash’s hands find his hips as he strolls closer.

“Nothing is off. It’s perfection.” He gives the drawing a frown for only a second before his eyes follow mine to the image outside the window.

His grin spreads wide. “Oh, I see what’s off.

” He chuckles like the asshat he is. “I can’t fix that, though. ”

I’m about to lay into him when my cell rings on my desk. My eyes shift once more to Lilah and the man outside the window before I curse and move to close the small space between the table and my desk.

I grunt, “I need a bigger fucking office.” I swipe the phone from the desk and lift it to my ear. “Briggs here.”

“It’s Carson Powler,” the private detective I’d hired to look into Lilah’s claims of being swindled says. “I’ve got the information you wanted.”

Something in my gut burns. “And?”

“It’s a lot. Can we meet in person?”

“Tell me the gist of it now. Then we’ll meet.”

“She wasn’t lying,” he tells me, and that burn in my gut intensifies. My expression must darken, because Nash’s face gets hard and his stance widens as he crosses his arms over his chest, as though he’s ready for bad news. Ready to act on it.

“She was scammed by this Michael Pierce?”

“She was. But that’s not his name,” Carson says flatly.

“What is his name?”

“I still don’t know that.” Carson’s pitch drops to one of dark warning.

That burn in my gut boils hotter. “This man is dangerous, and he doesn’t work alone.

There’s a crew of four of them, and Lilah isn’t the first one they’ve conned.

The sister, Melody Pierce, runs her own romantic cons at the same time as Michael.

I believe they compete. I can’t find anything about the parents, other than their reported names are Trisha and Dillion Pierce.

I believe they are the financial brains behind the operation.

The group never takes more than eighty thousand dollars from one victim, the cons usually lasting between four and eight months.

Though there is evidence they are running more than one con within that timeframe.

They also don’t target wealthy individuals.

Most of the victims I’ve found who have made similar allegations to the police have filed the accusations stating they’ve had credit pulled in their name or been convinced to pull lines of credit that have then been pulled in cash. ”

“All this is happening under the Pierce name?” I ask coolly, though anger boils.

“They work under multiple aliases. I’ve pulled similar crimes in the province, though I’ve found a similar group working outside of Alberta as well.

I can’t be certain if they are connected, but if they are the operation may be far larger and more sophisticated than we think.

I recommend caution if you wish to proceed. ”

“I want to proceed. These people deserve to be behind bars.” I shove my hand through my hair.

“Lilah could be in danger if we proceed, and they trace my poking back to you. To her.”

“She’s safe with me,” I growl. Just the thought of someone hurting her has acid eating through the lining of my throat. My hand curls into a fist.

I think I could be dangerous, in the right scenario.

My gaze drifts again to the window, and I see her walking toward the barn. Toward my office. There’s a happy little skip in her step as she bounces in her sandals, the floral sundress she wears showing off far too much of her tan legs.

That male protectiveness I didn’t know I had surges inside me again. Yes, I could absolutely be dangerous in the right scenario. I could be dangerous for her.

“Keep looking. I want names.”

“Like I said, there’s more.”

“I’m free for lunch tomorrow.” I don’t want to meet Carson anywhere Lilah might catch wind. “I’ll make a drive into Kelowna.”

We agree on a place to meet, and I disconnect the call as Lilah steps into the makeshift office. The darkness in Nash’s expression vanishes fluidly from his face as he shoots her his winning grin. “Hey beautiful girl.”

Lilah rolls her eyes his way, correcting, “Woman, Nash. I am a woman.”

Nash shrugs and continues grinning, like she hasn’t corrected him multiple times already. She has. It’s why he keeps calling her a girl. The guy is relentless.

Lilah turns her eyes on me as the bag she carries over her shoulder slides down her arm.

She dips a hand inside to pull out a container.

The glass is fogged with condensation, but she says, “You never got any apple crisp last night. I thought you might like some now.” She wets her lips nervously, smiling sweetly. “I warmed it up before I left.”

I move to take the container. “Thank you.”

“Where’s mine?” Nash pouts. “I like apple cobbler.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m not marrying you.” Lilah shrugs helplessly, if a little cheekily. “So, I can’t promise I’ll always think to bring any for you.” She snaps her fingers as she gives him a smarty-pants squint. Her hand dives back into the bag. “Today, however, is your lucky day.”

