Legally in Love Boxed Set 1

by Jennifer Griffith

  Even though that long-distance proposal from the oiled up fighter bothered Zach—a lot—from all outward indications, Piper Quinn was in it for the long haul as Piper Travis, whether she planned on taking Chad Floyd the ’Roid’s diamond next week or not, and doing irreparable damage to Zach’s heart.

  Good acting, at least, which would work well for their case on Friday.

  Friday. Geez. Blink and it was Friday.

  “I think I saw a little church house close to our street with services at noon,” Zach said, sidestepping all his doubts, since Piper appeared intent on doing so as well. He’d follow her lead, wherever it took him. With every passing day, he was getting more and more powerless to resist.

  “Let’s try that.” She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling and drawing him into them once again, filling his soul with those sparks.

  Yeah, this was a perilous tightrope he was walking.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The pastor delivered a long sermon on the Beatitudes—blessed are the meek, all that—but Piper heard very little of what was said. Her heart was stretched so far heavenward, it took her ears and full attention with them, even if outwardly she’d looked like the most rapt listener in the congregation.

  Please, please, tell me what to do. It almost became a mantra, she repeated it silently so many times. Please, please, tell me what to do.

  Her hands pressed together, and her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her blouse. Teacup poked her head out of Piper’s large purse, made eye contact, and then nestled down in again when the preacher started in on blessed are the peacemakers. Two rounds of church in one day was a lot to ask of a little dog.

  “You all right?” Zach slid an arm around her. “I’ll help you decide later what to make for tomorrow, if you want. I’m no chef, but I do love to eat.”

  Piper couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re the best.”

  “I know.” He grinned and turned his eyes back to the pastor.

  He really was the best. And she was married to him, which made them husband and wife, and which bound her to him, and created a family unit—in the eyes of the state and in the eyes of God.

  Please tell me what to do. Please. She couldn’t stop asking. She knew the question was too vague, too broad, to receive an answer. She should narrow it. But the question unsettling her wasn’t What should I cook for the critics tomorrow? or even How should I help Zach come up with a solid case for court to guarantee I’ll be able to stay? Neither of those covered it, even though she’d love divine guidance in both of those matters.

  But she knew God knew the real question of her heart. And that it referred to Zach.

  She hadn’t planned for any of this to happen: not the marriage, not the feelings blossoming inside her. There’d been no premeditated lying. Circumstances forced her into it.

  When the pastor sat down and the choir stood up to sing “The Old Rugged Cross,” a voice, not audible, but palpable nevertheless, penetrated her mind.

  You already know what’s right.

  She did? No, she didn’t, or she wouldn’t be asking, she wouldn’t be so desperate, so afraid.

  Afraid. That was it: Piper was afraid that what she wanted was right—and if it was, it changed everything.

  Chapter Twenty

  Piper awoke on the double bed in the master bedroom of the little house with the black shutters on Monday morning at four o’clock, her heart racing. Panic overtook her.

  Until she remembered—she hadn’t actually slept in this bed with Zach like she’d dreamed so vividly.

  No, Zach had been called in for work at his office right after church, and she hadn’t seen him since. She’d begged him not to go, in case Agent Valentine was watching, but he had cases that couldn’t wait, he said, but Piper knew from his tone he just needed to keep his distance from Piper—and temptation. She appreciated him for that. Exhaustion from travel and stress had overtaken her by six, and she’d fallen asleep on the comfortable bed—the one that didn’t have a leaky air mattress.

  She was still a good girl.

  She exhaled and fell against the down of the pillows, light streaming in through the white curtains and filling her with relief and gratitude.

  That fled quickly when she remembered what today was: the food critic day. What if no one showed up at the restaurant? If Du Jour was dead, customer-wise, the critics’ opinions would be swayed, no matter how the meal tasted.

  She turned on her side and hugged the pillow in worry. It smelled like Zach. She held it to her face, taking in his scent in his absence, imagining his warmth, his smile, his strength. Inside, her soul soared as free as it had when she was on the parasail at his side. Zach was freedom.

