Till Summer Do Us Part(56)

And today is the first time I’m seeing him with his hair somewhat styled, which I think is funny, since we’re going to get it wet anyway. But he put some pomade in it, making the longer strands go in all different kinds of directions. Very messy, very, dare I say, hot?

Let’s not go there; that’s only asking for trouble.

“Are you going to need help with your wet suit?” he asks as he pulls his shirt up and over his head, revealing his carved upper torso.

Um…excuse me?

No, this can’t be right.

I ordered a fake husband who was into improv, not the moody GQ model with the ripped chest and stacked abs.

Forgive my wandering eyes, but does this man live in the gym?

I guess he really does have time to do whatever he wants, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this fit in person. Broad chest with rounded shoulders that meet well-toned arms. His pecs are flat but still pop off his chest like a swimmer’s. The muscles along his rib cage ripple under the early morning light, and his stomach is stacked with individually carved abs, one right on top of the other. There’s a small patch of hair that’s under his belly button, leading down to his waistline, and the tattooed rings on his arms are the only ink—from what I can tell—on his body.

“Scottie?”

“Huh? What?” I ask, snapping my eyes up to his, where I find him smiling at me.

“You’re staring.”

My cheeks flush, and I look away. “Was I? Uh, sorry. I’ve just, um, I haven’t noticed, I mean, I’ve never seen…” I let out a breath and then look up at him, feeling defeated. “You have nice muscles.”

His lips quiver, his eyes sparkle, and I can see him wanting to laugh, but he holds back, staying in character as much as he can. “Thanks, Pips. You have great legs.”

I look down at my legs and then back up at him. “They’re short and my knees are weird.”

“Are you really going to insult yourself in front of me?”

“That’s what Matt used to say about them.” The moment the words leave my lips, I know it’s a mistake, because Wilder’s semijovial expression morphs into pure anger.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“You know, I don’t know why I brought that up. Just forget I said it.”

“No,” he says, taking a step forward. “Did he really say that to you?”

“Sometimes,” I answer reluctantly. “But it was in a joking way.”

“Yeah, well, that ‘joke’ seems to have tarnished your opinion about yourself, and that’s unacceptable.” He tips my chin up with his thumb. “You hear me? Unacceptable. Do not take other people’s flawed opinions about you and turn them into your own. There is nothing wrong with your legs. Personally, I think they’re hot. The moment I saw you in that skirt standing outside Anthropologie, I thought to myself, she has hot legs. Nothing weird about them.”

Once again, I can feel my cheeks heat up as I quietly say, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, take off that cover-up so I can assess the rest of your body.”

“What?” I ask, snapping my attention to him, causing him to smirk.

“Just kidding, Pips. But seriously, suit up. We have a challenge to win.”





Wilder has his hand on my hip, his chest pressed against my back, as he leans over and points to a square-shaped blow-up obstacle in the middle of the lake. We’re both suited up, but instead of him all the way in his wet suit, he has the top half hanging at his hips, keeping his chest and arms exposed. He claims the sun is starting to make him hot, so he doesn’t want to burn up and overheat before it’s our turn, but a part of me wonders if he’s doing it to show off to the other guys. There’s no doubt Wilder has the best body out of all the husbands.

Not that it’s a competition, but I did see Chad and Duncan pointing at Wilder before they took on the challenge. Luckily, we didn’t have to go first, so we can watch where people are messing up and readjust our method.

“Right there, that’s where everyone falls in, and it’s because the woman is jumping first, and when the guy jumps on, he sends the woman into the water. We need to switch up there.”

“Yeah, I see. But should we argue about it when we get to that point?”

He squeezes my hip. “That’s my girl. Take all that built-up anger you have, and let me have it.”

“I think I can do that.”

“Prices,” Sanders calls out. “You’re up.”

Getting into character, I push Wilder to the side and say, “For the love of God, stop showing everyone your body and zip yourself up.”

The smallest of smiles pulls at his lips before Wilder says, “Well, at least someone was looking at my body.”

I roll my eyes and walk up to Sanders, arms crossed, looking none too pleased to be here.

“You guys ready?” Sanders asks.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I say.

“Odd, I think I said that to you last night when you got in bed,” Wilder says, causing me to gasp.

“Says the guy who took forever to—”

“Okay,” Sanders cuts in. “Let’s leave the arguing to a minimum. Remember, this is a team event, so you must work together as a team.”