CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
SHAWN looked at herself in the mirror, Eve and the twins hovering around her, fussing with the long, flowing skirt of her white dress that Charity and Sandy had chosen off the rack at a retail store. She looked like a real bride.
And she promptly burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” Harley asked, reaching out and taking her cold hand in hers.
“You’ll mess up your makeup!” Charity shrieked, horrified.
“I’m sorry.” Shawn managed to stop the tears almost as soon as they started, sniffling and widening her eyes to keep herself under control. “I can’t help it. I miss my grandparents.”
It was the truth. But she also was realizing that not only did she look the part, she felt like a true bride. She was in love with her groom. She wanted to spend her life with him, regardless of the reasons they had come together in the first place.
How nuts was that?
Rhett had told her he loved her the night before, and she believed him. For the first time ever in her life, she had looked into the eyes of a man and seen that she was cherished by him. It was wonderful. It was wacky. It was overwhelming. She wasn’t sure how a woman was ever supposed to be prepared to fall in love, but she hadn’t been. Instead of enjoying their mutual emotions, she was still a ball of anxiety, because who was to say what was going to happen when six months had passed? It was too soon to ask Rhett for a real commitment, regardless of their legal marital status. Pressuring him or even asking could smother the spark of their newfound love. It had merely been the post-sex relaxation that had allowed her to say something about taking his last name, and while he had agreed, it could have been purely because he knew his family would expect it.
Despite everything he had told her, he still hadn’t said what was going to happen when he had a hundred grand in hand.
It was a lot to have swirling in her head when she was staring at herself in the mirror, looking every inch the part of a woman pledging her love and her life to her new husband.
“I’m going to puke,” she said, her stomach suddenly clenching in a violent spasm, bile clawing up her throat.
“Holy shit!” was Eve’s opinion as they all glanced frantically around the lounge area of the restroom of the Hamby Speedway banquet room for some kind of receptacle.
Sandy had come into the room in time to hear Shawn’s last words, and as Shawn covered her mouth and desperately breathed through her nose, Sandy cut through the girls and took charge. “Give her some space!”
Taking her firmly in hand, Sandy pushed her down into the deep sofa opposite the vanity area, and she sank down gratefully.
“Head between your knees,” Sandy said gently, pushing her shoulders forward and kneeling down to lay the back of her hand on Shawn’s clammy forehead. “You’re okay, you’re going to be fine. Just try not to swallow so much.”
Shawn started to calm down at the soothing tones of her mother-in-law.
“What’s wrong?” Harley asked. “You’re already married, no need to be nervous.”
“She’s not nervous,” Sandy said, running her hand down Shawn’s cheek in a way that made her realize in thirty-two years she’d never gotten that kind of touch from her own mother. It made her miss her grandmother even more. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you, sweetie?”
Shawn sat up straight at those words. “What? No! I mean, I don’t think so . . .” Was she? She supposed it was possible. She and Rhett had been having sex like it was going out of style. She was on the pill, but she tended to take it at various times of the day, which was a bit of an instructional violation. But still, what were the odds? Rhett would have to have supersperm.
Given he had eight siblings, and six of them had produced sixteen children, maybe that wasn’t so out of the question. Fertility was a Ford virtue.
“Well, we’ll know in a week or two. But for now, I think you should skip the champagne tonight and stick to ginger ale to settle your stomach.”
“Yeah, okay.” Truthfully, the thought of alcohol did make her want to gag. Oh, Lord. What if she was pregnant?
“Whoa,” was Eve’s opinion on the matter.
Sandy hugged her and Shawn melted into the warmth of that embrace. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you.” She meant that most sincerely. She had deceived Rhett’s family, and they were showing her nothing but love. She was truly grateful for that.
Especially given that her own mother chose that moment to come into the room. “What’s going on, Shawn? Why are you serving so many beef products?” she said by way of greeting.
Raising her head, Shawn swallowed hard. “Mom, please. Everyone was nice enough to help me with this party, I don’t want to hear any criticism.”
“I’m just saying.” Her mother pouted, her long hair loose from its usual braid, gray streaked throughout since she didn’t believe in using chemicals to dye it. Her dress was more of a wrap-and-sari combination in a vivid purple, which Shawn knew was not a color that could be achieved with natural dye. So, as usual, her mother selectively chose her moments to be environmental.
