CHAPTER
FIVE
“ARE you sure you want to do this?” Shawn’s lawyer asked him point blank in his stuffy office loaded down with mahogany furniture. Rhett didn’t like rooms like this—it was dark and oppressive and formal. It made him long for the acreage of his parents’ property, or the freedom of being behind the wheel on the track.
Clinton seemed like a nice enough sort of guy, and he was clearly concerned about Shawn’s well-being. It was obvious he wasn’t buying their sudden desire for marriage, when four days earlier Shawn had told him she wasn’t dating anyone.
“I’m sure,” Rhett told him confidently, just wanting to sign the paperwork and get the hell out of there.
He’d thought of virtually nothing else for the last seventy-two hours, and he hadn’t changed his mind. He needed the money, otherwise he was going to have to give up driving a car after this season. He knew that. He also knew that he and Shawn collectively could generate attention and media and create a buzz for the track this year, guaranteeing greater success for her and him both. At the end of the year they would both walk away with their dreams secured. It was win-win. Plus, he would have potentially months to explore a sexual relationship with Shawn. After that kiss the other night, there was no way he was going to deny himself that pleasure.
Clinton sighed. “Alright. I guess I can’t gainsay Shawn at this point. She’s technically doing exactly what her grandfather wanted her to do. I swear if he wasn’t dead, I’d kill him myself for doing this to her.”
It was nice to see that Shawn inspired such protectiveness. Rhett understood the feeling, and he’d spent very little time with her so far. They had only spoken briefly since her unexpected proposal the other night, and it had only been about managerial details, like when they would tell their families and when he would move in to her apartment. And where she actually lived so he knew where to move to.
“I think Shawn is going to be just fine. You don’t need to worry about a woman as savvy and strong as she is,” he told Clinton. He meant it. Any woman who was willing to go through with a fake marriage to keep her business was tenacious as hell.
“Just don’t run around on her and embarrass her,” Clinton said, giving Rhett the stink eye.
“I have no intention of running around on her.” He didn’t. If he was working up an appetite at home, he fully intended to eat there as well.
“Guess there’s nothing to do then but sign on the dotted line.” Clinton pointed to the bottom line of the contract Rhett had already skimmed and handed him a pen.
Rhett signed his name with a flourish. Rhett B. Ford. Done.
He shook Clinton’s hand and left the office, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself.
Then he called his brother Nolan. “Hey, bro.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“You busy on Monday?” It was their day off from racing, usually their only one.
“Not particularly, though I was planning to sleep in. Why?”
“I need you to help me move.” Rhett crossed the parking lot and beeped his truck open, unable to prevent a grin. He enjoyed shocking his brother. There was just something really damn fun about it.
“What? Where the hell are you moving to? You just took that place over from me. God, are you moving back in with Mom and Dad? That’s lame.”
“No. I’m moving in with Shawn.” He was going to save the whole marriage thing until after the deed was done, but he did need to get the muscle lined up for moving day, or he was going to be trying to carry a couch by himself.
There was dead silence on the other end. Followed by, “What the fuck are you talking about? You just met Shawn like five minutes ago!”
“We met on Saturday, technically,” he said cheerfully.
“You’re kidding me right?”
“No. There’s just something about her. She blew me away.” She had. That wasn’t a lie.
“But you’re not impulsive. You don’t attach easily.”
“That’s just Mom’s opinion. I actually attach extremely easily.” Which might concern him if he stopped to think about it. He chose not to. “Just save your opinions and psychological analysis and show up on Monday, okay?”
“Does Mom know?”
“Not yet. Don’t worry, I’ll tell her before Monday.”
“Jesus Christ, Rhett. She’s going to flip her fucking wig.”
“She can handle it. She handled nine kids. I’ll talk to you later. I have plans with Shawn in twenty minutes.” To get married.
Shawn was pacing in the courthouse hallway when he arrived, a gift bag in his hand, a ring box tucked in his coat pocket.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” she blurted, then seemed to be annoyed with herself for admitting that. “Anyway, how did it go with Clinton? He e-mailed me last night that everything was in order with your background check.”
