Wooing His Accidental Wife (Unexpected Lovers Book 5)

by JB Heller

  “Adley,” I growl. “Look at me.”

  Gritting her teeth, she tears her jaw from my hold. “I need to go. Maid of honor duties and all that.”

  She attempts to side-step me, but I move with her, blocking her path. “We’re not done here. You’re either coming home with me tonight, or I’m going with you. The choice is yours.” I shift out of her way and allow her to pass.

  She doesn’t waste any time making her escape, fleeing the second the coast is clear. As the door clicks shut behind her, my shoulders sag, and I plant my palms on the cool marble top of the vanity, then close my eyes.

  Getting her to see our unplanned nuptials as a good thing is going to take everything I have. But if anyone is worth the time and effort, it’s her.

  I can’t get away from Dax fast enough, hurrying down the hall in case he changes his mind and comes after me. It’s only when I make it back outside and join the party that I’m able to relax a little. I knew he would come for me today. I just hoped I had more time.

  I flag down a waiter and snag two glasses of champagne from his silver platter, then tell him to keep them coming. I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get to make it through tonight.

  Dax’s words repeat in my head as I sip on my first glass. You’re either coming home with me tonight, or I’m going with you. The choice is yours…

  I suppress a shiver. What am I even supposed to do with that? He knows marriage has never been on the cards for us. Hell, we aren’t even in a relationship. We’re fuck buddies at best, and that’s pushing it. I don’t know why he’s being so difficult. We’re not the first people to wake up accidently married in Vegas. Although, admittedly, I never in a million years thought that I’d be one of them. But even so, as far as I’m concerned, it never happened. An annulment is the only appropriate course of action.

  Maybe if I agree to go home with him tonight, I’ll be able to talk some sense into the insufferable asshole. Arlo sidles up to me, throwing his arm around my shoulder and giving me that butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth grin.

  “What do you want, pipsqueak?” I snap, in absolutely no mood to be cracked onto by a teenager.

  “Just came over to say hi. You look stabby. Thought you might need someone to talk to.” He lifts one of his broad shoulders in a shrug.

  “I am stabby, so you should probably stay away from me. I’m prone to random acts of violence.”

  He chuckles and steals my back-up champaign, chugging the whole thing in one go. When he’s done, he smirks down at me, shaking his head. “Babe, you’re not the first—and probably won’t be the last—volatile woman I’ve talked down off a ledge. You’ve met my stepmom’s BFFs, right?”

  I roll my eyes at him. He has no freaking clue who he’s dealing with. “Kinsley and Emory are two of the sweetest women I’ve ever met.”

  “Yeah, but not when they’re pregnant. Trust me. Also, you forgot Lenny. That chick is brutal. She literally crushed a mouse to death with her boot. Her. Boot,” he repeats with a shudder as he eyes me. “I don’t think you’re quite as scary as her. Sorry.”

  Nodding, I tell him, “Okay, that’s nasty. But I will smash this champaign flute and cut you with the jagged edge if you don’t quit eyeballing my tits.” I smile up at him, sweetly, and he widens his eyes. I think I’ve sufficiently alarmed him, and that transforms my fake smile into a real one.

  “Damn, you are vicious. Does Dax know about this side of you?”

  “Dax?” I squawk. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

  Arlo chuckles and bestows upon me one of the most condescending eye rolls I’ve ever been on the receiving end of. “Babe, for real? Something’s up with you two, and I’m not the only one who sees it.”

  “Sees what?” Dax’s deep voice comes out of freaking nowhere, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

  I narrow my gaze, flicking it from Arlo—who’s not only standing way too close to my woman, but he’s touching her—then to Adley and the stunned look on her face.

  “What exactly is going on here?” I ask. Okay, more like demand. But whatever. The little shit is touching my wife.

  Arlo smirks, and I just about lose it. But then he looks down at Adley and laughs. “You wanna try telling me there’s nothing going on between you two again?”

