Legally in Love Boxed Set 1

by Jennifer Griffith

  “What’s her father say?” Grandma plucked a peanut from the bowl and crunched it with the shell still on. “I mean, you’ve asked his permission, right?”

  One of many wedding details he’d overlooked and would have to forgo.

  “Never mind. I can see by the look on your face you’ve omitted this convention. However, I’m here to tell you, that’s not a detail to skip, sonny boy.” She spit the shells into her hand.

  Someone stuck a coin in the jukebox in the corner, and it started blasting Bon Jovi.

  “I would have asked, for sure, but I’m kind of in a rush, Grandma. The wedding’s tomorrow morning, and—it’s an unusual situation.”

  With narrowed eyes, Grandma Vada leaned in.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, Zach. Pregnant girlfriend is not an unusual situation.”

  Pregnant! Zach opened his mouth to protest, give her the truth, but she held up a hand to stop his retort.

  “Regardless. You still have to call the father. It’s non-negotiable.”

  She was putting her foot down, and Zach regretted coming down here—even though she was right, as always.

  “Quick. Give me your smarty phone. I know how to look up any number in the U.S. You can dial it in a jiffer. Any dad worth his salt doesn’t give a rip about how late it is when a young man calls up to ask for his daughter’s hand. Especially a young man like you.”

  Zach didn’t hand over the phone. The number wasn’t in the U.S. In fact, he didn’t know the guy’s first name, other than Mr. Quinn, or even the city where he lived in New Zealand.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but like I say…”

  Wait. He did know one phrase: Hobbit Household Estates.

  “I got it, Grandma.” He yanked his phone from his pocket and started searching. A minute or two of searching and then—there! “Got it.”

  “Fine. I have to wipe up a spill over there, but don’t be surprised if I shoot over here to listen in when you do get hold of him.” She gave him a missing-tooth grin, and he realized he had come by his eavesdropping tendencies naturally.

  There wasn’t a directory of membership, just one phone number—for a Mayor Ebbles. After a quick calculation of the time difference, he figured it was an okay hour to call.

  Zach dialed, using New Zealand’s country code first.

  “Top of the afternoon to you. Have you had thirds yet?”

  “Thanks, sir. I’m calling from the United States, and I’ve had all my meals for the day. It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Ho, ho, ho. Then it’s time for your midnight snack, I’d say.”

  “Eating it now.” He crunched a peanut to prove himself. It figured, this conversation veering off-center. “Looking for a fellow you might know, a Mr. Quinn. He has a daughter in Texas, U.S.A.”

  “Indeed. The beautiful Piper Quinn. We’ve been moving heaven and earth and Middle Earth to get her here. Alderman Quinn’s daughter is much adored by all of us. Can’t seem to quite make it happen yet, much to my son’s disappointment.” He sounded wistful. “She’d be a perfect match for my boy. He loves a woman who can cook, and our whole colony is crying out in desperate need of another chef. The meals are the most important part of a hobbit’s day, you know.”

  Sounded like meals were the most important part of this guy’s life. Zach’s hackles raised. This meal-obsessed mayor had a son pining for Piper. Hearing him, frankly, Zach could see that Piper was smart to refuse to go to New Zealand, as it sounded like she was going to be turned into a cooking slave for a hive of food addicts.

  He might as well shut down the guy’s fantasy right now.

  “I’m afraid Piper Quinn will be off the market shortly. I’m calling her father to ask his permission to marry her.” When the line went silent, Zach thought for a moment he’d lost the connection. “Mayor Ebbles? You there?”

  “I’m here. But you obviously lack knowledge of the etiquette of our colony.”

  Did colony refer to this hobbit thing, or did it mean New Zealand? He didn’t mean to offend the whole nation.

  “Please tell me what is proper, then.”

  “I’ll educate you, boy.” A sneer had come into this guy’s voice, and Zach grew even more suspicious. “Before the offspring of any one of our Households can marry, not only must the father’s permission be granted, but the blessing of the mayor must also be sought.”

  Suppressing a snort, Zach responded with as much respect as he could fake.

