Desperately Seeking Househusband Read online

  I hung up and slid the phone back in my bag before looking back at Rhett. Time to end his misery and mine, moving onto the drinking and drowning my sorrows portion of the evening.

  “Look, you don’t—”

  “I’ll do it.” The words rushed out of his mouth, startling us both, based on his wide eyes and lack of dimples.

  My head listed to the side as I tried to figure this guy out. Would a sane person agree to this job? Maybe I should ask a coworker instead. At least I could vouch for their sanity. I mean, what did I really know about Rhett other than his dimples caused my girly parts to stand up and twerk?

  Rhett leaned forward again, crowding my space. “When do they start filming?”

  “Eighteen days,” I answered, in a trance of indecision. I’d been counseled to make decisions with my head and other times my heart, but never had anyone advised me about listening to my vagina. Was she a good decision maker? Or would she lead me down the wrong path with her lusty ways and single-minded focus?

  Rhett nodded vigorously. “Look, we don’t have much time to get this together and make it look believable. Let’s just do this and while we get ready you can explain to me why you’re hiring a fake boyfriend.”

  Ultimately, I didn’t listen to my head, heart, or vagina. I said yes because I liked the way he said “we.” I’d been stressing since the moment I hung up with the director and it felt pretty damn good to have a partner in this crime. Like a validation of sorts. My idea wasn’t crazy. Look, this guy was going along with it too!

  So I put my hands on his forearms and gave them a little stroke as I got distracted by the way his muscles felt under that warm skin of his. He glanced down at my hands and I froze, realizing belatedly that touching like that probably wasn’t the best way to start this platonic working relationship. I snatched my hands back and folded them on my lap.

  “You’re hired.” I nodded and let my heart dance in my chest when he broke out into a huge smile, dimples and all.

  3

  Rhett

  I’d been checking her out for over an hour by the time Nipple Boy left in a huff. At first, it was only because she was freaking gorgeous with that straight black hair and perfect red nails. So put together yet clearly exasperated with the men she interviewed. I thought she was doing some sort of speed dating thing, so I had a seat next to her when a table opened up.

  You see, life’s too short to go around all serious all the time. I made it a habit a long time ago to search out the funny. The crazy moments in life. The weird quirkiness of humans that made life interesting. By twenty-eight years of age, it came naturally. I had stories you wouldn’t believe, but they made for good entertainment around a campfire or over a beer.

  As one could only expect, when you see a train wreck of a speed dating situation happening, you got up close to that shit and took in the free entertainment. Porn stars, third nipples, and that one guy who could roll his eyes back in his head and make himself pass out. Freaky. These people were interesting and I had a front row seat.

  Of course, I had to open my damn mouth and get to the bottom of this mystery. Why would a beautiful woman, who seemingly had her shit together, based on the well-kept hair, nails, and clothes, need a speed dating event to get a date? I expected rolled eyes, maybe even some shifting away from me and then a hasty exit. What I got was a stimulating word play game about nipples, which proved this chick had a sense of humor. Then I got lost in her flashing dark eyes, the kind that make you stare like a mesmerized fool. Finally, she dashed my speed dating concerns with a plea for a man to fill a work position.

  And boy was I ready to fill that position.

  Here’s the kicker: I knew her. She didn’t know me, but I sure as hell knew who she was the second she answered that phone with her full name. There was absolutely no way I could tell her who I was until I’d secured this job. I was sick of eating Ramen, okay? A little white lie wasn’t going to matter in the grand scheme of things. She was desperate and quite frankly, so was I. Match made in heaven.

  She slid a stack of papers toward me and laid a pen down on top. “Read through the contract and if you still want the job, you’ll need to sign that. I’ll do a background check later this evening and if all checks out, I’ll sign it also and send it to you.”

  I forced my eyes to look down at the paper instead of memorizing every inch of her visible to my gaze. I wanted to know each detail about her. Not in some creepy sex offender way, but knowing her name didn’t gel with the gorgeous vision that sat in front of me. Despite knowing who she was, she was a mystery.

  The contract was fairly standard, like she’d cut and pasted paragraphs from another contract. I wasn’t a contract wizard by any means, but it was obvious this thing hadn’t been run by a lawyer first. Take clause seventeen about no time off for three months. It literally said I’d be working twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Pretty sure sweatshops were against the law by now, and even though my college party days had prepped me for very little sleep, I didn’t think I could go months on end with no shuteye.

  The thing is, I had no assets. Well, I had some cool T-shirts that were probably vintage classics, but I didn’t think the stuffy bank guys would bother with them. So if I had to break this contract, she could sue me all she wanted and she wouldn’t get a dime out of me. Gabby, on the other hand, looked like she had some money stashed somewhere and it probably wasn’t in her bra. That bag of hers, placed so carefully on her feet, had a designer label you didn’t find at Ross Dress For Less. If anyone had something to lose, it was this chick.

  I scribbled my signature across the last page, along with my social security number, and handed it back to her. She put the contract in her bag and flicked her jet-black hair over her shoulder before clearing her throat.

