Honeymoon Phase By Amy Daws Read Free Chapter 13

Addison

“Oh my God, what is that on your face?” I burst out laughing as I climb into Luke’s truck outside the lumberyard on a sunny Friday afternoon.

“Does it look stupid?” my best friend asks, glancing at himself in the rearview mirror. He runs his fingers over the hair on his upper lip. “I can shave it off if you think it’s awful.”

I turn in my seat to fully take it in as Luke pulls out of the lot, self-consciously touching his face now that I’ve literally pointed and laughed at him. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, I was just . . . not expecting this on a man only thirty-three years old. I’m used to old man mustaches like my dad’s or the yard guys. Those mustaches are stained by coffee and frozen with snot in the cold winter months. Or I guess I’ve seen those weird swirly hipster mustaches on some bartenders in town, or the obvious creepy pornstaches.

But on Luke? This mustache? I squint as I take in the sight of him again. I hate to admit it, but I think it’s working for him. It’s got this rustic, effortless quality to it. Thick and sloped downward on his upper lip with a little bit of playful character to it. It’s giving confident, mature, masculine. His beard did that too, but this makes Luke stand out a bit from his brothers. A little . . . originality. A thirty-three-year-old has to be confident to rock a ’stache, right?

“I’m not mad at it,” I state with my voice rising in pitch dramatically. My eyes drop to his square jaw where he has four stitches etched into the front of his chin. “I’ve just never seen your chin before so it took a second to adjust.”

“They had to shave my chin in the ER and asked if I wanted to keep the ’stache. I was a little loopy on muscle relaxers when I said yes but it’s growing on me.” He rubs his face and a flush of color darkens his cheeks as I blatantly inspect him.

I smile and then frown as I continue my ogling, only to balk at what he’s wearing. “You’re dressed up,” I state accusingly as I take in his tan slacks, white shirt, and brown dress shoes.

“Well, we have an appointment to get married,” he says, adjusting his collar.

“I know, but it’s not real,” I reply with a frown.

“I know, but we’re going to see your dad afterward, so I want to look respectable,” he says, cutting me a look. “Plus I wasn’t sure if we’d need to take pictures or something.”

“Well, shit,” I exclaim, glancing down at my work jeans and dirty Converse. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You look great.” Luke waggles his brows playfully and I shove him in the shoulder.

“Go to my house, I need to change.”

With a heavy sigh, Luke turns on the next road and makes his way to my side of town. When he pulls up in front of my building, he says, “Our appointment with the clerk is in twenty minutes, so you better hurry.”

“I’ll be freaky fast!” I call out as I hop out of his truck and run up the steps to my apartment, already knowing what I’m going to wear because I was cataloging my whole wardrobe on the way here. I have the perfect outfit that was a bit of an impulse purchase last year after I became obsessed with Caitlin Clark. She’s a former Iowa Hawkeye basketball player who wore this stunning Prada outfit to the WNBA draft. I found a dupe of it and bought it without having a single place to wear it because I still had to have it. And weirdly, I feel like it’s been waiting for this occasion.

It’s a white satin blazer with a matching miniskirt and underneath I have this loose, cropped rhinestone top. It’s a little sexy with a little class—a combo I enjoy on the rare occasions I have to get dressed up. Since I hate wearing heels, I finish the ensemble with my black platform Converse that don’t look like they’ve been worn around a lumberyard all day. Taking a few minutes in the bathroom, I add a bit of mascara and blush and spray myself with some perfume before unclipping my hair and rifling my fingers through it, then I finally rush out the door and back into Luke’s truck.

I buckle up and yank the mirror down to add a touch of lip gloss. “What are you waiting for?” I ask, when I notice he still hasn’t pulled away from my building.

I turn and find him staring slack-jawed at me. “You just had that outfit lying around?”

“Do you think it’s too much for the clerk’s office?” I glance down at my exposed legs that probably would have looked ten times better with some shimmery lotion.

“No, it’s not too much. It’s perfect. You look . . .” Luke clears his throat and I glance up to see him blinking rapidly. “You look beautiful, Roe.”

My chin trembles at that very sweet, very heartfelt compliment. “I was just trying to rise to your level, man. You clean up good, Fletcher.”

One perk to Luke losing his beard? I can see him blush. And that boy is flaming red as he puts the truck in Drive and makes his way to the clerk’s office to marry me. Who knew I had to marry my best friend to get him to stop being mad at me? What a sap.

Ten minutes later, Luke is pulling into a parking spot of the county clerk building and he holds a finger up to me as he hops out of the vehicle, rushing over to my side of the vehicle to open my door.

