The Bluff (Calamity Montana)

HUX STARED at me like I was crazy.

Maybe I was. But for the first time in months, I saw a path forward. I wasn’t stuck. This was the next step and maybe the reason why I was destined to be here in Calamity. Maybe this was why I’d been suffering through limbo.

This, marrying Hux to help his daughter, was something I could do.

“No.” His voice brooked no argument.

I argued anyway. “Why not? It won’t mean anything. It’ll be fake.”

“Are you insane?”

“Probably,” I admitted.

He blinked, like he was trying to decide if this was real or a nightmare. “This is—this is . . . no. Aiden was kidding. I have no interest in getting married again. Or fake married. Ever.”

The way he spat ever was so vicious. His ex had done her best to break him. Bitch. “Your first marriage was the worst experience of your life, wasn’t it?”

“No, that would be prison.”

I hummed. “About that . . .”

I’d learned about Hux’s past from Lucy and Duke. Months ago, not long after the farmhouse, I’d been at their place having dinner. Travis and Savannah had come up in conversation, and I’d asked about Savannah’s parents.

That conversation had happened long before I knew Hux. Before I’d spent hours tracing the contours of his jaw with my tongue and running my hands up and down his chiseled body.

With all the sex and other distractions, I’d sort of forgotten that he’d spent time in prison for nearly beating a man to death. Or it just hadn’t mattered. It had happened so long ago, and Hux didn’t emit a hardened-criminal vibe. A grouch? Absolutely. But he’d never made me feel unsafe.

Still, before I jumped into a marriage, it would probably be a good topic to touch on.

“Was that prison stint a one-time thing?”

There was that blink again. “Uh . . . yeah.”

“Good. Because you look hot in blue, honey. But I’m not down with you in orange.”

Hux’s jaw slackened. Another blink. A headshake. Then the shock on his face disappeared, replaced by his signature scowl. No person could scowl quite like Hux.

It was a full-body scowl. His shoulders were ramrod straight. His legs were planted wide. His eyebrows formed this perfect slash, like a teacher’s harsh underline under a failing grade. Add to that the flat hold of his mouth and the tension in his jaw, he was not a happy camper.

“You lied to me.” His voice was harsh and accusing, like he thought this was my way of trapping him and reneging on our agreement. “I told you this was sex only.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I held up a hand. “Let’s not get carried away. This is not a romantic thing.”

“Uh-huh,” he deadpanned.

A laugh escaped. I couldn’t help it. This man was so terrified of commitment he was practically shaking. “Listen, I get that you’re averse to commitment. You’ve made that inescapably clear. But I told you from the start, I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Yet you’re willing to get married.”

“Fake married. There’s a difference.”

He wasn’t buying it.

“I’m assuming that guy who was here is your lawyer.”

Hux nodded. “He is.”

“Then your lawyer has a valid point. Savannah is a sixteen-year-old girl with an attitude but she’s cute as can be. You’re a single man who spent time in prison and—” I waved my hand up and down his body.

Hux looked down to his feet, then back at me. “And what?”

“This.” I waved my hand again. “You are all hard lines and angry glares. You don’t exactly radiate Mr. Rogers. I’d be skeptical about putting Savannah with you, and I just spent the night in your bed.”

Maybe it was because I’d spent the night in his bed that I was skeptical. This man was pure sin.

I shivered at the thought of him taking me from behind last night. God, it had felt so good to be handled, to be with a man who knew exactly when to flip the switch from gentle to rough.

The reason I’d come down here this morning before showering was to have another go with him. I’d slid out of bed and tugged on his shirt. But when I’d hit the stairs and heard voices, I’d considered giving him privacy.

I’d sat on the stairs and eavesdropped instead.

Hux huffed and threw up his hands. “Aiden was joking.”

“How could I forget when you keep reminding me? Maybe he said it as a joke. Except it kind of sounded like a really good idea.”

“Marriage is never a really good idea.”

I laughed again. Poor Hux. “This wouldn’t be a real marriage. This is a way to help get your daughter.”