  “Okay. Well, that’s done. Um, okay. I’ll call you tomorrow. Is that okay?”

  Her nervousness was adorable. Keeping a grin in check was getting harder. “Okay.”

  She froze for a second, maybe wondering if I’d just teased her—which I had—and then stood, pulling on her blouse and trousers. A sheepish grin stretched across her face.

  “Sorry. I’ve never hired a fake boyfriend before, so I’m a little out of sorts.”

  I stood slowly, willing my eyes to stay on her face. There’d be plenty of time later for drinking her in and getting to know her. “I’ve never been a fake boyfriend before, so I get it. Though I will admit to feeling woefully inadequate for the job with just my two nipples.”

  She threw her head back and let out some sort of honking cough again. I wasn’t sure if she had asthma or Tourette’s, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t choking given she hadn’t eaten anything. I waited her out, wondering not for the first time if I was insane for going along with this crazy job. I didn’t really know her. I knew of her. And what I did know of her from rumors wasn’t good.

  It would make for a hell of a story, though, so you can bet your ass I was in.

  When she settled down and was breathing normally, I slid my phone out of my pocket. “What’s your number, Gabby?”

  She rattled it off and I called her so she had my number. Her phone rang in her bag, so I knew she didn’t give me a fake number. You only had that done to you once—okay fine, ten times—before you learned your lesson.

  “Call me when you get the background check back and we’ll get to work. I’m an open book, baby.” Pretty much.

  I stuck my hand out, wondering if a handshake was the proper way to say goodbye to your future fake girlfriend. Pretty sure Ann Landers didn’t have etiquette advice for this situation.

  Gabby’s lips pulled back a bit, exposing perfectly straight white teeth. As far as grimaces went, it was mild, but maybe I should have laid off the sleazy pet names. She hesitated for just a moment and then slid her hand into mine, this time having mercy on me by leaving off the vice grip.

  Something flared to life in my chest. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was desire, maybe it was just my body r
eacting to standing on the edge of the proverbial cliff of something new and exciting and what was sure to end in an emergency room visit.

  I opened the door for her and let her pass by, noticing how nicely she was dressed, like this was an actual business interview. Or maybe she always dressed that way. Glancing down, I took in my board shorts and T-shirt. My Rainbow flip-flops had seen better days, but damn, those things took a beating and just kept flip-flopping. Who was I to throw out a perfectly good pair of shoes?

  “Goodbye, Gabby.”

  She looked over her shoulder but didn’t quit walking toward the parking lot. A lock of hair blew into her face and I had to pull myself back from following after her and not letting her out of my sight. She gave me a small smile and I took that as a good sign. A little more enthusiasm would have been an even better sign, but I wasn’t going to get greedy. She had all the reasons in the world to doubt me and she didn’t even know the biggest reason of all.

  4

  Rhett

  “Yo, Jayden! I’m home!”

  Silence greeted me as I entered the condo owned by my buddy from college. He was letting me couch surf while I got on my feet. That whole sentence was a lie. He was letting me stay in one of his well-appointed bedrooms—no couch in sight—while I ambled aimlessly through life with no solid plan for getting on my feet or even going anywhere once I was on said feet. Luckily, Jayden was a good friend and he was also doing well for himself.

  We’d met freshman year of college, and while I’d had to take a light load of classes and live at home, thus extending my college career into seven years for a damn degree, while he stayed in the dorms and finished college in four years like normal people. We’d remained tight. He owned his own company and the last year had been good for him. Like crazy good.

  Our arrangement worked well for now. I bartended a few shifts a week and watched the homestead in return for free room and board, while he ran his growing empire from the office. We rarely saw each other, but I’d seen his new Mercedes downstairs. Kind of hard to miss that thing with the smell of money burning in the form of custom wheels and the window tint even your mama couldn’t see through.

  A door slammed down the hallway. I stood in the living room and stared, motionless, like sudden movement might cause an explosion. A woman, adjusting her dress and swiping at her crazy sex hair, came sauntering through the house and out the front door without so much as a hand wave or a head nod.

  Well, holy shit. Jayden got himself laid.

  I snickered, suddenly elated I had new material. I could work with this for weeks of harassment. Who knew Mister Workaholic could unclench that asshole of his long enough to have a good time with an actual breathing female? Not that his asshole had anything to do with the good times, but hey, no shame in a little butt kink. I’d have to ask him if that was his thing.

  Taking a seat on the couch, I decided to wait him out. I had nothing better to do until I heard back from Gabby about our contract, so why not get comfortable and grill my buddy over his lost virginity. No, the dude wasn’t actually a virgin, but he’d been celibate for so long I was starting to wonder if what I thought was reluctance was actually a personal problem with the tubing he didn’t feel comfortable talking about.

  To pass the time—the guy had to come out to get food or water at some point—I Googled some things and screenshot what I was looking for. After cropping the picture, I sent it off to Gabby with a little note. She didn’t hit me back right away, but that was to be expected. She didn’t know if I was to be trusted yet. My game plan while I waited was to be exactly who she needed so she couldn’t live without me. At least for the next three months of filming.

  “Do you even have a job, or do you just live to be a pain in my ass?”

