Twelve
Lola
“Is that really what you’re going to wear?” Ginger said.
“Yep.” I pulled my jeans on and headed for the closet to pick out a shirt. Bobbie, Ginger, and I had crowded into my small bedroom and Ginger was doing her best to talk me into wearing something sexy for my phony till-death-do-us-part.
She held up a low cut silky top in a delicious shade of aubergine. “This one’s pretty.”
I brushed past her and scraped the hangers across the rail until I found what I was looking for. “There you are.” I held the hanger out for inspection. The black T-shirt I’d chosen depicted Mickey Mouse leaning into a microphone and belting out a tune.
Bobbie’s hands flew to her mouth. “Mickey Mouse!”
My smile was slow. “Isn’t Disneyland the place where you wish upon a star?” I shrugged into the shirt.
“At least let me fix your hair,” Ginger said. “I work magic with a curling iron.”
I strode into the bathroom and brushed my hair furiously. “I look fine.”
“How about a little makeup?” Ginger said.
I rummaged through my medicine cabinet until I found my scarlet lipstick. “This’ll do.” I swiped a crimson streak across my lips and pursed them together. “Perfect.”
My body sagged a little when I looked at Ginger’s disappointed face. She’d been eager to fix me up, dressing me in fancy clothing like this was a real wedding.
“Am I really doing this?”
“Well, you could certainly do worse than Justice,” Ginger said.
“You’ll win some big bucks,” Bobbie said. She rubbed her hands together. “Fifty grand’s a good start. Once you get ahold of the money, we’ll start your investment portfolio, you’ll quit the bank and, oh, you know, it’s going to be a whole new life.”
The only reason I’d agreed to this scam was because of the money. Bobbie was right. Fifty-grand would be a fantastic start for Brazilian Gypsy – Bikinis by Lola. Hopefully even enough to lease a location for my retail store.
I would win the money, and that would be that.
A sharp rap sounded on the front door and Ginger whirled around. “He’s here!” She smoothed down my shirt, fluffed up my hair and said, “Knock ‘em dead.”
When I opened the door, Justice stood there holding his motorcycle helmet, wearing jeans, a black leather jacket, and black boots. His thick hair fell messily around his shoulders, and his five o’clock shadow was starting to grow into a sexy beard. Eu caramba. I yearned to touch his sculpted face and run my fingers over the stubble.
His blue eyes were the color of the ocean, and I remembered the way he loved to gaze at me every time we made love. A sensation of warmth flooded my body and much as I resisted it, my fingers ached with the desire to feel Justice’s body, my hands roaming over every hard muscle.
“Whoa. You look fantastic,” he said. “You remembered how much I love Mickey Mouse!” When he smiled that Justice Hamilton smile that had always made me feel a deep joy in my belly, I almost felt happy about the adventure of our fake marriage. Almost. “Ready?”
Ginger looked at Justice and placed her hands on her hips. “Are you really making Lola ride on the back of your bike?”
Bobbie trotted to my side until she stood between Ginger and me. “I think it’ll be fun.” She affected a dreamy look. “The wind in your hair, the open road.” Her eyes flicked to Justice, and her face turned red. “With … you know … her husband.”
My throat grew dry. “He’s not … I mean … This is just … It’s only ….” I threw my hands in the air. “Let’s just go.”
The room became silent as everyone stared at me. My face, neck, and ears felt impossibly hot. Were we really doing this? I swallowed. Then I swallowed again.
Justice threw me a grin and held his arm out. I forced myself to take it, and when I touched his muscular bicep, my mind immediately jumped to what it would be like to feel my breasts pressed up against the warmth of his back as we rode his motorcycle. My body tingled with anticipation.
I gripped his arm, and together we walked into the La Fortuna sunshine, Bobbie and Ginger’s giddy goodbyes fading into the background.
We reached the curb where he’d parked the Triumph, and Justice handed me my helmet with a deep bow. “For you, my fairy princess.”
I grabbed the helmet. “Just give it to me.”
I stuffed my hair carefully under the helmet. Justice swung his leg over the seat and gripped the handlebars. The sight of him on the shiny Triumph was something straight out of a dumb romantic comedy. I took in a deep breath, let it out sharply, and joined my soon-to-be-husband on the bike.
His hand touched my thigh in a protective manner. “Keep your legs close in. Lean into me and hold on tight. All settled?”
Why did he have to be so nice?
The thing of it was, I loved the way Justice took care of me when we’d dated. He always made sure I was warm, giving me his sweatshirt on a chilly evening. He opened doors for me and pulled my chair out even if all we were doing was eating at a local taqueria.
He cranked up the bike, and the vibration shot through my body. Along with my tight grip on Justice’s firm waist, the world came into sharp focus and it felt like no time at all had passed since we were together as a couple. I laid my head on Justice’s shoulder for a moment, closed my eyes, and inhaled his saltwater scent.
We were nearly to the courthouse when Justice pulled into a drugstore parking lot. “What are you doing?”
He swung one leg over the bike and held up a finger. “Be right back.”
I watched him walk to a gumball machine, insert a quarter, and put the prize into his pocket. When he emerged from the store, he picked a hibiscus flower from a nearby bush. He trotted to my side and handed me the bloom with a bow. “Your bouquet, my bride.” He became thoughtful and touched his chin. “Remember when we were kids and we went down to the corner store and got that cheap-o ring and gave it to your dad?”