“Yep. We’re good to go.” He pulled the ring box out of his pocket. “For you.”
Her eyes widened. “You bought a ring? Holy crap, you didn’t have to do that! I figured we’d just get cheap bands from Walmart.”
“So I can look like a tightwad? Screw that.” If everyone thought it was legit, he didn’t want to look like an ass. Besides, when he had walked into that jewelry store, he had wanted to buy something delicate and beautiful for Shawn, something that went with the elegant grace of her long fingers and her fair skin.
There was something about Shawn’s features that intrigued him endlessly. She was strong and athletic clearly, yet parts of her, like her fingers, her lips, her tiny nose, were so profoundly feminine that he couldn’t look away when he was with her. It may be a fake marriage, but she should be wearing a beautiful ring to match her delicateness.
Yeah. This was him not attaching. Fuck.
But when she opened the box and let out a gasp, it was worth it.
“Oh, my God, this is stunning. It’s so pretty, Rhett.”
It was vintage-inspired, white gold, and narrow, the band crusted in diamonds, meant for the elegant hand of an elegant woman. The fact that Shawn was that and a former driver and current track owner and racing enthusiast, made her just about the perfect package.
Too bad none of it was real and he was essentially a warm body she’d hired.
“Let’s do this thing,” he told her, because he found himself doubting the intelligence of this move. He was starting to feel a brooding mood coming on, and that wasn’t going to look good in the wedding picture.
“I like your wedding jeans,” Shawn told him with a smile as her eyes swept over him, the ring box closed again in her hand.
“Thanks. I even washed them before I put them on.” He owned exactly one suit, and he felt like a gigantic ass wearing it, so he’d opted out. He had put on a button-up shirt, though truth be told, it was wrinkled. Hey. It was Friday and two in the afternoon. Who was there to give a shit?
“How thoughtful.”
“You look pretty,” he told her truthfully, though the minute he said it, he hated how lukewarm it sounded. So he added, “But I wouldn’t have objected to some cleavage.”
She was wearing a narrow skirt, tights, and boots, with a red sweater. It was kind of officelike, but it was February and a fake wedding, so he hadn’t expected her to pull out all the stops either. But it wasn’t exactly screaming “We’re in love, I’m so excited.”
Rolling her eyes, Shawn told him, “You should be looking at the doughnut, not the hole.”
Say what? Rhett got an erection instantly just thinking about her hole. “Do not say things like that in public. Seriously. I mean it.”
Her expression took on a mulish quality. “You can’t tell me what to say. It’s a free country.”
“It’s also illegal to have sex in a hallway, so unless you want me to shove you into the restroom and fuck you against the stall wall, I suggest you not talk about your hole or your creamy edges.” A man could only take so much. Surely she could understand that.
Her eyes widened. “Why do you have to be so gross about it?”
That made the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. Shawn was clearly deluding herself if she actually believed she thought it was crude. The truth was, she liked it when he was honest and straightforward about his lust. It was there in her body language, the way she leaned in toward him, the way her breath caught. The tightness of her nipples beneath her sweater.
“Your disgust isn’t even remotely convincing,” he told her. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be done with the ceremony and back at her place. He was convinced he could get her to let him inside her with just a little coaxing.
Her knuckles were white on the ring box. “Are we sure we want to do this?”
No. He really wasn’t.
Marrying Shawn might be akin to opening Pandora’s box. It might let out feelings, sexual and otherwise, that he wouldn’t be able to contain again.
“Are you getting cold feet?” he asked, because it bothered him more than he cared to admit that she might bail. “Runaway bride does make for an interesting end to our short-lived relationship. Met me to left me, all in one week.”
Her response was as predicted. Shawn bristled. “Of course I’m not bailing! The track means everything to me. Everything.”
“Then let’s go.” He took her hand firmly in his. “Repeat after me: I do. That’s all we need.”