  She grits her teeth and shoves him, and when he doesn’t move, she stomps her foot and glowers up at him. “Remember what I said about this champaign flute?” She holds it up to his face.

  His grin is still in place when he takes a step away from her, holding his hands out in front of himself. “Whoa there, killer. I was just pointing out the obvious. Not my fault you two have the worst fucking poker faces ever.”

  I move in then, reaching out and tugging Adley closer to me before I snap at Arlo. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’ve been making goo-goo eyes at her all day, and she’s been sending you death glares. It’s pretty damn clear you two are banging. If not more….”

  My jaw drops. “I have not.”

  “Oh, man, you’re so screwed.” He chuckles, slides his hands into his pockets, then turns and wanders away, leaving Adley and I alone.

  I stare after him for a moment in shocked silence. Goo-goo eyes? I’m a grown ass man; I don’t make goo-goo eyes. Adley’s definitely been giving me death glares though. But that’s just her usual M.O. Nothing new there. My woman is the queen of resting bitch face.

  “What were you two talking about before I interrupted?” I ask.

  She shrugs, her gaze fixed on the small group of couples swaying in pairs on the dancefloor. “My penchant for random acts of violence.”

  “I see,” I murmur, my focus on the huge smile on my baby sister’s face as she dances with her new husband. Adley and I should be out there, too, showing people that we’re together. I want that so much, but I must remind myself this is neither the time nor place. And Adley isn’t completely sold on the concept… yet.

  “So, have you decided?” I ask. “My place or yours tonight?”

  She clears her throat and lifts her gaze to meet mine. “Yours.”

  I search her face, looking for clues as to what she’s thinking, but she gives nothing away. She never does.

  I’m sitting in one of the outdoor lounges set up beside a huge heater, sipping on a brandy with Atticus, Archer, and Bates as the evening winds down. It’s cold as balls out here, but the heater and alcohol warm my blood. Most of the guests have left, leaving just the closest of friends and family behind.

  Bates’s gaze rarely leaves my sister where she’s sitting with our mother and her new little girl gang on another set of loungers. Archer and Atticus aren’t much better, their focus straying to their respective women every couple of minutes too.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t covertly checking on Adley every now and then as well. I half expect she’ll attempt to ditch my ass here and go home alone. But she looks happy and relaxed, sitting back with a champaign flute balanced between her fingers as she laughs at something one of the other women says.

  It’s good to see her like this, enjoying herself in a group. I’ve only ever really seen her this relaxed when she’s hanging out with Tia. I asked her about it once, and she said Tia was enough for her.

  “Yo, Dax,” Bates says, digging his elbow into my side.

  I jump and shoot him a glare. “What?”

  “You checked out, bro. Atticus asked you a question, but you were staring off into space.”

  Oh. “Shit, sorry, man,” I tell Atticus. “What’s up?”

  He gives me a knowing look then briefly glances at his heavily pregnant wife before focusing back on me. “Arlo’s going into law. I offered him a part-time position at my firm while he’s getting his major, but he’s not interested. He doesn’t want to be seen as riding on my coattails, which I get,” he says, then takes a sip of his drink.

  I nod. “Yeah, I get that. What’s he looking to specialize in?”

  Atticus smiles,
clearly proud of his son. “Family law. When Kinsley legally adopted him, he told me he knew that’s what he was meant to do—help kids feel whole.” He swallows hard, then shakes his head, his gaze drifting back to his wife.

  Well shit. The kid has always come off as a cocky son of a bitch to me, but damn. I clear my throat, then take a sip from my crystal tumbler. “Immigration is my jam, but I’ll put in a word for him. It’ll look good on his CV. Has he been accepted into a law program yet?”

  “Yeah, he’ll stay at Columbia. He could go anywhere, but he wants to stay close to home.” Atticus tilts his head toward me. “Thanks for giving him a foot in the door.”