  I looked up to see Jayden buttoning the cuffs on his dress shirt, his hair perfectly combed and gelled, like he hadn’t just done the frisky with a certain lady he probably didn’t want to talk about.

  “Funny you should bring up asses…” I responded with a sly smile.

  He looked at me funny and then shook his head. “I don’t even want to know. I gotta get back to work. I should have a delivery tomorrow if you could sign for it.”

  “No worries, man. Although I may have secured a new job that would have me moving out for three months.”

  Jayden whipped back in my direction, his hand on the doorknob of the front door. “Oh, yeah? Damn, that’s awesome, man. Will you tell me more about it tomorrow? I should be home early. Ish.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I know what ‘early’ means to you. I should still be here. If not, I’ll call you.”

  Jayden walked out and I got busy wooing my potential fake girlfriend. I found an article on one hundred questions to get to know your partner. I texted her the link and another message.

  Rhett: I think we should start going over these questions while we wait for your background check to come in. We don’t have much time. I’ll go first. What’s your biggest pet peeve?

  To my surprise and elation, Gabby started texting back.

  Gabby: Thank you for the information you sent. I didn’t realize that the extent of development of the third nipple would be the determining factor on if it had sensation. I feel so much better knowing that now. As for the questions, I think we should wait until we know you’re the man for the job.

  Rhett: I already know I’m the man for the job, so we might as well just get going on the getting to know each other part. Besides, what’s the harm in starting now? If you don’t like my background check, you move on. No harm, no foul.

  She didn’t text me back for twenty long minutes where I made myself a sandwich, ate it, and then paced the condo, waiting for a reply that I wasn’t sure would even come. My phone finally dinged as I contemplated Oreos with milk. One was never too old for a little Oreo snack.

  Gabby: Judgy bitches dissing my boy bands and bubblegum pop music.

  I nearly dropped the phone from laughing so hard. That was her biggest pet peeve? I never in a million years would have expected that answer from prim and proper Gabby Cole. My face felt like it might split from smiling so hard. An idea hit me and I had to run with it. I went to my room and pawed through my drawers until I found the exact T-shirt I was looking for. Pulling off my old one and putting on the new one, I posed for a selfie with a big cheesy grin.

  I sent her the picture, which highlighted one of my favorite shirts. It said “I Want It That Way.” Then in smaller letters below: “You just sang that line in your head, didn’t you?”

  Gabby: Oh my god! You have a Backstreet Boys T-shirt.

  Rhett: See? Told you I’m the man for the job.

  We spent the rest of the evening pinging each other back and forth with random questions and giving answers. By the time I went to bed, I wanted the job, less for the money or to understand who she was, but because I plain ol’ liked Gabby Cole.

  * * *

  The next day I slept in, having paused my constant trolling online to find a job. I’d applied for so many jobs in the last six months I was starting to wonder if I had a virus on my computer that warned all these companies not to hire a jokester like me. I either didn’t hear back at all from the really great jobs or was told I was too qualified for the position if it was a shittier job. If Jayden decided to start charging me rent, I would have been screwed. Bartending part-time gave me enough money to get by, but rental costs in LA had gotten insane.

  Thankfully, I had a good feeling about Gabby. I just knew the job was mine. After all our texts yesterday and the potentials I saw at that coffee shop, I couldn’t imagine her choosing someone else.

  With positivity in the forefront of my brain, I began to pack up my room. All my T-shirts and shorts went into a small suitcase. Toiletries went into my dopp kit and then it was just my surfboard gear.

  I’d started making my own surfboards in high school after I discovered I loved surfing, but the good boards were expensive. So, I improvised and made my own. The first few were horrific
ally bad, but I got better and better. I even sold a few to friends for just above cost when I needed to make some money. Now, it was a huge mess of foam, strips of thin plywood, tubs of resin, and tools.

  My phone dinged from the kitchen where I’d left it. I set down the blanks I’d started but hadn’t finished. A text from Gabby waited for me.

  Gabby: Background check said you’re not a criminal. Sending over signed contract now. When can you start?

  “Yes!” I fist pumped the air and danced around the kitchen before responding.

  Rhett: Just gotta load up my car and then I can be over anytime. You tell me when, honey. Babe? Snookums? Wait, what am I going to call you?

  Gabby: I’m working from home today so anytime is fine. Definitely not Snookums.

  Rhett: I’ll head out in about thirty minutes. Text me your address? I really think we need obnoxious pet names for each other. All the obnoxiously rich have them.

  She sent her home address, but made no mention of the pet names. Maybe I shouldn’t have included that dig at rich people because if she was invited on the show, she had to be one of them. I pulled up her address on the map app on my phone, seeing she was delightfully close to the ocean. I hadn’t planned on taking my board shaping stuff, but that location was entirely too tempting to leave them here.

  I hauled all my stuff downstairs and into the back of my beat-up 1985 Toyota Land Cruiser and hit the road. I felt a little like the Clampetts moving to Beverly Hills, loaded down with their pile of junk in the old clunker. Only I hadn’t struck it rich like those lucky bastards.