Shawn looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear. “I do. Don’t I?”
It almost made him laugh. He led her down the hallway and through the glass doors to the reception area to let the clerk know they were there. “Do you have the marriage license?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
Five minutes later they were married. It was easier than renewing his driver’s license. Easier even than getting a flu shot, and for the most part, less painful.
Rhett looked down at Shawn, gauging her mood as he leaned down to kiss her. She looked like she’d hit the wall at Talladega at one hundred and forty miles an hour. Stunned. But when he brushed his lips over hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him like a wet kitten.
It was a convincing embrace.
“You okay?” he murmured to her.
That snapped her out of her terrified fog. She said defiantly, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? This was my idea.”
“Excellent.” Rhett turned to the clerk. “Can you take our picture with my phone?” He wasn’t sure why it seemed important. It just seemed like someone would ask at some point if they had proof of the ceremony. Or maybe he just wanted a picture of them. He handed her his phone from his pocket and showed her the button to push.
“Sure. Say ‘wedding night!’”
Shawn dutifully repeated it as they smiled at the camera. But Rhett just held her hand, his finger brushing over the ring he’d slipped on her, and tried to smile. It wasn’t his strong suit. Repeating a cheesy phrase was definitely beyond him.
It was possibly the worst wedding picture ever. He was grimacing and Shawn looked like she was being held prisoner by a madman and forced to pretend otherwise.
Shawn gave a nervous laugh as she peered down at the screen on his phone. “Wow. I don’t think that will be our Christmas card next year.”
“Probably not.”
Shawn suddenly seemed to realize how far away Christmas was and that they would in fact be married nine months from now if she wanted to keep her business. Her entire face leached of color. For a horrifying second, he thought she might hit the floor. But she rallied. She thanked the clerk and tugged him by the hand, hard, into the hallway.
“So, you’re moving in on Monday?” she asked as they headed for the parking lot. “I’ll make sure I clear some space for you.” She dropped his hand like he was a disease carrier. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
Even though he had known she was going to try to ditch him, he hadn’t expected her to look quite so eager to get rid of him. But while he understood her desire for space, it wasn’t going to prevent him from angling for her time, and body. They were both feeling unnerved by what they had just done—hell, they’d gotten married—but what better way was there to ease that tension than by spending the rest of the afternoon in bed together?
“I want to see you tonight. Say ‘wedding night,’” he said as they came to a stop next to her car, giving her a genuine smile.
“I was planning on meeting Eve and my other girlfriends for a drink, to tell them our wonderful news.”
Sarcasm wasn’t a good look for her. It suited Eve more so than Shawn.
“Oh, yeah? Where at?”
“That Mexican place on 150.” Then she got suspicious. “Why?”
“Just being polite, and trying not to be jealous of your friends,” he told her, striving for casual. She didn’t need to know that he was just as tenacious as she was. She didn’t know that he had no intention of letting her walk away that easily. He dropped the gift bag in her lap. “For you.”
Then he leaned forward and kissed her lightly. “My ring looks good on your finger,” he told her, then opened her car door for her. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Shawn frowned. Her mouth worked, like she was going to say something, but then stopped herself. “Okay. Have a good night.”
“I intend to.”
• • •
SHAWN let Rhett slam her door shut as she turned the ignition to her car. Then he waved and walked away. Her husband. He walked away. Which was what she had wanted him to do, but now that he did, she suddenly felt discontent.
They had gone through with it. They’d gotten married, and she had a whole year to save the track from financial decay. A whole year to be married to Rhett Ford and have his green eyes boring into her on a daily basis.
She had to be totally and completely insane.
The ring on her finger felt foreign and monumental, a total Frodo moment, like it might change her forever. It wasn’t an epic Lord of the Rings journey, but it felt damn close enough to her. It was marriage and she had just defiled the institution by marrying for all the wrong reasons. The right reasons to her, but the wrong reasons in general.