  I wave him off. “No thanks needed. He’ll still need to prove himself.” I knock back the dregs of my drink, then place the glass on the table in front of me. “Well, boys, I’m going to head out. Handing my baby sister over to this güey here took ten years off my life today,” I say, giving Bates a little shove as I stand.

  “Fuck off, dickwad. She loves me and you know it,” Bates shoots back, flipping me off as he does.

  “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, bro.” I chuckle then say my goodbyes to Atticus and Archer before heading over to the ladies.

  Their conversation quiets as I approach. “Are you leaving, Mijo?” Amá asks.

  “I am.” I bend over, brushing a kiss to my mother’s temple. “I just came over to say goodnight and see if Adley wants to split a ride with me.” My gaze flicks to Adley for the briefest moment.

  “Uh, okay. I guess,” she says, then tips the last of her champaign down her throat. She wraps her arms around Tia, murmuring something to her, then gets to her feet. “Later, ladies. I’ll see you all next weekend.”

  I move in and crouch in front of Tia. Her smile is blinding and true. “I couldn’t be happier for you,” I tell her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Love you, chiquita.” I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tight.

  “Love you too,” she murmurs into my shoulder. “And thank you for getting Adley home safely.”

  Pulling away, I shoot her a wink. “Night.”

  “And be nice!” she calls after me.

  I smirk to myself. If only she knew just how nice I intend on being to her best friend.

  Adley and I walk through the big house that’s lit up like a Christmas tree, and out the front door. “Have you ordered a ride already?” she finally asks, breaking the silence as we stroll down the long drive to the front gate, our path lit by solar lights.

  “Yeah, it should be here in—” I pause to check the app on my cell “—three minutes.”

  She nods, wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her palms up and down.

  “Shit, you’re cold.” I take off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders, then tug her into my side, curving an arm around her waist. “Better?” I ask.

  “Thank you,” she says so softly. Her voice nearly gets lost in the sounds of the night.

  Crickets chirp in the garden beds that line the drive as we stand beneath the cloudy sky, waiting for our Uber to arrive. “Christ, it’s cold out here without those patio heaters,” I grumble, shifting from foot to foot while keeping Adley securely tucked into my side.

  She slides her arms inside the sleeves of my jacket. “They were a brilliant idea.”

  Headlights round the bend at the end of the road, slowing as they approach us before coming to a full stop at the curb. I open the back door for Adley, then slide in behind her. “Right on time, my man,” I tell the driver. “I was about to freeze my balls off.”

  The twenty-something behind the wheel chuckles and flicks on his indicator before pulling back onto the road. “Can’t have that.”

  “I don’t know,” Adley mutters under her breath. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

  My head snaps in her direction. “What was that?”

  “Hmm? What was what?” she asks, blinking at me with her big, fake, innocent, brown eyes.

  “You wouldn’t have minded what?” I push.

  “Oh, that. Just thinking out loud.” She shrugs, and the grin on her face is anything but innocent. “If your balls fell off, that’d solve a lot of my problems.”

  I arch a brow. “Oh really? How do you figure?”

  She shuffles around, resting her back against the door so she’s facing me. “No testicles means you’d no longer produce testosterone, thereby severely decreasing or—with any luck—completely wiping out your sex drive. That right there would get you off my case.”

  “Wha—” I blink at her dumbly. “You’ve given this way too much thought. There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know that, right?” She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off before she can make so much as a sound. “And what makes you think I’d suddenly lose interest in you if I had no sex drive? Relationships are about more than sex, Adley. We are about more than sex.”

  She swallows as confusions blankets her features, then she shifts her gaze from mine.

  Sighing, I look out my window and watch the suburbs blur together as we draw closer to home. The back of an Uber is not the place to talk this out. I can wait a few more minutes until we’re back at my place.

  Nerves simmer under my skin as the Uber pulls up by the sidewalk outside Dax’s apartment building. I briefly consider asking the driver to lock the doors the moment Dax steps out, then to take me home, but all that would buy me is a few minutes, if that.

  Dax would follow me. Of that I have no doubt.