  “I see. Well, it’s good I contacted you first.” Zach shifted now into his professional, attorney mode. “Now that you’re aware of the situation and have been consulted, you’ll please give me the number to Alderman Quinn. The Alderman should also have a say in the matter. I’m sure you’d agree.”

  There was some gurgling, but eventually the mayor coughed up a phone number. Zach hung up fast before the guy could officially deny permission.

  “Smooth maneuvering on the hobbit king there, my boy.” Grandma elbowed him. She’d been listening.

  “Easier to get forgiveness than permission.”

  Actually, he’d played it too risky. Dialing the other number, hoping it wasn’t a fake, Zach chewed the inside of his cheek. It’d better not be a fake, or he’d be up a creek. That last call was nothing; this one was everything, by contrast—his first introduction to Piper’s parents, and the thread by which both their futures hung.

  Grandma sidled up to him, listening hard. When it rang, she gouged his ribs.

  “Get it, get it, boy.”

  “Hello, Mr. Quinn?”

  “Hallo! Hallo! And who may you be? And what may you be wanting?” He didn’t pause for an answer, but went on, “It’s a Monday the fifteenth, though. I’m in the middle of my scheduled routine. Permanent wave day, you know.”

  “For hair? For a man?” Grandma Vada coughed next to him, interrupting. “That went out with Hammer pants.”

  “Yes, of course for hair.” Mr. Quinn had heard her. Zach shot her a shut-it look, and she looked at the ground, repentant, miming a zipping of her lips. “You ever see a straight-haired hobbit? No indeed.” Then he broke into a belly laugh, and Zach exhaled.

  “I’m calling on important business, sir. I want to marry your daughter.”

  “Chad? You sound different. I never thought you’d get up the nerve, actually.”

  There was no way he was going to touch that one.

  “Actually, my name is Zach Travis. I’ve probably jumped the gun, but I already proposed to Piper, and she has accepted. We’re planning on getting married in the morning.”

  Beside him, Grandma Vada clutched her chest, her eyes bulging like a bullfrog’s.

  “Morning is the best time to marry. All the best marriages rise with the sun. I happen to know a Tolkien-esque poem about that. Penned it meself. May I sing it for you? I have set it to music on my lute. Just a second while I find the thing…”

  A crashing sound came from the other end of the line.

  “Must have left it in the elderberry garden…”

  “Does this mean I have your permission, then, sir?”

  “For a morning wedding? Of course.” More crashing and rummaging sounds followed. Zach didn’t care. He had the permission.

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll take good care of Piper for as long as she is mine.” How long that may be, he had no idea.

  “Just a moment. Just a moment. I have the lute now, and—by gum. Where is the sheet music? Never mind. I’ll record it and send it to you as a wedding gift. It’ll be better as a duet with my wife. Watch for it. Is this a good number to send it to?”

  Zach said yes and then hung up, a line of sweat forming along the back of his neck.

  Grandma Vada stood frowning, hands on her hips, the bar cloth tucked into the band of her jeans.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Did you just phone an asylum?”

  “Please. You’re one to talk.” He headed for the door. He could use some fresh air. “Imagine how it sounded to him on the ot
her end. I’m listening to Bon Jovi here.”

  “He was impressed by your taste in music, obviously.”

  “Not.” Zach headed outside, and the quiet of the dark night almost felt like deafness after the noise of Hog Wild. The stars beamed down on him.

  Grandma followed. “Zach, I never said it, but congratulations. I’m happy for you. I’ll bet she’s a real sweet girl. Bring her by the repair shop as soon as you get back from your honeymoon.”

  Honeymoon. He hadn’t even thought about that, well, not specifically, as in planning a trip anywhere. If he didn’t leave work for at least a day or two, he’d never be able to sell that it was a real marriage.

  “I’ll do that, Grandma.” He kissed her cheek, walked past fifty or so motorcycles with an absurd amount of chrome and drove home to his last night as a single man. For how long that status would endure, he didn’t know, which fact bothered him more than it should have.

  ∞∞∞

  Piper fidgeted with her hair. She’d taken a taxi down to the courthouse even though it was only five blocks from her apartment. How would it have been to walk solo to the courthouse in a wedding dress? It’d be like some bizarre, inverse walk of shame, that was how it would have been.