  Suddenly, she knew what she was going to make for the Texas Foodie Magazine critics.

  ∞∞∞

  Zach stared at his computer monitor. The blinking cursor was well-named. Curse, curse, curse. How was he supposed to know what to add to this document when his wife had been proposed to from a remote jungle by a man who looked like Tarzan on Testosterone, but with two Janes, one on each arm?

  Over and over his mind went back to Piper’s reaction. She’d taken it in stride, like it didn’t matter to her. Or like she’d expected it.

  He didn’t know. Zach wasn’t the worrying type, and in the past he’d never considered himself the possessive type. Then again, maybe he’d just never had a girl before so worth possessing.

  The heading of the document glared out at him from the screen: Petition for Clemency, followed by the date, Piper’s legal name, some addresses, and a quoted precedent of immigration law from 1976.

  That was as far as he’d gotten since four o’clock this morning when he finished his last briefs on the Karlovy case and switched gears.

  Which really meant he’d sat there, his mind’s eye roving over Piper’s face, her eyes, her curves, her skin, her mouth, for hours on end. Since when was he capable of a six-hour daydream?

  Since Piper.

  He couldn’t let her go. Not to ICE, not to the hobbits, not to this jerk in the jungle with too much baby oil and not enough brains to offer to marry her to keep her in the States instead of leaving for some…what? Fistfight in a foreign country?

  He did an internet search on Chad MMA. Nothing came up. Then he tried Floyd the ’Roid— and hit the six million hit jackpot. The first fifty referenced his wins in the jungle, as he said, the next were about his other wins. Some links described the take by the Las Vegas bookies on his tournament. Others hinted at possible endorsement contracts.

  Did Piper know about any of this? She had to, even if she hadn’t mentioned any of it.

  Dang. If this was what Zach was up against, he had his work cut out for him. However, he intended to fight. To go to the mattresses, even. And he did have at least one ace up his sleeve—the fact Piper already shared his last name and a signed marriage contract with him. Take that, steroid boy.

  His second ace was that jungle boy was still there in the jungle, and Zach was here—on Piper’s day with the magazine critics. Zach could support her physically on her big day, and Steroid Floyd was out of reach. Zach could step into the void.

  Since he’d been at the office all night, he hadn’t seen her yet this morning. An idea popped into his mind.

  Even if it was only ten a.m., a lot of the CBH crew had been in since six or earlier. Their stomachs already had lunch in their sights. A big crowd at Du Jour might tip the scales in Piper’s favor—social proof, kind of like the McDonald’s sign read Billions and Billions Served. Zach couldn’t cook, but he could arrange to pack the restaurant.

  “Cora.” Zach stood at her desk.

  She shot him the daggers she gave everyone. In a way it comforted him, the normalcy of it. While all other sands shifted, Cora’s surliness was bedrock. “I got you the private jet. What now? Do you know I had to bump Eisenhower? He and that so-called wife of his wanted it for a trip to Bermuda, but I rebooked it for you.”

  Zach swallowed sand. Tha
t revelation simultaneously elated and disturbed him. Did Eisenhower even know about that? If so, Zach had an even bigger target on his back, probably from both Eisenhower and Nakamura.

  “So, do you have lunch plans? Because I’m buying.”

  “What’s the catch?” So quick! Cora saw through everything.

  “The catch is, I’m buying for everyone in the office who wants to go.”

  “Please say it’s at Du Jour.” Cora rolled her eyes back in her head. “I’m not an idiot. I know why you snagged that girl, all of it. It’s not just because you’re a bleeding heart or that she has eyes like a Japanese anime character, half the size of her face.” She eyed him, seeing right to his core. Of course Cora knew about the quickie wedding—she’d been the catalyst of it. “It’s because you’re a closet foodie.”

  Bless her for her feigned ignorance. Zach could kiss her.

  “You found me out. And Piper needs your help.”

  “My help?” Cora snorted. “If it involves eating her food, I can totally hook her up.”