I remembered very well. I’d been intent on matchmaking my papai with the adorable woman I’d hand-picked for him. The toy ring was my idea of what adults gave each other when they were in love. “’Course I remember.”
He reached into his pocket and with a flourish, he produced a toy diamond ring. “Your wedding ring, my love.”
“I am not impressed, Mr. Hamilton,” I said. Only I couldn’t stop smiling.
* * *
The justice of the peace was an African American woman. She was wearing a deep orange patterned top that I wanted to replicate in my bathing suit designs. Her eyes sparkled, and her cheekbones seemed to sit extra high from smiling so hard. “Best part of my job is performing wedding ceremonies.”
Justice and I held hands in the government office as others around us stood in line to get their business licenses or whatever the hell they were doing. I glanced around nervously convinced everyone could read the lie on my face. Stop it, Lola. Nobody cares.
The justice of the peace glowed with happiness as she hummed the melody of “Here Comes the Bride.” But she couldn’t hide her smile. “I love this job. You two ready?”
“Ready,” Justice said, a little too loudly.
She let out a giggle and elbowed him. “Fun’s just starting.”
She cleared her throat and began to read from what looked like a government-issue manual.
“Justice and Lola, today you celebrate one of life’s greatest moments and give recognition to the worth and beauty of love as you join together in matrimony.”
Justice gripped my hand tightly and gave me a happy grin.
The officiant continued to read, speaking in a light, bubbly voice. “Justice and Lola, just as two very different threads woven in opposite directions can form a beautiful tapestry, so can your two lives merge to form a very beautiful marriage. To make your marriage work will take love.”
Love? Make it a business arrangement.
“Love should be the core of your marriage, love is the reason you are here. But it also will take trust—to know in your hearts you want the best for each other. It will take dedication—to stay open to one another; to learn and to grow together even when it’s not easy to do.”
Trust? Dedication? Just until we win the contest, lady.
She regarded my soon-to-be fake husband. “Justice, do you take Lola, to be your wife?”
Justice gazed at me through hooded eyes that were filled with something that looked suspiciously like love. Or maybe it was just plain old-fashioned lust. His voice was low and sexy as all get out. “I do.”
“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only unto her?”
Justice looked deeply into my eyes while his thumb made a slow trail across my hand, sending shock waves up my arm. He smiled and nodded. “I do.”
She cleared her throat again. “Lola, do you take Justice to be your husband?”
The pupils of Justice’s deep blue eyes were unusually large as he gazed into mine, waiting for my response. “I … I do.”
“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only unto him?”
The room felt too hot, and I had trouble swallowing. “Yes. I mean … I do.”
“It will take faith to be willing to go forward to tomorrow, never really knowing what tomorrow will bring. In addition, it will take commitment, to hold true to the journey you both now pledge to share together.”
She raised her head from the book and smiled. “Do you have the rings?”
Shit. I didn’t get Justice a ring.
Justice pulled the toy diamond ring out of his pocket.
“Repeat after me,” she said, and Justice followed her instructions.
“I Justice, take you, Lola, to be my wife. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, and I promise my love to you. With this ring I thee wed.”
Were we really doing this? I shuddered as a sensation of warmth flooded my body. I briefly closed my eyes and took a long, deep savoring breath of my ex-boyfriend’s delicious masculine aroma—a combination of the surf and the sun with maybe a bit of motorcycle grease.
My eyelids fluttered open, and Justice gazed at me with affectionate eyes. He slid the toy ring onto my ring finger. His touch lingered on my sensitive hand, and he kissed each knuckle in turn, his eyes never leaving mine. We stared at each other, and I unconsciously parted my lips.
“I didn’t think to get you a ring,” I whispered.
He smiled. “That’s okay.”
The justice of the peace held up a hand.
“No matter. Marriage is about more than jewelry. Lola, repeat after me.” She recited the lines, and I repeated them. “I, Lola, take Justice to be my husband. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, and I promise my love to you.”
The world spun around me. I was actually marrying Justice. I drew in a shaky breath to try to ward off the light-headedness. The rest of the words went by in a blur as I closed my eyes and with my free hand, touched my temple. Calm down! I had made a pact with myself.
The justice of the peace clasped the book to her chest and tears filled her eyes. “Congratulations, you may kiss your bride.”
Justice licked his lips. Then his strong hand gripped the back of my head, and he pulled me hard into his kiss.
Holy smoking …
It had been so long since Justice’s lips touched mine I didn’t know how to react. My lips froze, and my body became rigid. I suddenly became hyper-aware of the onlookers, probably eager for a bit of romance in their own lives. I gave him a loud smack, and pulled away, flustered.
His calloused finger brushed my cheek. “It’s okay, Lola. We can finish this later.”
We may’ve just been legally wed, and maybe Justice thought a kiss was romantic, but no flipping way was he getting into my heart. Or my panties.
My body had other ideas as he gazed into my eyes and gave me a lopsided grin. His finger tilted my chin up until our gaze was locked. “It’s our wedding day.”
My panties grew wet, and I wanted to glance away. But I couldn’t take my eyes off of my husband. Why’d he have to be so darn handsome, with his mussed up hair, super kissable lips, and sexy blue eyes?
This wasn’t exactly the dream wedding I’d envisioned with Justice when we were two crazy kids in love. But still. My heart reacted with a flip-flop of joy.
Holy shit.