Still feeling a little weak, she took a deep breath and was standing up, holding on to Sandy’s arm, when Rhett came into the room, with a pointless knock on the door as he was already entering.
“This is the ladies’ room,” Charity told him.
“I’m coming to see what’s taking so long. Everyone is here, and they’re devouring the appetizers.”
He looked very handsome in his suit, his tie straight, a jaunty red for the Valentine’s Day theme, and Shawn willed him to meet her eye. She needed him to look at her, to reassure her. He did, giving her that sexy smile that she had first noticed in The Wet Spot, her insides turning to liquid.
“Hey, beautiful. You ready to do this thing?”
She nodded, immediately feeling better, then immediately after that freaking out that she needed him to make her feel better.
He held his hand out for her.
She took it.
• • •
SHAWN looked a little green, but Rhett knew she was nervous about being the center of attention. He found it interesting that for a woman who ran a business and had spent all those years on the youth racing circuit, she wasn’t comfortable with entertaining. Parties and anything that could be classified as an event seemed to generate nerves. Yet in his mind, every weekend at Hamby Speedway during the season was an “event.”
Maybe it was just that she didn’t really like wearing dresses, which was a damn shame, because she was a knockout in them. Especially this one. It looked every inch what he would imagine a bridal gown to be, from the strapless fitted top, to the flowing skirt that looked a little like soft-serve ice cream to him. He wanted to lick her.
“You hungry?” he asked her, as they moved down the hall, her friends and their mothers following them. “There is enough food in there to feed the fans at the Daytona 500.”
It was an inane thing to say, but he wanted her to relax. He squeezed her hand a little and she squeezed back.
“I actually have an upset stomach,” she said. “I think I’m having stage fright.”
“It’s just our friends and family. And the hard part is over. If you didn’t faint in that courthouse,” he murmured to her, “I think you’ll be fine. I mean, let’s face it, it takes a strong woman to agree to put up with me for even six months.”
She gave a brittle laugh, but the tension lines in her forehead smoothed. “True. You are a whole lot of something, Rhett Butler Ford.”
He winced. “Don’t trot out the middle name unless you’re pissed off at me. Or I may not contain my spankings to the bedroom.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She smiled up at him, and he was glad to see she was genuinely amused and looking less sallow. “Don’t try me,” he teased. Then he pushed open the doorway to the banquet room that his sisters had spent the last two days decorating.
“A big Charlotte welcome to the brand new Mr. and Mrs. Rhett and Shawn Ford!” his brother-in-law Mark boomed as they stepped into the room.
Mark had gotten a microphone from God knows where, and he appeared to have nominated himself for MC/DJ, an iPod and speakers set up behind him.
Even Rhett wasn’t quite prepared for the loud pronouncement of them as man and wife and the thundering applause and hoots and hollers that followed. For a second he just blinked.
Shawn murmured, “Good Lord, it looks like Cupid shart in here.”
Rhett choked back a laugh and managed to smile and raise their clasped hands together in a victory shake. Then he fought the urge to drag Shawn through the crowd and the explosion of pink and red hearts, and took a nice, steady pace instead. He wasn’t exactly sure where they were supposed to go, so he took the opportunity to just stop every few feet and greet guests and receive hugs from ancient great-aunts and his grandmother.
Suddenly he wasn’t sure this party had been such a fabulous idea after all, because while he knew for certain he loved Shawn and she loved him, they had gone about this all ass backwards. Instead of taking their vows in a church with family present, meaning each of those words they’d spoken, they had stood before a judge and lied through their teeth. It left the stain of dishonesty on this party, and that pissed him off. He didn’t want there to be any whiff of falsity to the night, and while he was used to being hugged and cosseted from female family members, the truth was, he didn’t have his brother’s easy charm. Playing host wasn’t any easier for him than it was for Shawn to tackle the hostess role.
So as soon as they had reached the head table, crowded with giant vases of red flowers, he deposited Shawn in a chair and went for some liquid fortification. Shawn shook her head when he asked if she wanted a drink, already turning away as her mother swooped down on her like a purple dragon. He’d barely exchanged five words with her, and he had to say quite honestly, he despised her mother. From her made-up first name of Mati, stolen no doubt from the legendary spy, to her insistence that marriage was for the weak-minded, she grated on his nerves.