Nash groans as another container makes an appearance. “You’re the best soon-to-be-wife a guy’s best friend can have.”

Lilah laughs. “You have Shana to thank. She thought of you.”

I don’t know why, but I’m a little relieved it was my mom who thought of Nash, and not my soon-to-be-wife. Fake wife. Ahh, fuck.

“Tell her I love her.” Nash cracks the lid and makes an obnoxious noise.

Lilah’s lips curl before she turns her eyes on me. She can’t possibly know how it feels. The things her gaze does to me. She asks, “How’s work?”

“It’s coming along.”

She nods, peeking at Nash who is entirely focused on gobbling down his crisp. She looks back to me, but says softer, “You left really early this morning.”

“No earlier than normal.”

She pulls her lip between her teeth, nodding softly. “Oh.” She releases her lip and those warm eyes fringed in long, dark lashes slam into mine. “You usually come back for coffee.”

She’s right. I do always return for coffee and breakfast with her. Today, I couldn’t bring myself to. If I had, I’d have lifted her over my shoulder and walked her straight back to my bed.

I clear my throat as I shove the image from my mind. “Did you miss me?”

I mean the words as a tease. It’s unusual for me, and I note the surprise in the upward flick of Nash’s gaze. She brings out the unusual in me.

Lilah doesn’t notice Nash’s surprise. She nods slowly. “I did.”

I don’t expect her answer. I don’t expect those two simple words or the slight hurt in her eyes to carve me raw.

All teasing vanishes from me as I step forward. I vow, “I won’t miss breakfast again.” She drops her chin to try and hide her eyes. I slide my finger under her chin, guiding her gaze to me. I repeat, “I won’t miss breakfast again, Lilah.”

“Okay.”

My voice softer, I tell her, “Thank you for the crisp.”

She nods, and I release her chin stepping back to give us both space. I don’t miss the way she shudders with a small shiver. If Nash wasn’t here, I think I’d pull her to me. “I should get back to your mom. We’re going to run into Sunrise Blooms for some more flowers.”

I feel my brows hike high on my face. “More?”

She smiles a sheepish grin. “Your back deck is awfully bare.”

“It’s not,” I mutter, but I’m sliding the crisp onto my desk to fish my wallet from my pocket. I pluck out my credit card and hand it to her.

She scowls. “What’s that for?”

“Whatever you want to buy.”

Nash makes a choking noise. Horror I don’t expect fills her eyes, but she doesn’t tear them from me. “You want me to take your credit card?”

“Yes.”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Lilah, you’re about to be my wife. I take care of my wife.”

Her eyes nearly bug from her head. She leans in and whisper-hisses between her teeth, “You can’t just fling that around, Briggs. And I’m not…I can’t…” She makes a noise of distress that tugs at my smirk.

Her eyes narrow.

I bite back my laugh. “You can. You will.” I drop the card into her bag. “Don’t lose it.”

“Briggs!”

“I need to get back to work, Lilah, if that’s all.”

Her jaw drops before it snaps back into place. I think her left eye twitches. She sniffs, spins abruptly around and stomps to the door. Then she stops, “I’m going to buy the biggest, most gaudy stone statue with that card.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Absolutely.” She gives me a perfunctory nod.

Hell, she’s cute.

I shoot her a wink. “Do your worst, little lunatic.”

The sound of frustration she makes as she mutters, “Oh, I will,” before she slams the door closed behind her is worth every last penny she spends.

Fuck, I love riling her up. I could make a living out of it. Call it riling Lilah.

Nash claps the lid on his empty crisp container. “Damn, man. Your balls are bigger than I thought.”

“I hope she uses it.”

Nash shakes his head, whistling low. “And you call her the lunatic.”

I chuckle as I move to the window to watch my woman stomp off. Then a pang hits me where it really shouldn’t.

She’s not mine, but I want her to be.

If she were really mine, I’d fill her with babies and build that picture-perfect happy life I never thought I’d have. If she were mine…

I pull out a stack of sticky notes and scribble, ‘kids’ area’ onto the neon orange pad. I peel it from the stack and slap it on the drawing, stabbing my fingertip into the center of it. “This is what we’re missing.”

Nash gives me another headshake. “You do know this is fake, right?”

I give him my eyes and tell him honestly, “Not anymore, it’s not.”

His brows lift. “Does she know that?”

“She will. In time.”