“No.”

“Think about it.” I shoved off the counter and stepped to the island, moving closer. “You need to show the town of Calamity that you’re not just a brooding artist with a magnificent scowl and marginal social skills.”

His frown deepened.

“See?” I pointed to his face. “This is what I’m talking about. Seriously, Hux, you radiate pissed-off jerk. No one wants a jerk for a dad.”

As a woman who’d had a jerk for a father—a stuffy, inattentive jerk, but a jerk nonetheless—I could attest.

“This is . . .” He shook his head and spun away from me, walking into the adjoining living room. “No. I don’t need this shit. Get dressed. I’ll take you home.”

I ignored the order and went back to my coffee as he paced in front of a walnut coffee table.

If he didn’t want my help, fine. But before he kicked me out, I was going to at least get some caffeine in my system. So while he paced, I stood there and inspected his home, instantly picturing Savannah within these walls.

She’d liven up the space. It could use some added personality.

This wasn’t a new or large house but Hux had chosen quality pieces to fill the space. His couch was a plain, chocolate rawhide leather, its only charm coming from the natural scratches and wear patterns. The chair beside it was a lighter shade and nearly the size of a loveseat. The perfect seat to curl up with a good book.

There were only the two pieces, along with the coffee table. The space would accommodate another seat, but my guess was that Hux didn’t entertain a lot of visitors. The only person watching that large flatscreen was him.

The décor was masculine, much like his bedroom upstairs. The only light colors were the cream walls and white trim. Besides the maroon rug beneath the coffee table, there wasn’t much color either. My eyes darted to every wall. Each was bare.

“You don’t have any art.” Not even his own.

Hux stopped his pacing and looked at me, his hands fisting on his hips. “What?”

“You don’t have any of your own artwork. Why not?”

His eyes darted to the ceiling. “Are you going to shower?”

My invitation had expired.

I doubted I’d get another.

“Yeah.” I drained the rest of my coffee, then set the mug in the sink. I padded over the hardwood floors, passing Hux for the staircase. But before I could round the banister and disappear to collect my clothes from his bedroom floor, he stopped me.

“Why would you offer?”

“To marry you?”

He nodded.

“Reasons.” Reasons that didn’t matter since he’d shot me down. Reasons I didn’t fully understand myself. It was just an impulse. From the moment his lawyer had mentioned it, a feeling of purpose had swelled inside me.

A calling.

This. I could do this.

I’d had the same thing happen in college when Lucy had told me she was moving to Nashville. She’d asked me to come along and I’d known, to the essence of my being, I could do it.

“Give me one of them,” Hux said.

“It will help Savannah.”

“I didn’t realize you cared so much about my daughter.”

“We went through something horrific together.” And it was my fault.

I’d led the stalker to Calamity. Whatever wounds that incident had inflicted on the girl were on me. I had to live with that guilt, but if there was something I could do to make it easier for her, then I’d do it.

Savannah reminded me so much of myself at that age. Lonely. Lost. An outsider in my own home. I’d been able to run away to Lucy’s for an escape. Savannah deserved to find her own sanctuary and maybe that safe place was with Hux.

From the sounds of it, the cards were stacked against him. I had the power to even the scales. Maybe not balance them completely. It was going to take a lot for a judge to look beyond the past. But I could help.

“It might not work,” he said. “Even with a wife or a better reputation around town, it might not make a damn bit of difference.”

“You won’t know if you don’t try.”

He hung his head. “This is insanity.”

My breath caught. Was that a yes? It almost sounded like a yes.

Until he raised his chin and leveled me with a penetrating gaze. “I don’t buy it.”

“Buy what?”

“Your reason for offering to marry me. Yeah, you and Savannah went through some shit at the farmhouse. But you could help her through it without marrying her father. Mentor her at school or something. Do what Duke does for Travis, just be in her life. You don’t need to be my wife for that.”

Suspicious much? “All true. Like I said, I have reasons.”

“Give me another.”