  She didn’t have a veil because Birdie hadn’t provided one. This was all so backwards—going alone to a courthouse instead of accompanied by her mother to the little church where she’d always attended as a girl and still attended now, with her church choir friends singing some praise number, and the preacher saying the words May God bless your union. Did judges or marriage officers say those kinds of things? She’d rather have God bless their sham marriage than a judge not bless it. Again, she’d trapped herself into a bizarre, inverse way of doing things.

  Not ideal.

  Neither were the circumstances.

  In fact, off she rode, in a borrowed dress, with no bouquet of wildflowers, and no parents, and no church, to marry a man she’d never even kissed. Now, it was one thing to be personally and privately insistent on abstinence until marriage, but even Piper Quinn, adamant about her abstinence, had never intended to take it this far.

  “Wedding day?” the cabbie asked. “Ride’s on me. Good luck. May God bless your union.”

  Piper stood slack-jawed at his words as he pulled away, leaving her on the cement curb in front of the Bexar County Courthouse, her knees shaking.

  “Piper? You look…” Zach came across the plaza and took her by both hands. “Wow.”

  “Thanks.” She looked him up and down. He was in a nicer suit than she’d seen before, a deep blue, and he had a bouquet of flowers which he handed to her. Texas bluebonnets! He’d even taken them out of the cellophane and put a ribbon around the stems. Unexpected. Unless he picked them himself—no cellophane involved—in which case, wildflowers: check.

  “You had a wedding dress on hand?” he asked.

  “Borrowed from a neighbor.”

  “It’s…yowza.” His eyes roamed all over her, and she felt her neck get hot. Birdie had altered it a little, as Piper’s waist was a little narrower. She’d resisted, but Birdie had insisted, and now she felt so pretty, basking in Zach’s gaze.

  “Are we going to, uh—?”

  He took her arm, linking it through his, and next thing she knew, her signature was declaring herself not a sibling or niece or aunt of Zach Travis, and the document was getting stamped and notarized, and she was about to be…committing another fraud.

  Piper Quinn: fraud. If they had a scarlet letter A for that girl Hester Prynne, how many words could a neon yellow letter F on Piper’s apron stand for? Fraud, felon, fool. Three was a start. If ICE caught her in her lies, pretty soon she could add fugitive.

  “You two are the prettiest couple we’ve ever had in here,” the clerk said as she placed her final signature on the document. “And it’s obvious how in love you are. Just look at that glow.”

  Piper glanced up at Zach. He didn’t miss a beat but slid an arm around her waist and tugged her close, sending tingles up and down her body. “Today I’m the luckiest man in San Antone.”

  Nerves made Piper’s mouth twitch, but she eked out an, “Oh, Zach. You’re the sweetest,” at which point he leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead.

  His lips on her skin. Fireworks splashed sparks all through her body.

  They signed the paperwork for their marriage license. The clerk handed it over with a smile.

  “Shewsh! It’s early for a Monday, but there’s almost been a line today. Another couple came in already this morning.” She glanced at the clock.

  “Another couple, huh?” For some reason, Zach stiffened. “Just as anxious as we are, I guess.”

  “It must be the morning for it. They’ll see the judge first, and then you two can go in. They didn’t dress up as fancy as the two of you, but,” the clerk sighed, “the little Asian woman looks smart in her suit. It’s almost like a business-themed wedding.”

  “Isn’t that nice?” Zach didn’t sound like he thought that was nice. “But we’re not waiting for the judge. Thanks.” He pulled Piper out of the office, toting the marriage certificate.

  “Wait, Zach. Where are we going?” What the heck? Not see the judge? Her mind went tumbling as fast as her stomach. Then it landed with a deafening thud: he was backing out. His conscience got the better of him. The mention of the business-themed wedding for the little Asian woman had finally made him crack.

  “Zach?”

  They were already down the hallway and out the front door onto the plaza. He seemed upset, his eyes laser-focused on a building across the street. His mouth was set in a line, and he took her down to the curb to hail a cab. None stopped immediately.