Rhett had kind of always thought marriage was for the monogamous, but go figure. He ordered a shot of whiskey from the bartender.
“Eight dollars,” the bartender told him.
He didn’t even have his wallet on him. “I’m the groom.”
“I’m sorry, sir, that doesn’t matter.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rhett turned to go find someone to bum a ten off of, when he almost ran into his father.
“Let me buy you a drink, son.”
“Thanks, Dad,” he said, more relieved than he cared to admit. He wasn’t usually one to crave alcohol, but neither did he usually have this much emotion churning inside him like a cement mixer.
“Whatever he wants,” his father told the bartender. He handed the bartender a hundred dollar bill. “For the rest of the night so we don’t have to keep doing this every time he or his bride need to wet their whistle.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Rhett was touched.
His father smiled at him and held his hand out. They shook. “Congrats. I hope you and Shawn will be as happy as your mother and I have been.”
Yeah, that was a lump the size of a baby’s fist in his throat. “Me, too,” he said. He meant it with every bone in his body.
“My youngest married.” Nolan Senior shook his head. “Damn, I must be old.”
“Nah.” Rhett clamped him on the shoulder. “You still have a lot of Saturday afternoon delights with Mom ahead of you.”
“Don’t be smart, boy.” But his father did laugh, even if the tips of his ears were a little pink.
Rhett grinned and raised his glass. “Cheers.” He drank the shot of whiskey and felt the slow burn down his throat, knocking through that lump in there like Drano. That was better.
Somehow as various brothers-in-law and uncles and cousins came up for a drink, Rhett found himself trapped at the bar for over an hour. During which he might have done another three shots. Feeling pleasantly buzzed, he finally made his way over to the buffet of food and attempted to load himself up a plate. After he dropped the slotted spoon in the green beans three times, his Aunt Trudy took his plate from him and not only spooned up his beans for him, but went down the whole line, loading him up with eats.
“Don’t trip on your way to your table,” she told him with a wink. “And lay off the whiskey if you want to make your bride happy tonight.”
Ha. As if that was ever an issue. His chest inflated with more than a little manly pride. “How do you know I’ve been drinking?”
“I married your Uncle Georgie, didn’t I? That man has pickled his liver.”
Rhett couldn’t really argue with that. Georgie was a pretty hard-core drinker. He’d been known to fall asleep with his forehead on the bar top in his local watering hole, then rousing long enough to order another one before passing out again.
“I smell it on you.”
“Oh.” That was his stellar whiskey-stunted brainiac reply. “Good party, huh?” he asked, feeling satisfied with the way it was turning out. Sure, there was an excess of pink and Ford relatives, but everyone was happy and having a good time. Mark was spinning tunes, or more accurately, had hit play on the playlist, and there was some early dancing starting up, still a little timid and demure at this point. Another hour, the jackets and the ladies’ shoes would come off, and the hip shaking would begin in earnest. Just like a real wedding. It felt like a real wedding.
Which reminded him. He hadn’t seen Shawn in quite a while.
“Excuse me, Aunt Trudy. I need to find my beautiful wife.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Shawn snapped at him when he returned to the table, balancing his plate with one hand while swiping a deviled egg off the pile with the other.
“I went for a drink.” He pointed to his plate. “And food. Do you want me to get you some?”
“I want you to not abandon me again like that. God, I just met a thousand relatives all on my own. Eve brought me a plate.” Shawn was sitting down, and her dinner was really just a pile of shredded biscuits with some uneaten ham next to it.
“Do you want something else?” he asked. “I can go back up for you.” He sat next to her and kissed the side of her head. “Sorry. I got waylaid by congratulations.”
“Are you drunk?” she asked him, sounding very suspicious.
“No. I am buzzed. There is a big difference.” He shoveled pasta into his mouth. He was suddenly very hungry now that his nerves had worn off.
“Oh, Lord,” was her opinion.
“Aren’t you drinking?” he asked her. “You didn’t drink much last night either. Just a couple of beers.”
“I have a headache and my stomach is queasy. Plus I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of your family, so no, I’m not drinking.”
