Page 166 of The Wrong Husband

"Only because I’m enjoying it, too." Connor gives me a look which can only be described as sultry.

I can’t stop smiling because everything feels so easy between us. And yet, there’s this undercurrent of chemistry between us that turns every interaction into a game. A very sexy, very arousing, and very stimulating game.

The sound of a phone vibrating reaches us. We turn in Brody’s direction to find he’s pulled out his phone. He checks it, then groans. "The old man is at it again."

"What does Arthur want?" Connor asks in resignation.

"Another excuse to get everyone together. This one, to mark your safe return and also, because he never got to throw the two of you a wedding celebration."

57

A month later

Connor

"He wants us to play…croquet?" I pause on the patio of Arthur’s villa in Primrose Hill. On the sprawling lawn in the backyard which faces the expanse of the Hill, is a set up with six mallets of different colors.

Six corresponding balls, six hoops—which is what they call the metal arches the ball passes through, and one center peg, or the stake, placed at the far end of the lawn, which in this case, doubles up as the court.

"Croquet?" Brody’s jaw drops.

"Cro-fucking-quet?" James, who’s walked in behind us, scowls.

"Croquet? How charming." My wife beams at the setup.

She no longer has dark circles under her eyes. Her shoulders are no longer tense. I attribute that to my doing my duty as her husband and making sure I make sweet love to her every night.

Thanks to the money I donated to the ER, there’s a new crop of residents to help carry Phe’s load in the trauma bay. She no longer has to worry about the ER closing, either. I’m chuffed I was partly responsible for that too.

Anything I can do to make her life easier gets priority.

She’smy priority.

"The old man expects us to play croquet as some kind of bonding exercise?” Brody scratches at his whiskered chin. “It’s fucking irritating, is what it is.”

"Everything okay?" I eye him closely.

His eyes are bloodshot. He hasn’t shaved. His hair is standing up on end like he’s run his fingers through the strands. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look this disheveled.

"It’s been brutal at work. My assistant managed to keep things going while I was away, but since I’ve been back, she seems to be distracted. Enough that I have to pick up the slack.” He yawns.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

He draws himself up to his full height, then pushes his forefinger into my chest. “Firstly, you’d have done the same. And secondly—” He smirks. “This way, you owe me one.”

“Anytime, Brother.” I hold up my hand, and he squeezes.

We half hug, slap each other on the back.

“You must have an exceptional assistant if she kept the company running in your absence,” my wife remarks.

“Hmm.” He cracks his neck. “She was only doing her job. But you’re right, I should probably give her a raise.”

Phe’s forehead furrows. “You should definitely let her know how much you appreciate her contribution. Good employees are hard to come by.”

“What’s she going to do, leave?” His voice is light, but a troubled expression flits across his features.

My wife and I exchange a glance. Brody has a good heart, but between his cavalier attitude to finding love and his brush off when it comes to his assistant, I have a feeling my brother has some tough lessons to learn.