She peeled back the tissue paper stuffed in the gift bag and promptly jammed it back in once she saw what was under it. Red lace. It was underwear of some kind, though she was choosing not to look too closely at the moment.
Her head hurt and she wanted a drink as big as her kitchen sink.
Instead, she took an Advil PM and took a nap before she had to face the book club girls at seven. Probably not how most women would spend the afternoon after tying the knot, but it worked for her.
By the time she arrived and ordered her first margarita, she felt more calm and in control. Capable of faking it.
“So what is this big news you texted us about?” Charity asked immediately as she peeled off her coat and plunked down in the seat next to Eve, across from Shawn. “I’m dying of curiosity.”
“Thank God, you two are finally here,” Eve said. “She wouldn’t tell me until you got here.”
Shawn sipped her margarita and wished she could tell them the truth about the situation. But Eve had a mouth the size of Texas and Rhett was her brother-in-law. She wasn’t going to approve of their motives for marriage, nor was she going to be able to keep it a secret. Her tirade would be heard in three counties. Charity was a gossiper, and she couldn’t be trusted either. Harley could keep a secret, but she would worry and end up with an ulcer tearing through her stomach lining. Shawn couldn’t do that to her.
This was her secret. Hers and Rhett’s.
So she had to be convincing.
“Obviously, you know that Rhett Ford is the guy we saw at the bar last weekend and that he asked Eve about me?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Eve said dryly. “Did you give him the go-ahead to call you or whatever?”
“Not exactly. He showed up at the track on Monday.”
“What?” Eve pushed her caramel hair back off her forehead and reached for a chip to dip in guacamole. “What a little shit! I told him it was your call. But he is kind of aggressive that way.”
“Oh, he’s definitely aggressive,” Shawn said, her cheeks heating up as she thought about what she could be doing tonight if she had just agreed to see him. But there was a principle at stake here. He wasn’t the boss of her. How mature did that sound? She mentally eye-rolled herself. “We’ve been, uh, spending a lot of time together.”
Not true, but it was the only way to explain what she was about to say next. Which she had purposely chosen to announce in public so that Eve couldn’t swear at the top of her lungs.
Eve’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
“I do,” Charity stated emphatically, leaning forward on the table.
Harley, seated next to Shawn turned and gave her a concerned look. “What is it you’re trying to tell us, Shawn? Did he hurt you in some way?”
“What? No, of course not.” Not yet anyway.
No. Never. She was not going to get hurt. If she got hurt, it was her own damn fault, not Rhett’s. She was the one who had coerced him into this ridiculous farce. Actually, if she got hurt it was her grandfather’s fault for setting up this bullshit game of emotions in the first place.
“We got married today. Isn’t that awesome?” Ba-dum-bum. She felt like a bad comic.
Three faces stared at her in complete silence and shock. The busy restaurant bustled around them, and they looked like they had been frozen in place by a witch’s spell. A tortilla chip was actually dangling from Charity’s lip, her mouth gaping open.
Any second now, Shawn would be hearing crickets.
“Isn’t anyone going to say anything?” she asked, when it became apparent they were not.
Eve exploded. “What? You cannot be serious! You just met him! Are you insane?”
Oh, yeah, she was, but Eve had no room to talk. Shawn had an ace up her sleeve, and Eve had dealt it to her. “How long were you dating Nolan before you got hitched in Vegas?”
That really had been insane, because Eve and Nolan had gotten married spontaneously without a legal contract, unlike her current situation. So who was the crazy lady here, huh? It made Shawn feel a whole lot better.
“That is not the same thing,” Eve said indignantly. “I knew Nolan for two years before we started dating.”
Shawn snorted. “You probably said hello to him in passing once a week. You did not know him at all. You just happened to know who he was.”
“What . . . how . . . ?” Harley sputtered and reached for her wineglass. “What prompted you to go get married today, a Friday, in the afternoon? I mean, are you in love with him? You must be, right?”
Love? Hardly. Shawn didn’t even believe in love at first sight. Her triumph at besting Eve’s argument was short-lived.