  Piper was getting scared. Maybe he’d found out about her falsified birth certificate and up to now could deal with it, but at the final minute changed his mind. Her palms started to sweat.

  And then her phone beeped. It was a text from Mitzi.

  I know you’re out at the farmer’s market shopping for today’s meal, but this proof just came in for the billboard campaign. Do you love it?

  Beneath the text was a photo attachment, and when Piper touched to expand it, her heart sank. Du Jour, it read, with a huge, toothy-grinning picture of Piper’s face and a beautiful plate of food—crab legs and Caesar’s salad—with the caption Lunch lovingly created for you by Piper Quinn.

  “What?” Zach leaned over and looked. “Wow. Looks delicious. The food’s not too bad, either.” When she shoved his arm, he asked, “What’s that for?”

  “It’s—oh heavens, I can’t believe I’m saying this. It’s going to be a billboard along I-10.”

  “You’re going to be a billboard babe? Nice.”

  “Come on, Zach. This isn’t nice. She didn’t tell me this was what the advertising budget was going for.”

  “But it looks good. Gorgeous food cooked by a beautiful woman? Every man alive is going to find that irresistible.”

  Piper shook her head. Her hand was shaking too. Now the restaurant was inextricably tied to Piper, her name, her face, and anything else would make the ad a lie—false advertising. Now, seriously, no other chef could be hired to replace her.

  “I’m really sorry, Zach. This makes it worse.”

  “Makes what worse?” Just then a cab rolled up and they got in. It was the same cabbie as before.

  “The fact you don’t want to marry me. That you have cold feet.”

  “What are you talking about?” He gave the driver an address on Navarro Street.

  “The fact that as soon as we were going to have to wait an additional few minutes for the judge, you bolted. I totally understand, though. It’s okay.” The shaking had moved from her hand to her legs and her stomach. “I can tell Mitzi. I’ll—I’ll just buy my plane ticket.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m not letting you go waste your magnificent cooking skills on that bunch of ingrates. This city needs you.”

  Ingrates? What was he talking about?

  T
he cab pulled up at a large, old Spanish-style church. Zach paid the fare and helped her out of the car.

  “Where are we?”

  “San Fernando’s. You’re not disappointed, are you? I just figured you for the church wedding type, more than the courthouse type. I called to see if someone would be available this early to perform it, and they were more than happy to send down Father Ryan.”

  “Father Ryan?” Piper blinked up at the cathedral tower in the morning sun. Her eyes rested on the belfry that had chimed out the hours of her life every day for the past year while she’d worked in this neighborhood. It was like a friend. “Really, Zach?”

  “I know you’re not Catholic. Neither am I. Father Ryan is willing to perform the civil ceremony for us, though. Really nice of him.”

  “I didn’t know they did that.” Piper took Zach’s arm and he led her up the steps. It was almost like her dream wedding, minus her parents and maybe her choir. She could live without the choir.

  Inside, Father Ryan greeted them, his round face accentuated by a rounded haircut and round, wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Ah, the Travis wedding. Wonderful!” He clasped them by both hands. “What a busy morning!” Piper wondered what he meant by this as he ushered them inside the high-ceilinged vestibule off to the side of the main chapel.

  Father Ryan smiled and said, “Look, friends. We’re in luck.” He wasn’t talking to Piper and Zach, though. Instead, his comments were directed to another couple in the office already. “It’s not like the cat dragged them in, but we’ve serendipitously rounded up witnesses for your marriage.”

  Zach’s grip tightened like a vise on her hand.

  “Eisenhower and Nakamura. I didn’t know you were even dating.”

  ∞∞∞

  “You know them?” Piper asked Zach, her voice low. Usually he’d take a second and bask in how those alto tones made the blood in his veins quiver, but not with Eisenhower sitting here in front of him, scowling. And wow. Eisenhower’s woman sported a scowl of her own that could stop a clock. “What a coincidence.”

  “It’s no coincidence.” Somehow Eisenhower had caught wind of Zach’s plans and tried to copy them. Zach set his teeth and seethed in Eisenhower’s direction.