What a move.

He holds his hand out to me to help me out of his truck, his eyes dropping to my legs briefly before flashing back up to my face. Now I feel like my cheeks are suddenly really hot too. This whole moment reminds me of Mexico all over again. We’re like two weirdos not used to seeing each other in nonwork clothes and forgetting how to behave like civilized adults.

As we walk the tall flight of concrete steps up into the old building, Luke asks, “So are you going to keep your apartment, then?”

“Yes, I’m going to keep my apartment. Why? What do you mean?”

Luke opens the door to the building and steps back. “I mean, paying rent for a whole year at a place you’re not living in seems like a waste, no?”

“I guess so,” I reply, considering that thought. “I don’t really want to lose it though.”

“Maybe you can sublease?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I reply as we make our way through security.

We probably should have sat down and ironed out some of the specifics of this arrangement beyond the prenup, which I emailed him after he got home from the ER. I paid a lawyer a pretty penny to draw up a contract that basically says we leave with what we came into the marriage with, so whomever I marry can’t retroactively decide he wants half the lumberyard.

Not that I’d worry about Luke ever doing that. But when I was trying to find guys on Tinder to marry . . . hell yes, I needed a legal, binding contract. I need to protect my family legacy as well as myself.

We follow the signs to the clerk’s office and check in for our appointment, not even able to sit down before being called to the desk to fill out the paperwork. Colorado is a self-solemnizing state, meaning we don’t need witnesses or a judge or an officiant of any sort to get legally married. In my research, I actually discovered that Colorado is the easiest state to get married quickly in. We just fill out some paperwork, show our IDs, pay the thirty-dollar marriage certificate fee, sign our names, and that’s that. We are man and wife.

“Will you be changing your name?” the clerk asks me, her tone flat. “If so, I can get you those forms as well.”

“Oh . . . um . . .” I look to Luke with wide eyes. “I forgot about this.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need to mess with that, do you?”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. You don’t care, right?”

“Why would I?” Luke asks and I feel weirdly rejected, but obviously that’s the right answer. He’s already signed my predrafted prenup and we’re going to dissolve the marriage in a year, so no need to go through the headache of a name change just to change it back.

“Keeping my name,” I reply to the clerk.

“Okay, then I just need you two to sign here.”

I feel Luke’s eyes on me as I sign first and then I watch him nervously as he signs next.

“Would you like me to notarize this today?”

“Um . . . yes?” I state with a frown. “Why wouldn’t we.”

“Well, you have thirty-five days to file your marriage license if you want to wait.”

“We don’t want to wait,” Luke says immediately, taking the words right out of my mouth.

“Great. I’ll head to the back to get this notarized, then. It will be just a moment.”

“We need you to notarize this as well please,” I say, handing over the prenup.

She eyes it and compares Luke’s signature before nodding. “I’ll be right back.”

She disappears and Luke and I stand at the counter all dressed up in the drab county clerk’s office.

“It’s wild we’re actually doing this,” I state, trying to fill the silence.

“My family is going to lose it.” Luke blinks back his disbelief.

“Are you sure you want to keep the secret from all of them?” I ask as I think about our text exchange from yesterday. “The fact that this is just a temporary thing is kind of a big secret to keep. And you’re already so close with your family.”

Luke’s jaw goes tight as he shakes his head. “If I tell my mom this isn’t real she will make it her life’s mission to figure out how to make it real.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, and my niece is a self-proclaimed matchmaker so she can’t be trusted either.”

“Yikes.”

“We’re better off faking it with them or they’ll just make our lives miserable.”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “You’re really not doing a good job selling Fletcher Mountain right now.”

Luke’s brown eyes snap up to meet mine and he reaches out to grab my hand in reassurance. “Oh, don’t worry, Roe. You’ll love it up there. Fletcher Mountain . . .” He pauses for a moment before adding, “It feels like finding a secret that the whole world should know about, but you’re the only lucky one.”

I smile as he begins rattling off all the things he loves about living up there with his brothers and I try to focus on the fact that this is just for a year. I can do anything for a year. Even maybe, possibly, make friends with his brothers’ significant others.

I just hope everyone doesn’t hate me when Luke and I have to end this in a year. That is yet another thing I didn’t consider.

But the lumberyard is the rest of my life. I have to do this. I just hope Luke will help me manage the fallout with his family that’ll come when our one year is up.

Alternatively, they might be relieved I’m out of Luke’s way so he can find his true soulmate.