Charity answered before she could. “Of course not! There’s no way. It’s lust, pure and simple. He must be hung like an ox.”
Well, now that was slightly insulting. The assumption that she would get married based purely on the size of a man’s penis made her seem profoundly shallow. She might get married for business reasons, but not for penile size. Sheesh. Give a girl some credit.
“We are in love. Desperate, maddening, cannot-be-explained love. I mean, seriously, ladies, he is seven years younger than me and not my type at all, but sometimes, you just get swept up off your feet.” And hand her a fucking Oscar, thank you very much.
“Yeah, and onto your back,” Charity insisted.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” was Eve’s opinion. “My mother-in-law is going to shart herself. Both her precious sons eloping in the same year. I hope like hell you and Rhett know what you’re doing.”
Not a clue. But fake it till you make it. “I’m not going to worry about it. None of it. People’s opinions don’t matter when you’re happy.” She almost choked on her own cheesiness, but she forced it out.
“And when it all goes south, you just get divorced. No biggie,” Charity said cheerfully.
Her thought exactly, which suddenly made her sad. Was she cynical about relationships? She hadn’t thought so, but maybe she was. Her own father was a douchebag, and her flaky mother had run through a string of lousy boyfriends over the years, so maybe Shawn had gotten used to looking at relationships with expiration dates on them. Was it so impossible to think that marriage could last? Eve and Nolan had started off with an impulsive and improbable beginning, and they seemed quite happy.
“Don’t be a Debbie Downer,” Harley told her twin.
Eve looked torn. “I want to be supportive. I do. I mean, damn it, you’re right. Was it really that different with me and Nolan? But . . . you and Rhett? For real? He’s such a demanding brat.” She leaned forward on her elbows, studying Shawn carefully. “Are you happy?”
“Yes,” she said truthfully, because she was. She was scared. Nervous. But she was happy. Hamby Speedway was still hers and she was going to make a success out of it. That was all she had ever wanted. She was also going to have an orgasm, or multiple ones, in a week or so. Rhett looked like he could put some air in her tires, and she was looking forward to that. So, yeah. She was actually good, now that she thought about it, even as fears and moral implications stewed in the back of her brain. “And I don’t think he’s a brat at all.” Demanding, perhaps. But he was always very honest and straightforward, and she respected that.
“Rhett looks pretty damn happy, too,” Charity said, pointing to the doorway. “Here he comes with Nolan.”
What? Shawn twisted toward where Charity was gesturing. Yep. That was Rhett, looking sexy as hell in his wedding jeans, which cupped his buns quite nicely, she might add. Nolan, whose nostrils were flaring in agitation, walked in behind him. What the hell were they doing there?
“I would say ‘smug’ is a better word for it,” Eve said. “Rhett does smug well.”
That he did. Shawn felt the now-familiar rapid heartbeat and hardening of the nipples she experienced whenever Rhett was around her. It was something about that expression he wore . . . not just the confidence he exhibited, but the way he made her feel, that he was looking at her, and only her, that made smug sexy.
But what he was doing strolling into La Ranchita was a mystery. She should have known he had a reason for asking specifically where she was going.
It made her uneasy.
Yet he was giving her a smile. He raised his hand in greeting and peeled off his coat as he approached their table. He leaned over and kissed her possessively on the mouth. Without missing a beat, he turned and asked the table at large, “Did Shawn tell y’all the news?”
Nolan was shaking his head as he gestured for the hostess to bring them two more chairs. “I would say so, given the looks on their faces.”
“Did you seriously marry my oldest friend in the middle of a Friday afternoon six days after meeting her?” Eve asked. “Because I just want to be clear about what I’m hearing.”
“I did.” With a smile for her, Rhett took the chair the hostess brought over. “Thank you, ma’am, appreciate it.” He nudged it in alongside Shawn, so that when he sat down, his leg was nice and snug against hers. “And there wasn’t even any alcohol involved.”
