by Tara Wyatt
She could feel Hunter’s solid frame in the bed beside her, could hear his deep breathing. She shifted in the bed and knocked against something hard and cold. With a frown, she reached down into the sheets and pulled out an empty champagne bottle. She stared at it for a second, trying to remember where it had come from, and that’s when she saw it: the delicate little ring on her finger that she didn’t recognize. It was a slender silver band that held a solitary moonstone. It was pretty, actually, but she didn’t really remember…where…
“Oh, shit,” she whispered, still clutching the empty champagne bottle and staring at the ring. Her mind lurched along with her stomach as snippets of last night came back to her, floating to the surface of her memory like submerged lily pads in a pond. Gambling in the Paris casino, Hunter making her all kinds of crazy bets. She’d promised him a date, which he’d doubled down on and won two dates. Then he’d bet an exorbitant amount of money on the roulette table, had kissed her for luck and bet her that if he won, they’d hop over to the little chapel and get married.
Everything went really fuzzy after that, save for a few swirling, nebulous images of a veil, a chapel, and a kiss. She sat up and the room spun sickly around her for a moment. She pressed a hand to her forehead and took several deep breaths through her nose, trying to calm her stomach down. A cheap looking veil sat discarded on the floor, and as she stared at it, another memory pushed to the surface of Hunter helping her try it on in the little store at the front of the chapel.
Oh, God. They’d gotten married.
“Shit shit shit shit,” she mumbled to herself, panic rising in her chest and tightening her throat, which did nothing to help the sick feeling rolling through her stomach. Still staring at the veil, she reached over and gave Hunter a shake. “Hunter, wake up.” She shook him again, and when he still didn’t move, she turned to look at him.
Sprawled on his stomach with his arms on either side of his head, he snored softly. And on his left ring finger was a simple silver band.
Panic and nausea danced together, making sweat break out along her hairline. “Hunter,” she said, louder this time as she gave his shoulder a hard shove. His snoring faltered slightly but he still didn’t move. Frustration took over and she grabbed her pillow and hit him with it. “Hunter, wake the hell up!”
He let out a small little groan as his head jerked up off the pillow, his eyes still mostly closed. “Wha? What time is it?”
She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. She didn’t have time to process the literally hundreds of texts and emails blowing up her notifications right now. Great. So much for keeping this debacle secret. “Almost eleven.”
He yawned and rolled over, tucking his arm under his pillow. Marlowe rose up onto her knees, her own pillow clutched in her hands. She thumped him with it with each word. “Hunter. Blake. Wake. Up. Now!”
He sat up and pushed a hand through his sleep rumpled hair, leaving it standing up at an awkward but endearing angle. He rubbed his eyes and then let out a hiss.
“Ah, shit. I slept with my contacts in last night. Hang on.” He threw the sheets back and padded—completely naked—into the bathroom. Marlowe could only watch his muscled ass as it disappeared.
How had this happened? What were they going to do? With a little sigh, she managed to pull herself out of bed. She looked down and saw that she was wearing nothing but Hunter’s T-shirt. Her husband’s T-shirt. She pulled open the mini-fridge and helped herself to a bottle of water, twisting the cap off and draining it. She set the empty bottle down on the table and then sank back down onto the bed. Hunter emerged from the bathroom, wearing a pair of glasses and boxer briefs. She’d never seen him in glasses before, and she had to admit, they were sexy as hell. Not that now was really the time for thoughts like that. They had bigger things to deal with.
He held up his left hand. “Uh, where did this come from?”
She picked up the champagne bottle and her veil, holding them up like evidence in a court case. “I’m pretty sure we got married last night.”
She hadn’t been sure what kind of reaction to expect from him. Shock, maybe, or an apology for letting things get out of hand. Panic, like the kind clawing at her throat right now. So she was completely thrown when a wide grin spread across his face. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Seriously?”
She set the veil and champagne bottle down and twisted her fingers in front of her. “Um, well, I think so. I don’t…exactly…remember.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, but that Cheshire grin stayed firmly in place. Then he looked down at his ring and then back up at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the nausea roiling through her crested and she pressed a hand to her mouth and sprinted to the bathroom.
Once she was finished emptying the contents of her stomach, she sat on the cold floor for several moments, trying to get her bearings. Okay, so they’d gotten married. They could just…undo it, right? Get it annulled or whatever? She dropped her head into her hands, feeling as though her entire world had been turned upside down. A soft knock sounded on the bathroom door.
“Marlowe? You okay in there?” came Hunter’s muffled voice from the other side of the door.
“Yeah,” she said, pushing up off the floor. “Just brushing my teeth.”
“I found something out here you’ll want to see.”
She hastily grabbed her toothbrush, squirted some toothpaste on it with shaking hands, shoved it into her mouth, then pulled the door open. “Wha?”