“Maybe I’m bored.”

“Not a reason to get married. Try again.”

He was asking me to open a window to my soul. To talk about my parents and my past and my feelings and . . . no. My reasons were mine. Hux wasn’t going to agree to this anyway, so my reasons for offering to help him were none of his damn business. “Let’s be done talking about this.”

“Fine,” he clipped.

I started up the stairs, muttering, “I don’t know why I’m trying to convince you of this anyway. I’m not the one who needs to improve their image.”

“What did you say?”

I stopped. “I said that I’m not going to convince you of this. It sounded like you were stuck. I offered to help. That’s all. I don’t have a problem with my image around town. I don’t need a judge’s approval. But I get it. You don’t want a woman. You don’t want a wife, not a real one or a fake one. Discussion over.”

Typical Hux, he assumed his scowl.

And I went upstairs, stripped off his shirt and pulled on my clothes from yesterday. I’d shower when I got back to my apartment.

Hux was waiting by the door wearing a gray jacket and a black beanie that covered his hair.

I swallowed a groan. The beanie was sexy. It made his sooty eyelashes darker. It gave him a rugged edge. I would definitely let him screw me wearing that beanie. Too bad any and all future bedroom escapades were off the table.

When he dropped me off today, I doubted I’d see Hux again.

All because I’d opened my damn mouth and offered to be his wife.

We didn’t speak as he led me into the garage. He focused on the road as he drove. I kept my gaze out the passenger window. The tension mounted, growing block after block, and when he turned on First, I knew it was my last chance to clear the air.

“Look, I only wanted to help.” I sighed. “I don’t want you to think I was offering marriage because I have any delusions of what is happening here. You and I are—were—purely physical. This wasn’t something I thought to trap you with.”

“’Kay,” he deadpanned.

He didn’t believe me? Gah. This man was infuriating. Did he trust no one?

“I like Savannah,” I said. “She reminds me of me when I was that age. Stubborn but soft. She wants to pretend like she’s got it all figured out but deep down, she’s scared. She’s unsure, though she’ll never admit it.”

Hux remained silent, though his shoulders slumped a fraction of an inch. Because he knew I was right about his kid.

“I don’t have much going for me,” I admitted. “Honestly, I’m in limbo. My career as a singer is over. I left my home in Nashville. I grew up in New York and have no desire to return. So I’m here. But not really sure what my next step is. When I heard your lawyer joke about this, I just thought . . .”

What the hell had I been thinking?

Marriage? To a stranger? Limbo was not the time for me to be making major life decisions.

Except it didn’t seem major. My parents’ marriage had always been more like a business relationship. They were more passionate about their accounting firm than they were about love or sex.

They might have skewed my perception of marriage, but this thing with Hux could be similar. He’d improve his chances to win his daughter. I’d have a purpose—temporary, but a purpose.

“Thought what?” Hux asked.

“I thought it would give me something to do. Until I figured out what direction to go, this would be better than hiding in my apartment, watching the world instead of participating in it.”

Hux pulled up to the curb in front of my building. “It’s just—”

“Too crazy.”

He nodded. “You don’t know me. You don’t want to.”

“I know enough.” I gave him a sad smile.

Hux wasn’t a villain. Emotionally unavailable, but not a bad guy.

“Take care, Hux.” I leaned across the cab and brushed a kiss to his stubbled cheek, dragging in one last inhale of his intoxicating scent. Spice and soap and paint. I doubted I’d ever be able to smell paint again and not think of him. Then I got out of the truck and disappeared inside my building.

The rumble of his engine was gone before the door closed at my back.

Alone again.

“That was an interesting morning.” I laughed to myself and trudged upstairs to the apartment where I took a shower, leaving my long hair to air dry. Then I crawled into bed, yawning to the ceiling, but even after snuggling deep into my pillow, I couldn’t find sleep.

What better way to spend a Friday than clean?

I worked with fury through most of the day, refusing to go to the window and look outside. I didn’t want to see Hux’s truck in front of the gallery. I didn’t want to see the gallery period.

