Page 2 of The Reason I Married Him
“Mother of . . . fuck,” I say while I snort air out of my nose, attempting to reverse the smell I just inhaled.
Okay, yeah, Laurel was right. I needed to be sprung from that couch probably a few days ago. Thank God she had the courage to do it today. Who knows what two more days on the couch would have brought.
Possibly a mushing between the toes . . .
Now, there’s something to brag about.
I strip the rest of the way then step into the slightly chilly water, but my body needs soap, and it needs soap now. As I move through the process of washing off the stink, I consider how I got into this position in the first place.
There’s truly only one reason . . .
Cadance Clearwater, that’s how.
Heiress to Clearwater Coffee—the brand that no one has ever heard of, but Cadance swears is the best coffee on the market. Just a little spoiler alert, it is not.
We met on a windy day in Silicon Valley. It was at a local coffee shop, no less, where she was attempting to sell Clearwater Coffee to the store manager. I was working on my latest thriller about a doctor who helped a husband and wife get pregnant only to use the cord blood of the baby to save the life of their current living but very sickly child—a bestseller, if you’re wondering. I was brought out of the moment when I caught her fumbling with her bag of coffee.
She stumbled over her words.
Her bag fell out of her hands.
And the coffee beans spilled all over the floor.
It was cringe-worthy for everyone around.
The store manager was uninterested, and when he dismissed her, she pointed her shaky finger at him and told him he was making a big mistake.
I liked her tenacity.
I found it . . . endearing and ended up helping her pick up her spilled coffee beans.
She said it was love at first sight for her.
For me, I thought she was hot, but love wasn’t even a distant thought.
Like, not even close.
But . . . because I thought she was hot, I asked her out on a date.
One date turned into two, then three . . . then four. And on the fourth date, she invited me into her apartment and seduced me. Yup. She was all over me.
She stripped me out of my clothes and had me right there on the floor of her kitchen. Shocked and pleasantly surprised, you could imagine that I was all for it.
The next morning—because obviously, I spent the night—she made me a cup of Clearwater Coffee and then sat naked on my lap. Everything about it was like living out a wet dream . . . well, not everything.
There she was, tits bouncing in my face, rocking over my erection as I brought the cup of coffee up to my mouth. The smell was . . . heinous.
But coffee can be sour sometimes, so I took a sip, and that was when the white light of death flashed before my eyes.
I felt the skin on my face peel back.
My teeth pushed forward, out of my mouth, like a horse reaching for a carrot.
And my armpit hairs twisted in a spiral, indicating the Grim Reaper was on his way, my name on a tombstone being carefully carried in his skeletal hands.
It was official. With one sip, Clearwater Coffee was the most disgusting coffee to ever pass my lips.
Some might classify it as sludge.