  “Thanks, man,” Dax says to the driver, then opens his door and climbs out before turning to offer me his hand.

  I slide across the seat, then place my hand in his extended palm, the heat of his touch warming me instantly. I hate that his touch affects me so. He makes me weak, and I can’t afford to be weak. Not for him, not for anyone.

  Weakness leads to pain and heartache. I’ve seen it firsthand. Lived it. I promised myself I’d never let that happen to me, yet here I am taking his hand when I know what he does to me. What he does to my heart.

  Swallowing down my apprehension, I allow Dax to lead me inside his building, blindly following him all the way to his apartment. Once outside the door, he uses his left hand to fish his keys from his pocket, keeping his right tightly wrapped around mine, as if he’s afraid I’ll bolt.

  Sliding the key into the lock, he then turns it and ushers me inside. I’ve been here a hundred times before, not that anyone besides Dax knows that. If I had my way, that would never change. But I have a feeling Dax is about to throw my tightly structured world into utter chaos.

  I head toward the familiar worn, brown, leather couch in Dax’s living room while he goes to the kitchen. His place is a small ultra-masculine studio apartment. Settling into the old couch feels like coming home.

  And I hate that.

  Instead of making myself comfortable, I perch my butt on the very edge, keeping my back ramrod straight. He’s about to ambush me with something, and I need to present a confident front when he does.

  “You want a drink?” he asks, peering at me over the top of the fridge door.

  “Water’s fine.” I have enough alcohol swirling through my bloodstream already, thank you very much.

  He appears a moment later with two glasses of water, handing me one before he sits on the solid, timber, coffee table in front of me instead of beside me.

  Interesting…

  I take a sip, eyeing him as I do. “Okay, I’m here. Now what do you want?”

  “I want us to give this a real try.”

  I tilt my head, frowning at the absurdity of his statement. “I’m sorry, what?”

  He rolls his eyes then puts his drink on the table beside him. My eye involuntarily twitches, and I lurch forward, snatching the glass off the timber surface before it has a chance to mark it up.

  Dax sighs, holds up a finger, then stands. He ducks into the kitchen and rummages around in a drawer before returning with two coasters. Placing them on the coffee table, he then turns back to me and takes both our glasses, dep
ositing them on top.

  “Happy?” he asks as he sits in the same spot he just vacated.

  I nod. “Yes.”

  With a slight shake of his head, he smiles at me. And it’s one of those smiles that I feel all the way down to my damn toes.

  He leans forward, resting his elbows on his spread knees, then takes my hands in his. “You and me, we’re going to give this marriage an actual shot. We’ve been doing this, whatever this is, for two years, Ads. You know by now I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for it, for us. For you.”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded.

  “I’ve thought it all out, okay. We’ll move in together and live as man and wife for a year. Let me prove to you that us getting married was meant to happen. And if I’m being honest, I’d like to thank drunk me for getting your drunk ass to a chapel in the first place because, lord knows, sober you would never even consider walking down that aisle.”

  I swallow, my throat suddenly dry as a desert, and grab my glass of water, swallowing down the cool liquid. But it does nothing to alleviate the ache in my throat. I switch it out for Dax’s glass, finishing his off, too, with the same result. Except, it seems all that water diverted to my tear ducts, as now they’re burning with the need to unleash a torrent of unwanted sobs. I take a deep, shuddering breath and shake my head, blinking back the tears as best I can.

  Dax moves lightning fast. One moment he’s sitting in front of me, the next he’s beside me, tugging me into his lap. Of all the things I was expecting him to say, none of what came out of his mouth just now was on the list.

  “Why?” I eventually stammer. “Why would you want that?”

  He glides a soothing palm up and down my spine as he nuzzles into my neck. “Because I love you, you stubborn woman. How can you not know that by now?”

  I instantly stiffen in his arms. How can that possibly be true? I’ve given him the cold shoulder for longer than I can remember. Treated him like a lepper at every turn. We argue and bicker about, well, everything. How can he think he loves me?