She said she’s always known she had sugar running through her veins because managing the bakery makes her happier than anything else.
I look to where Aurora is busily making a drink that is topped with what looks like whipped cream and cinnamon.
I may have to break out of my routine and go for one of those today.
As soon as she spots me, her face lights up. “Trina! Hey!”
I raise a hand to wave at her from the back of the line. “How are you?”
“Busy,” she replies with a chuckle. “I’ve missed you. I stopped by your apartment last night, but you weren’t home. Did you have a hot date?”
Both women in front of me, who are waiting to place their orders, turn to look.
I smile at them and shrug. “No hot date. No date at all.”
It comes out sounding way more awkward than I intend.
Aurora hands the beverage she prepared to a man in a suit before she replies, “I guess that was wishful thinking on my part. Given how many brothers and sisters you have, you must have been hanging out with one of them.”
I tell myself that I’m not lying to her if I don’t say another word on the subject.
I wait patiently while she prepares the orders of the two women in line in front of me.
One approaches me after she picks up her latte. “If you’re single, I have a brother you should meet. I can give you his number.”
I laugh that off. “I’m sure he’s great, but I’m not looking for anything right now.”
“She’s taking some me time.” Aurora curls her fingers to toss air quotes around the last two words. “That means no he time.”
“I like that,” the woman says, grinning. “I should try that sometime.”
“And I should try something new,” I begin before I wink at Aurora as I approach the counter. “I’ll have something decadent with whip cream and cinnamon on top. Make it two. I want to surprise my sister.”
“You’ve got it.” Aurora snatches up a paper cup to write my name on the side. “Do you have time for a quick visit before you head to Brooklyn? My break is in five minutes.”
“I have all day,” I say happily.
I plan on savoring the next few hours before I go back to the penthouse.
“Perfect.” Aurora beams. “I’ll make your drink, and then after we chat, I’ll whip up something extra special for Clara.”
With a belly full of blueberry cobbler and a heart filled with happiness after spending two hours at the bakery with one of my sisters, I slide my wedding rings back on.
Adjusting the diamond so it’s centered on my finger, I sigh.
I’d never admit it to my husband, but I’m getting used to wearing the rings. When I get married for real one day, I already know that I’ll never take my rings off.
I sense that they add an extra level of bonding between couples who have devoted themselves to each other for the right reasons.
Unlike Graham and I.
Our marriage is meant to pull the wool over someone’s eyes, someone I admire and respect.
“Mrs. Locke,” Eugene calls to me as I approach the lobby doors. “How are you, this fine Saturday?”
I perk an eyebrow. “You work on weekends?”
“Every second Saturday,” he explains as he reaches for the curved steel handle of one of the lobby doors. “The trade-off is that I get to spend Monday with my wife.”
I breeze past him. “That sounds like it works out well.”
“You know it,” he says.
Shoving a hand in the front pocket of my jeans, I tug out a five dollar bill and offer it to him. “Thank you, Eugene.”
He waves it away with a swat of his hand in the air. “Your husband told me earlier today that I’m not to accept any more tips from his beautiful wife.”
I reach for his hand and tuck the money into his palm. “It’s our little secret then.”
His face beams with a bright smile. “I’ll keep it to myself.”
“Is he home?” I question as Eugene walks next to me through the lobby. “He was going into the office for at least part of the day.”
“He left with Mr. Abdon a couple of hours ago.” He drops the volume of his voice. “I’ve been at my post since, and they haven’t snuck past me.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I nod my head. “That gives me time to freshen up before they get back.”
“Not that you need it.” He winks. “If I haven’t mentioned it, you’re a breath of fresh air, Mrs. Locke. It’s good to see Mr. Locke happy.”
My head snaps in Eugene’s direction as he pushes the elevator call button. “He’s happy?”
He leans a touch closer to me. “Just between us, your husband didn’t always stop to say hello when he arrived home.”
“He does now?”
“Each and every time.” He nods. “It seems that you brought some much needed sunshine into his life.”
Even though I’m well aware that my husband would never acknowledge that, I like knowing it.
Chapter Twenty
Graham
I’d say this is a sight for sore eyes, but it’s more apt to call it a sight for my aching dick.
My wife is sporting jean cut-offs and a light blue T-shirt as she naps on one of the uncomfortable couches in my living room.
This is not the outfit she had on when she took off out of her earlier. I should know. I thought she looked amazing in the jeans and sweater she was wearing then.
This getup she’s in now is next level.
I’ve never considered myself a leg man, but goddammit, Trina’s legs are fucking perfection. They are long, tanned, and bent slightly at the knees as she rests on her side with her hands tucked beneath her face.
“Look at that angel,” Lloyd whispers as he points at the vision in front of us. “I think you married up, Bull.”
I didn’t just marry up. I married a woman who is better than me in every possible way.
She stirs slightly.
“Carry her to bed,” he demands. “Scoop up your bride and take her to bed.”
My head snaps in his direction. “What?”
“Do it,” he urges with an elbow in my rib cage. “You two could use a few moments alone before dinner.”
I catch the wink he sends my way.
If I’m not mistaken, he’s telling me in a not so discreet way to take my wife to the bedroom for a late afternoon fuck.
I’m game, but since Trina and I are married for all the wrong reasons, that’s not going to happen.
She told me to my face that I’m not her type.
I still highly doubt that, but now is not the time to dwell on whether or not Miss Shaw finds me as fuckable as I find her.
“Let’s leave her be,” I suggest so I can get the hell out of this room.
I want to jump into a cold shower and conjure up a mental image of anything other than my wife.
“Why?” Lloyd perks both of his graying brows. “Your bed has to be more comfortable than that couch.”
The floor is more comfortable than that couch, as is the concrete sidewalk in front of the building.