Just a legal contract and serious greenbacks. But never mind that. Shawn took another swallow of her margarita, then instantly regretted it, remembering the saying about tequila and clothes falling off. She didn’t need to lose her drawers and the bet tonight. It was a situation she had very little control over, this whole business with the track. So the bottom line was, she wanted to delude herself into thinking she had some kind of control over Rhett. By proving she could hold out on sex.
Yeah. This was all just brilliant.
“For the first time in her life, my wife is speechless,” Nolan said wryly as he sat down next to Eve on her free side. “But I guess congratulations are in order, Shawn. I have to say I’m more than a little surprised, but who am I to stand in the way of true love?”
There might be more than a little sarcasm in his voice, but Shawn chose to ignore it. If Charity or Harley had strolled in and announced they were married to a man they had just met, she was sure her reaction would be similar to the ones they were being given.
“Thanks, bro,” Rhett said. “Now I think you should buy me a drink.”
“I can do that. Anyone else?” Nolan asked. “This round is on me.”
“That’s it?” Eve asked. “That’s all you’re going to say? Your brother marries a total stranger, and you offer to buy him a drink?”
“I’m a total stranger?” Shawn asked, indignant at Eve’s choice of words.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. It’s not like you don’t know I’m a decent person. What do you need to protect Rhett from, exactly?”
“Yeah, it’s not like she’s a gold digger,” Nolan joked. “Rhett doesn’t have a pot to piss in.”
Next to her, she felt Rhett shift uncomfortably. “Way to sell me, Nolan, thanks.”
“What? You’re already married. You were smart enough to lock her in before she figures out all your faults.”
Eve laughed. Her husband grinned at her.
Shawn wasn’t particularly amused. Rhett didn’t look like he was enjoying the stand-up comedy routine either. He was frowning, and when the waitress asked him if he would like a drink, he ordered a double shot of tequila. Holy firewater, amigo. Shawn looked at him in amazement.
“Maybe you shouldn’t order that,” Eve told him. “You don’t want whiskey dick on your wedding night. Or technically, tequila dick. But that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
She and Nolan both laughed again, enjoying their little shared humor at Shawn’s husband’s expense. She had to say, she did not care for that one bit. “That’s not a problem for my husband,” she said, and damned if she didn’t sound like one pissed-off wife, legit.
Everyone else must have agreed because Eve’s laughter cut off and Charity was staring at her wide-eyed.
“It was a joke,” Eve told her. “Truth be told, I don’t give any thought to your husband’s dick.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Nolan said.
“Are we having fun yet?” Charity asked, holding up the basket. “Chip, anyone?”
“I’ll take some,” Shawn said, reaching in and grabbing a massive fistful. She suddenly felt the urge to stuff her face before she said something that was rude and uncalled for to her friends.
Rhett’s hand squeezed the top of her thigh. He leaned in close to her and murmured, “Thanks for defending my prowess, babe. I appreciate it.”
She made the mistake of turning to look at him. He was closer than she realized, his mouth inches from hers. “Well, I can’t have people talking smack about my husband.”
Then she jammed a chip into her mouth to combat the salivating desire to kiss him in La Ranchita.
His hand came up and cupped her cheek. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he told her earnestly.
A warm wet pool of desire formed deep inside her. Did he have to be so sexy?
Harley coughed next to her. When Shawn looked up, she saw four faces staring at them, with varying expressions, ranging from horror (Eve) to envy (Charity).
“Is that your wedding ring?” Harley asked as Shawn reached for her margarita. The diamond band was glaringly obvious in the multicolored lights of the fiesta décor.
“Yes, it is. Isn’t it beautiful?” That wasn’t an exaggeration. It was a stunning ring, delicate and vintage-inspired. Oddly enough, she didn’t think she would have chosen it for herself, yet it fit her perfectly. She liked that it wasn’t showy or attention-demanding. It was something her grandmother would have worn, which made her feel a little melancholy. Her grandmother had died when Shawn was twenty, and she and Pops had enjoyed a fifty-year marriage.