He held out a white folder embossed with gold, his expression unreadable. She took it and flipped it open. On the left side was a marriage certificate bearing each of their signatures, and on the other was a picture of her and Hunter, walking back down the aisle hand in hand, smiling at each other like a couple of goofy, love-struck kids. Her toothbrush started to slip out of her mouth and she clamped down on it with her lips just in time. She’d seen so many pictures of herself over the course of her career, but she’d never seen one like this. Never seen one so…real. So true. She looked so carefree, so happy, so completely absorbed in Hunter, basking in the way he was looking at her. Everything she’d fought so hard to suppress, to keep locked away, was right there, shining through like a sunbeam cutting through clouds.
She didn’t want to fall in love with Hunter. She’d told herself she wouldn’t let it happen, but apparently, when she hadn’t been paying attention, it already had.
“We have to undo this. Get an annulment or something. This…no.” She shook her head and handed the folder back to him, then went back in the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth. When she came back out, Hunter was looking down at the photo, a thoughtful, almost wistful expression on his face.
Guilt ate at her like rust on metal as she looked at him. She didn’t deserve him, didn’t deserve his kindness or his…anything, really, because she couldn’t return it. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but that she didn’t know how to without losing herself and setting herself up for unbearable pain in the process.
He sank down onto the love seat, still looking at the folder’s contents. She walked over to the table where she’d left her phone and picked it up, ignoring all of the notifications, knowing she’d have to deal with them later, but right now, she had more important things to deal with. She opened up her web browser and Googled “how to get an annulment.”
An awkward silence descended over the room, the weight of everything they weren’t saying filling up the space between them and making the air feel heavy. As she scrolled through websites gathering information, Hunter sat very still, still looking at the certificate and the picture. She had to admit, she wanted to know what was going through his mind right now, but she felt like asking that would be opening a can of worms she couldn’t handle. Finally, he let out a sigh, tossed the folder down on the love seat beside him, and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“You want some breakfast?” he asked. “I need somethin
g in my stomach.”
“Let’s order room service. I’m not ready to face the world yet.”
“Why? You think people know?”
“Given the number of emails and texts and missed calls I have, yeah, I’d say that’s a safe bet.” She almost choked on her last word and she let out a little laugh. “Remind me never to gamble with you again.”
He shot her a rueful smile, a tiny glint of the usual troublemaking Hunter shining through his hangover. And maybe something besides the hangover. He seemed…melancholy, especially compared to his usual self. “Right back atcha, Lolo,” he said, using the nickname she absolutely hated. She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed, then picked up the phone to order them some breakfast.
After he’d hung up, she let him know what she’d found. “So it looks like we both have to file a petition for annulment.”
“On what grounds?”
Her eyes skimmed down the page. “It says here that the possible grounds are if we’re related by blood…”
“Nope.”
“If we needed parental consent…”
“Also no.”
“One of us was legally married to someone else…”
“All clear there.”
“One of us is mentally incompetent…”
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but that ain’t one of ‘em.”
“Or, the last option, if consent was obtained fraudulently.” She shrugged and looked up at him. “I mean, you kinda tricked me with the bet and…”
He laughed. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. There was no trickery. I made you a bet, you agreed to it, I won fair and square.” He reached for the folder, opened it and held it up for her to see, pointing at their picture. “Does this look like I tricked you?”
“I look drunk.”
“Drunk in love.”
“Thank you, Beyonce.”
“I thought I was Rick Astley.”
She blew out a frustrated breath and dropped her phone onto the bed. “Fine. I guess it’ll have to be good old-fashioned divorce.” She pushed up off the bed and sat down beside him, taking his hand. His ring caught the light, winking at her. Something forlorn and almost dreamy twisted in her chest, but she pushed it away. “I’m sorry, Hunter.” She implored him with her eyes to understand just how sorry she was. Sorry for last night. Sorry she couldn’t give him more. Sorry he was probably hurting right now and it was her fault. “I’m really sorry.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to—” The rest of his sentence was cut off with a sharp knock on the door as their breakfast arrived. He stood, tugged on his discarded jeans and headed for the door.
They ate in silence, and all Marlowe could think about was the colossal mess she’d made.
CLICK HERE TO READ WILD CARD NOW!
Books by Tara Wyatt
Dallas Longhorns Series
Stealing Home
Wild Card
Caught Looking
Moon Shot
* * *
The Graysons
When Snowflakes Fall
Like Fresh Fallen Snow
Until the Sun Sets
The Complete Graysons Trilogy:
Can’t Help Falling in Love
* * *
The Blood and Glory Series
co-written with Harper St. George
Dirty Boxing
Take Down
No Contest
* * *
The Bodyguard Series
Necessary Risk
Primal Instinct
Chain Reaction
* * *
Standalone Titles
Royal Treatment
Nailed
Stripped
Little Blue Lines
* * *
For complete information on all of Tara’s books, visit www.tara-wyatt.com/books.
About the Author
Tara Wyatt is a contemporary romance and romantic suspense author. Known for her humor and steamy love scenes, Tara’s writing has won several awards, including the Golden Quill Award and the Booksellers’ Best Award. In 2018, she was a RITA® Finalist for her novella, Until the Sun Sets.
When she’s not hanging out with your next book boyfriend, she can be found reading, bingeing something on Netflix, and drinking wine. Tara lives in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada with her husband, daughter, and the world’s cutest dachshund.
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