  “It does. And raving about it aloud. At the restaurant. But I’ll need a steady stream of CBH employees to go over the course of the lunch hour. My treat. The one request is they leave a great tip and gush about the food.”

  “So you need it scheduled, one lawyer or clerk after another rolling in—and then rolling out with their bellies full.”

  “You so get it, Cora. Your mind. It’s like lighting.” He slapped down his credit card. “Would you be willing to take the first shift and pay for as many people as sign up? The place opens at eleven.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll stay for all three shifts, if you want. You got it, Travis.”

  ∞∞∞

  “How are you being so calm about this? You fascinate me.” Mitzi paced back and forth in the kitchen behind Piper. “Your knife. It’s not even shaking while you cut up those chipotle peppers, which smell divine, by the way. So smoky.”

  “I got up early and found them at the farmers’ market. We really do have the best market.”

  “Uh-huh.” Mitzi snitched one from off the grill and groaned in food-pleasure. “But still. How are you not freaking out? I’m freaking out, and it’s not even my job to cook.”

  Piper used tongs to pull a piece of meat off the grill. It was perfect. “It’s not like we’re going to know which diners are from the magazine, anyway. So I’ll just make the best food I can, like I would every day for the people who eat here, the best I can.”

  “Oh, I know why you’re so calm. You slept with him.”

  Piper dropped her tongs. “What?”

  “Okay, if not, then you’re in love with him.”

  “With Chad? You saw his proposal, too?”

  Now it was Mitzi’s turn to drop something. “Chad proposed? Floyd the ’Roid? I thought he was in Cozumel.”

  “Costa Rica, Caracas, Cozumel. Somewhere tropical. Hard to say. There were palm trees.”

  “But—wait.”

  “But yeah. He definitely asked me to marry him, ring and all. And—”

  “And?” Mitzi jumped up and sat on the counter beside the stove, not even caring that grease from the grill might spatter onto her skirt. “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing. I haven’t seen him in person.”

  “Okay. This is—”

  “I know, right?” She explained to Mitzi about the cyber-proposal. Piper knew it was weird. She also knew that she still hadn’t told Chad, or most of the world, that she’d married Zach Travis. How Chad would take it Piper had no idea.

  “But…wait. If you’re already married to Zach, will Chad even be a factor? How is that going to work?”

  Piper bit her lower lip and took the meat off the grill to check. She cut into it. A perfect medium rare, with just the right char on the outside to go with the peppers and the home made corn tortillas from masa harina corn flour, which she’d rolled, pressed in the tortilla press, and cooked on the griddle to supple perfection.

  Piper didn’t answer Mitzi’s question of how it would work to be married to Zach and be proposed to by Chad, mostly because she didn’t know the answer. If this was only a business deal with Zach, she didn’t want to hurt Chad. He’d been patient, respectful, and all in all, a pretty loyal boyfriend, even when the two of them weren’t necessarily getting that mental and emotional spark going between them like she’d felt with Zach. Chad deserved better from her. The last time they’d talked, which would be the last he knew, she’d mentioned moving things forward with him, taking things to a greater commitment level. Piper couldn’t expect him to know how many twists and turns her feelings had endured since he walked off into the wilderness of Central America. Or wherever.

  Dumping him without explanation hardly seemed fair.

  But I’m married to someone else. Wouldn’t that be the highest form of dumping without explanation?

  Would he even want her still after her decisions of the last couple of weeks?

  More important, would she want Chad, now that she’d tasted Zach?

  “Let’s talk about you instead. How are things moving with Ignatius?”

  Mitzi blushed. Mitzi never blushed.

  “Serious, huh?”

  “Getting there. He said he has a couple of things to take care of this week, big projects at work, and then he wants to talk to me about something.”

  “Something? What kind of something?” Piper elbowed her. It was about time things turned around between them and Piper did the ribbing for once. “Like…marriage? I mean, you know I of all people would never criticize a quick wedding. When it’s right it’s right.”