That thought causes a pit to form in my stomach, but I’m distracted when the clerk returns, waving the papers in the air excitedly before sliding them across the counter to us.

She smiles. “Forgive me but I never get to do this part.” She clears her throat dramatically. “Luke Fletcher and Addison Monroe . . . I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

I smile and feel that happiness deep in my bones. I know I wanted a stranger, I know I wanted this to feel like a business deal and detached. But there’s something really special about how my best friend would do all this for me. And right now, I can’t recall a single reason why I was so determined not to accept Luke’s proposals. He really is one of the good ones, and that song is playing on repeat in my head as I smile up at him like a goof.

“You can now kiss your bride.”

“What was that?” I ask, turning my ear toward the woman and she yanks me out of eye-fucking my best friend.

“You can now kiss your bride!” The woman stares at us expectantly and we both hesitate. Shit. I forgot about this part too. God, what the fuck is wrong with me?

“We don’t have to.” Luke smiles politely at the clerk. “She’s weird about PDA.”

“No, it’s fine,” I exclaim and Luke’s head swings around to stare at me in surprise. I’m a little surprised too, but I’ve never really minded touching Luke. He’s different. He’s safe. But kissing him? The idea of it has me spiraling. Best friends aren’t supposed to kiss . . . then again, platonic best friends don’t usually get married either. And above my little physical touch hesitations, I feel overwhelmed with gratitude. I’m grateful for my friend and this moment and the future he just helped me lock in and I want to show him that. We’re adults here. It’s no big deal to give your friend a quick kiss of appreciation. Right?

I step closer to Luke with a smile. “We should. This is it. We finally did it!” I laugh awkwardly and my hands tremble as I reach up and cup his face, my fingers tingling against the light stubble of his freshly shaven jaw.

His brows furrow down at me, his eyes searching mine for something I’m not sure of. I bite my lip, realizing I’ve never noticed the gold flecks Luke has in his eyes before. I always thought they were just chocolate brown, but they’re not. They’re brown with honey mixed in. They’re captivating. His lips aren’t bad either. At least his lower lip. His upper is hard to see under the hot guy ’stache, but that lower one. It looks good. Very kissable.

I inhale sharply when Luke steps in closer to me, his hands finding my waist, and I get that same feeling I had at the lumberjack competition when he held me in front of Ivan. As mad as I was at him for that, I can’t deny how it felt. Luke makes me feel good. Respected . . . and maybe even a little bit naughty when he’s looking at me the way he is right now.

Before I lose my nerve, I stand up on my tiptoes and lift my lips to my best friend’s, fusing our mouths together in what I expect to be a platonic, no-heat, chaste type of kiss. The kind of kiss you give to your grandma, if you’re the kind of family who kisses their grandma on the lips. I’m certainly not. I would definitely never kiss my grandma the way I’m kissing Luke.

A noise vibrates in his chest and I feel him angle his head to the side to meet my lips more fully.

I’m kissing my friend for the first time in all the years I’ve known him.

I’ve kissed Luke on the cheek a good number of times. Countless hugs, shoves, hits, and maybe even an occasional brief snuggle.

But never anything like this.

I inhale a trembling breath as his lips part and move ever so slightly against mine, timid but present. Firm, but gentle. So very Luke. A perfect blend of good and bad. Happy and mad. Comforting and infuriating. I meet his energy and move my lips with his as my hands roam off his face and back into his hair. My fingers widen as I comb through his shaggy length, feeling my body arch so we’re flush against each other.

I want more but I also know this is Luke. My friend. The man who’s doing me a massive favor by marrying me so I can take over my dad’s company. He should most definitely not be a man whose lips are making me wonder what a mustache ride might actually feel like.

That horrific intrusive thought has my brain flashing back to reality like an explosion and I quickly yank away, untwining my hands from Luke’s hair to cover my mouth in pure shock, my lips tingling at the loss of him.

Luke blinks back at me, lips parted, eyes burning with a look that I have never seen before. A look that has me squeezing my thighs together and biting my lip so hard, I could cry.

“That’ll do it,” the clerk says, her head propped on her hand as she stares starry-eyed at us. “You two are going to be very happy, I can tell.”

I burst out into nervous laughter and Luke joins me, both of us flustered and avoiding eye contact as we turn away from each other, because what the actual fucking fuck was that?

The lady slides all of our papers into a folder and we walk out of there with a notarized prenup, a marriage license, and one more stop to make. Hopefully we can keep our hands to ourselves at this stop or we both might be in very big trouble.