The thought of their love and commitment had her reaching for her margarita again.
“It’s gorgeous,” Harley agreed. “Rhett, did you pick that out?”
“Yes. It just looked like it would suit Shawn.”
“Are you going to have a reception or anything?” Charity asked.
“We’re having a party, not a full-blown reception. On Valentine’s Day,” Rhett told her.
As he spoke, his hand covered hers, his finger stroking over the wedding band with a clear display of possessiveness that made her uncomfortable. What was he doing here, by the way?
“If you need any help, let us know,” Nolan said mildly, like it was perfectly natural for any of this to be happening. “We have the race on Sunday, obviously, but V-Day is Wednesday this year, so I can help you out on Monday and Tuesday.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Rhett looked genuinely touched by his brother’s support.
Shawn pictured this evening times ten at a wedding reception on Valentine’s Day, of all days, paper hearts and doilies barfed all over her house, congratulations, curious stares, and the knowledge that she was a massive fraud, and she just wanted to get drunk.
But when she reached for her margarita, Rhett actually moved it out of her reach. “What are you doing?” She stretched further, and he put his hand over hers to stop her progress.
“I just did a double shot of tequila. I think you should drive us home, not me.”
Was he fucking kidding her? “I didn’t tell you to take a shot!” And what was this about going home anyway? Whose home? She had fully intended to spend tonight alone with her rabbit. The vibrating kind, not the furry kind.
“But I did. So would you mind driving us home?”
His tone was even, but his eyes said something she didn’t understand. Shawn felt confused, miserable, and in desperate need of an orgasm. If she said yes, she did mind, she would just sound petulant. Besides, she probably shouldn’t argue with her fake husband on her wedding-night outing with friends. It would look a little sketchy.
“Of course I don’t mind.” Big. Fat. Lie. “Though I guess we should discuss these things right off the bat, shouldn’t we?”
“Communication is key to a successful marriage,” Charity said confidently.
“How the hell would you know?” Eve asked. “You’re not married.”
“So?”
They started to argue, and Shawn sat back, glad the spotlight was off her. An hour later, she was more than ready to leave and massage her cheeks out of their lockjaw from fake smiling.
But of course, that presented a different set of issues. Rhett held her coat out for her, and when she slipped her arms into it, he said, “Just let me get my bag out of Nolan’s truck, then we can go.”
He really was coming with her, and she couldn’t ask him what the hell he thought he was doing in front of everyone else. That it was manipulative and rude.
After hugging her friends and smiling and waving in the parking lot, she climbed into her car and wished for death. It would be preferable to this bullshit. Why had she thought she could do this?
This was the stupidest, most ill-conceived plan ever on the face of the planet, and she was going to be struck by lightning and die for lying to her closest friends. Either that or end up in prison after murdering Rhett. A girl was entitled to her cocktail, thank you very much, and if he valued his junk, in the future he would not do that. It was patronizing and it pissed her off.
She was going to have to establish some ground rules.
He got in the passenger seat and smiled at her. “That went well.”
Why did his smile disarm her anger? Maybe because he didn’t really smile all that often. When he did, she felt . . . special. Gag. The tension was causing her to lose it. “Not really.”
“I’m not really sure it could have gone any differently. All things considered, everyone reacted pretty calmly.”
Whatever. “Why did you show up there? And why are you in my car? You could at least give me a little warning, you know.” So she could have been somewhere else.
Rhett just gave her a very calm, very matter-of-fact shrug. “Because you would have tried to talk me out of it. Or you would have gotten way too nervous waiting for me to show up. And the truth is, no one was going to believe this marriage is real if we didn’t go home together tonight. What bride and groom don’t want to be together on their wedding night?”
He had a point.
Shawn threw her car into reverse. “You’re pretty damn good at this, you know that? Have you been fake married before?”
“No. This is my one and only time. So I plan to make it count.”
A shiver tripped up her spine, and it wasn’t from the winter temperatures. It was from anticipation.