“I doubt you would do that. You’re the king of the car bomb, remember? You can hold your liquor. Have a drink if you want one.” It might do her some good.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.” See how good he was at being a husband? He was already agreeing to everything she said.
There was a violent clanking of forks on glasses throughout, and Rhett grinned at Shawn. “They want us to kiss.”
She leaned forward and gave him the most chaste kiss they had ever shared, then waved in acknowledgment to the crowd.
“What kind of a kiss was that?” he complained. “Next time, I think you should slip me some tongue. Show me you mean it.”
“Rhett, don’t piss me off right now, seriously.”
“What?” he asked in bewilderment. “I’m sorry, babe, are you really feeling that awful?”
She nodded, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears.
Seeing her expression, he felt horrible, and he reached over and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Did you take any aspirin?”
“No. I didn’t bring my purse.”
“Honey, there are thirty females in this room. We could medicate a small hospital once they open their purses. I’ll get you something.”
“Thanks.”
“And as pretty as your hair looks, maybe you should loosen that knot thing it’s in. That can’t be helping.”
She nodded, and he went off in search of pain relievers. Within five minutes he had them and had brought them to Shawn. But then he was called over to the bar by his father, who was telling a story to a group of cousins involving Rhett’s first dirt bike and a certain accident involving his jeans.
“Dad, this is not a roast. It’s my wedding. You can’t be telling about every stupid thing I did as a kid.”
“The hell I can’t. It’s a father’s privilege once his son is grown. Someday you’ll understand that yourself. Let’s do a shot.”
It was that suggestion, paired with the idea of fatherhood, that had Rhett willingly reaching out his hand.
Which might explain how by the time he got back to Shawn, he was well and truly on his way to being drunk.
• • •
SHAWN could not believe that Rhett was wasted. In all the time she’d known him, which admittedly was not that long, she’d never seen him drunk. She’d seen him drink wine, beer, whiskey, and never even get a buzz. But here, at their wedding party on freaking Valentine’s Day, where she had a headache and was paralyzed by fear that she might be carrying his child, he chose to get bombed.
So annoying.
Another night she might have found his whistling, his wolfish drunken smile, his loosened tie, and his uninhibited dancing quite entertaining. But while her nausea had disappeared, she was still not in any position to enjoy the ridiculousness.
It seemed everyone but her was freely imbibing. The dance floor was packed with the young and the old and one brother-in-law was swinging his jacket around over his head. The kids were drunk on sugar and excitement, which was in evidence when Danny’s son Simon stuck his entire face in the chocolate fountain, earning hoots of laughter from the adults. When he pulled back and shook like a dog, chocolate flew in all directions, scattering on the floor, the table, and three girls in front of him. Still no one yelled at him, which spoke volumes at the amount of alcohol consumed, in Shawn’s opinion.
She had floated from table to table, always seeking a chair. She was tired. Clinton, her grandfather’s attorney, sank into the seat beside her, and all it took was a very slurred greeting and a glimpse of his glassy eyes to realize he was just as drunk as the rest of the room.
“Hey, Clinton,” she answered, giving him a wan smile.
He leaned forward and clasped her hand in his large, warm one. “You look beautiful, my girl, just beautiful. Jameson would have been so proud to see you as a bride.”
That almost did her in. “I miss him, Clinton.”
“Me, too.” He squeezed her hand. “Shawn, are you happy? Is this marriage really what you want?”
Puzzled, she studied him. “All things considered, it’s the best solution, yes.” He knew she had paid off Rhett to marry her. He was the only person alive who did.
Clinton shook his head. “This was wrong, all of it. I shouldn’t have been any part of it, and I should have told you the truth, Jameson’s wishes be damned.”
Shawn stiffened. “The truth about what?”
He leaned even closer, almost falling into her lap. “You didn’t have to get married. You could have contested the restrictions placed on that will, and I don’t doubt for a minute you would have won. You might have had to split ownership with your brother as dual heirs, but you would have won.”
The heat of the room suddenly felt stifling. For a very brief moment, she actually thought she might faint, but she was made of sterner stuff than that. “So you’re saying I didn’t need to get married?”
“No, probably not. I mean, it would have taken a few months and thousands in lawyer’s fees to contest the will.”
