The Husband Checklist ✔ [SAMPLE CHAPTERS]

Chapter One

Julia

My shoes squeak as I make my way up the porch steps, banging on the white door with the heel of my hand. "Come on, Ollie."

The puddle at my feet grows as I wait. I want nothing more than to get out of my soaked clothes, jump under the hot shower, and curl up in bed. After alternating between knocking and ringing the bell, the door finally opens, and I let out a sigh of relief as I look up.

But, holy moly. This is most definitely not my brother standing in front of me.

My vision is filled with none other than his best friend, Carter.

The same one I grew up with, at least once both he and my brother finally accepted I wasn't going to leave them alone, even though I was two years younger.

"Jules? What the hell happened to you?" He gives me a once-over, his eyes going wide as he takes in my appearance and the suitcase behind me.

My stomach rolls, his question bringing back today's events. Events I'd rather not think about. Instead, I force the fresh memory back into a box in my mind, not planning on going there anytime soon.

"What are you doing here? Are you rooming with Ollie?" The second the words leave my mouth, I vaguely remember my brother mentioning something about it the last time we talked.

That's what happens when you don't pay enough attention.

"I am."

Two words, and I'm pulled into all things Carter. So much easier to focus on him, letting him distract me from this shitshow my life has turned into.

The tepid temperatures of the rain have slowly turned my skin cold under my soaked clothes, but I'm not a hundred percent positive that's the reason for the goose bumps that appeared out of nowhere. When I saw him a few months ago, he definitely didn't greet me like this.

Suppressing a shiver, another question tumbles out of my mouth. "And why on earth are you half-naked? Do you usually open the door like this?"

He looks down his body as if it would answer for him, which doesn't take very long given he only has a towel wrapped around his waist. Not that there isn't a lot to check out with his well-over-six-foot frame. But that's more for me, of course.

Despite the messy state I'm in—both physically and emotionally—I can't help but roam over the fine contours of his upper body while he's not looking.

I guess old habits die hard. It feels a little bad, like looking at him is taboo.

He's the forbidden fruit, per my brother's demand at least. But Ollie isn't here, and since I'm newly single, it's really no one's business who or what I'm looking at.

Large parts of Carter's upper body are covered in tattoos—chest, biceps—and if memory serves right, there are a few on his back too. Most of them are abstract—beautiful black drawings I wanted to trace a time or two when I was younger.

Carter clears his throat, and I snap out of my trance. No one can fault me for being fascinated by all those tattoos and muscles.

The embarrassment of getting caught still flames my cheeks, and I refrain from covering them with my hands. I only walked a few feet from my car to the front door in the rain, but I know it was enough for my mascara to run down my face. I'm probably only making it worse the more I try to wipe it away.

But I shouldn't be ogling Carter so soon after my boyfriend broke up with me. Then again, Carter has always been hard to ignore—all male with wide shoulders, narrow hips, longish, messy dark-blond hair, a slight scruff on his face. Not to mention the most hypnotizing blue-gray eyes I've ever seen.