Because as I dusted, vacuumed and scrubbed, the morning played over and over in my mind. With each loop, the embarrassment grew. My cheeks were hot with shame.

Goddamn it.

I’d basically begged that man to marry me. I mean, I hadn’t dropped to my knees and pleaded, but there was nothing about what had happened this morning that didn’t make me look like the crazy woman who’d heard the word marriage and jumped all over it like the only single bridesmaid during the bouquet toss.

“I don’t even want to get married!” I cried to no one as I furiously polished the stainless-steel fridge.

At least, not right now. Someday, I wanted a family of my own. But I was in no place for a real relationship at the moment. Maybe that was why I’d suggested it. Reese Huxley was not real husband material. I’d dodged a bullet.

Yet he had rejected me. And it had been surprisingly painful.

What the actual fuck?

It wasn’t about me. I took my polish to the dishwasher, buffing it to a shine. That rejection wasn’t about me. Hux would have rejected anyone. Knowing that didn’t ease the sting.

My phone rang on the counter and I picked it up. Dad. Uh-oh. What had I done now? “Hey, Dad.”

Keyboard clicks rang in the background.

“Hello?”

More typing.

“Dad.”

Nothing.

“Dad!”

“Everly?” he asked, coming on the line. “Strange. I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

“Because you called me.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” I drawled.

“Oh, sorry. I must have just hit the wrong name.” And without another word, he ended the call. Probably to call the right name.

“And it’s a wonder why I didn’t go home for Christmas.”

Assholes. Two rejections from two different men on the same day was enough to send my cleaning into overdrive.

My apartment wasn’t big. The studio was one open room with windows only along the front wall. The bathroom, tucked beside the kitchen, was the only space with a door. But with nothing else to do, I made the place sparkle.

The duct work in the open industrial ceiling got dusted. I shined every inch of glass. I cleaned the inside of the fridge. I color coordinated my rolling rack of clothes.

I spent the day doing anything and everything to feel productive.

It didn’t work.

For the first time in months, limbo felt weak. It felt childish. It felt . . . hopeless.

With the scent of bleach, glass cleaner and furniture polish in the air, I finally put away my sponges and rags to plop down on the couch and open my laptop. Job hunting was up next.

Nothing new had popped up since I’d searched the other day. The only new listing required a bachelor’s degree.

“The grocery store it is.” I could cashier there until something else opened up. If something else opened up. If they hired me. I groaned and clutched my twisting stomach. What if they didn’t hire me? What if I was the worst candidate in their pool?

What if the problem wasn’t the Calamity job market, but me?

My fingers hovered over the keys and my heart lurched as I let them type in the search bar.

Jobs in New Orleans.

If Calamity’s job pool was too small, Montana might not be the place for me. The idea of leaving Lucy behind made my heart ache, but she had Duke and, soon, their baby. She might be my only true family in this world, but that didn’t mean we had to live in the same town.

New Orleans might be fun. I’d never been there but Mardi Gras was on my bucket list.

The list of available positions for a woman with few qualifications was surprisingly long. The hourly rates were droolworthy.

I’d just clicked on a position with a clothing company when a knock came at the door. I set my laptop aside and crossed the room. It was probably Kerrigan. She often came upstairs to say hello whenever she was downtown. Maybe she’d be up for a Friday afternoon cocktail, because I sure as hell could use one.

But when I checked the peephole, it wasn’t Kerrigan on the other side.

It was Hux.

“Hey.” I opened the door and stepped aside so he could come in, but he stayed rooted to his spot beyond the threshold.

“Were you serious?”

As I’d cleaned, I’d tried to convince myself that Hux’s rejection was a good thing. But with him so close, still wearing that sexy-as-fuck beanie, I knew my earlier efforts had been futile.

I would marry Hux.

“Yes.”

He ran a hand over his jaw, then gave me the tiniest of nods. “Okay.”

My stomach dropped. Oh. My. God.

Holy fuck.

I was getting married.