Thousands? Not a hundred thousand, which is what she owed Rhett when all was said and done. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She absolutely could not believe it. Save a few months of paper pushing and probably ten grand in legal fees, she could have achieved her goal of ownership free and clear? She wouldn’t have given a damn about sharing ownership with her brother. He wasn’t interested in the track. He wasn’t even particularly interested in her. He had sent his apologies for not attending this very wedding party, because he had claimed he’d been unable to get a sitter for the baby. When she had suggested he bring the baby, he had said she was afraid of crowds.
Shawn could have taken the hundred grand she was giving Rhett and could have bought out her brother. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would have jumped at the chance to have the cash.
“You really think I would have won?”
“I’m certain it would have all shook out in your favor. You’re the obvious heir, and the will stated you were to inherit, just under stipulations that most judges would deem inappropriate.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she asked, finally freeing her hand from his hot and sweaty grip. God, when she thought about the anxiety she had felt, the panic, the fear that she was going to lose the last connection to her grandfather, Hamby Speedway, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs.
“I was trying to respect Jameson’s intentions. I kind of figured you would marry Sam after all, but then when you didn’t and you were all set to get hitched with the younger Ford brother, I started to think that you might be making a huge mistake. I should have come to you, but I thought, well, hell, I’m an old man and what do I know about your dating life? Maybe you’re happy with Rhett and this just sped things up. You’re happy, right? I’ll never forgive myself if you’re not.”
Though she was mad as hell, Shawn couldn’t help but feel bad for Clinton. None of this ridiculousness had been his idea, and he had just been trying to respect his best friend’s dying wish. But he clearly felt guilty and he looked genuinely worried about her. She’d let him off the hook, but she wasn’t the least bit happy about his information.
“I’m happy,” she told him simply to ease his guilt, though she wasn’t sure she was, exactly. She was head over ass for Rhett, but she wasn’t precisely sure she was happy. It was exhilarating, but it certainly wasn’t peaceful. But maybe that’s how love went. She didn’t know, because she’d never been in love before.
Part of her questioned if she was even in love. How did one recognize that it was legitimately that elevated emotion? For all she knew, she was making that classic mistake of confusing lust with love. It wasn’t like this was a long-standing relationship. In the course of an average lifetime, she would spend more time renewing her driver’s license than the time she had been married to Rhett. What did she really know about love?
This felt like love.
Didn’t it?
She sought out Rhett across the room, but she didn’t see him.
“I’m glad to hear it, girl, glad to hear it.”
“Thanks, Clinton.” Feeling distracted, Shawn was actually hugely relieved when someone called out that the car service had arrived to safely shuttle home the bride and groom and anyone else who had been drinking.
Rhett appeared. “You ready to go?” he asked, holding on to the back of her chair like the room was swaying a little.
“Yes. Beyond ready.” Shawn stood up and braced herself for the round of good-byes that were about to commence when suddenly Rhett tried to pick her up. “Ack!” She swatted at him and scurried out of his reach.
“What? I want to carry you to the car.”
“Hell, no. You’re drunk, and I don’t want to be dropped on my ass.”
“I could carry you in my sleep,” he retorted.
That statement was so stupid Shawn didn’t even bother to reply. She just wanted to go home and go to bed. And not to have sex, to close her eyes and sleep.
But Grabby Hands was already trying to knead her ass cheeks like he was baking bread as they paused to speak to his parents. She smacked at him, irritated. He seemed to have forgotten their small wedding party had grown to seventy-five people, and most of them were watching them leave.
Sandy was handing her a large silver box.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s filled with the cards everyone brought.”
“Oh.” Shawn blinked. “Oh, thank you . . . I didn’t think . . . I didn’t realize.” People had given them cards and probably some included money. Could she feel any worse? Not that she wanted to test the theory, because she felt pretty much like a huge asshole right now.
Sandy hugged her. “We’ll talk soon.” She rolled her eyes at her son when his hands slid across her backside again. “Rhett, wait three more minutes, for crying out loud. You’re embarrassing your wife.”
He didn’t look particularly concerned, and when they walked outside into the cold night air, Shawn’s jacket just draped over her shoulders, he opened the car door for her.
Murmuring, he said, “You’d better give your heart to Jesus, because your ass is mine tonight.”
What irritated her more than anything else was the fact that despite her annoyance, his words still aroused her.
And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.