  “Nah, not that. I mean, we’re definitely on that path, but we’re not moving that fast.” Mitzi chuckled. “It’s something else. I get the sense he’s going to finally tell me about his work.”

  “Ooh. Let you in on his innermost secrets.” Piper rubbed her hands together. “I guess that’s a pretty important prerequisite to moving things along quicker: knowing what your boyfriend’s job is.”

  “No kidding.” Mitzi snitched a crumble of beef and popped it in her mouth. “He’s going to be here today—moral support, I guess. I invited him. It was funny how much he smiled when I did that. Sweet of him. Anyway, we need to fill up the restaurant today. Should I do a quick social media post? We don’t want it to be dead when the critics come in.”

  “If it is, then they’ll get very personal service from Garrett.” Piper played it off as fine, even though this worry had gnawed at her all morning. “It’s going to be fine. Quit freaking out.”

  In a weird role-reversal, all morning Mitzi had been the one freaking out, and Piper had been the picture of calm. Piper couldn’t deny some of it had to do with what Mitzi had guessed: that she was in love. With Zach.

  Still, as the clock ticked toward eleven, her fingers started to shake. Showtime loomed, and Mitzi had made a valid point. If they didn’t fill the restaurant, whether the food tasted like it’d been made by the most renowned chef at the top restaurant in New York or Paris, a sea of empty tables could only have a negative psychological effect on the magazine writers.

  Du Jour’s Texas Star either rose or fell today, based on this bite of rib eye and chipotle pepper taco, with queso fresco Piper had whipped up this morning, and a side of ranch-cut fried potatoes.

  The clock struck eleven.

  “Tacos.” Piper stared at the plate, its reds and browns and greens and whites so pretty and fragrant and spicy. “Basically, today my life depends on tacos.”

  “Mine, too.” Mitzi gave a dry laugh. “But your tacos are magic, so things could be much worse.”

  A bell at the front door jingled. Garrett had turned around the OPEN sign and unlocked the door.

  “Here we go.” Mitzi gave Piper a high five, but just as their palms slapped, Garrett dodged through the swinging door to the dining room.

  “Uh, ladies. Piper had better get cooking. All the chairs are filled and there’s a line down the block.”

  Three hou
rs later, sweat dripped into Piper’s eye, and she swabbed it for the tenth time with the rag around her neck. Heat from the grill sizzled more than the last of the rib eye steak from Mitzi’s second emergency mission to the butcher shop. Where had all the patrons come from?

  “They’re still raving.” Garrett brought in another pile of dishes. The stack beside the sink looked like it could turn into sedimentary rock at the lower levels if any more pressure got applied to the top of it. How they hadn’t run out of plates, Piper had no idea. It was a Texas Foodie Magazine Day Miracle. “I’m just glad it’s closing time. I never worked harder for my thousand bucks in tips.”

  Thousand bucks! Piper plated the last tacos. Then she looked around the kitchen and exhaled. She’d done it. Now, please say the tacos had worked their magic on the critics the way they’d transformed the patrons into big tippers.

  Where had the customers all sprung from? They’d come like frogs from a monsoon puddle after a drought—basically out of nowhere.

  “Knock, knock?” Through the back door pushed a familiar face, Zach’s. He sported a mischievous look in his eye, and Piper instantly knew how to answer her own question.

  “Hey, husband.” She swabbed her brow one last time and went to kiss him. “I’m guessing a lot of people from Crockett, Bowie, and Houston stopped by Du Jour for lunch today. Garrett reported an awful lot of lawyer-types showing up in the dining room.”

  Zach slid his arms around her, ignoring the grease and cooking grime she must be covered with.

  “Was it overkill?”

  So he had orchestrated it.

  “How did you know I’d need a full bistro today?”

  He hooked a finger and lifted her chin. He placed a kiss on her mouth, and she let it answer her question.

  “Cora from the front desk reported that everyone loved your tacos so much that they’re begging you to make them again for Wednesday night.”

  “What’s Wednesday night?” Piper could barely think when he kissed her that way. Time stopped.