Honoring him wouldn’t be that big of a deal. They both treated one another with the utmost respect, and she cherished him and his friendship above anyone else’s.
They exchanged rings. She’d picked his up the day before at the department store. He seemed surprised when she dropped the circle in the JP’s hand with the one he’d gotten her.
After slipping them into place and being announced as husband and wife, the official in the black robe smiled and said, “You may kiss your bride.”
This was it. They were going to have to kiss. She felt his body go tense next to hers, and the pressure as he squeezed her fingers. She felt the gust of breath when he sighed, and using their locked hands, he tugged her closer as he stepped into her.
In one fluid quick motion, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers. She’d braced herself to play it right. Wincing and squeezing her eyes shut in disgust wouldn’t make their undying love seem believable. She managed to stay still for the three seconds before he pulled away and cleared his throat.
They’d done it.
Benji patted Wes on the back and a teary-eyed Cindy hurried up to hug them both.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Archer. May you have a long and happy life together,” the official said with a solemn nod.
“Let’s move into the other room, where we’ll have some cake,” Cindy ordered.
“Come on, wife. There’s cake.”
And like that, they were married.
* * * *
Cindy left after the cake was served, and Benji headed out after giving them his best and mentioning how they could make a place for Jamie in the family company. Wes still wasn’t ready to think about that yet. He still had time to figure it out. He walked Jamie out to her car and took a deep breath.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he mentioned.
“No. It was really nice. Thank you again for doing this.”
“I’m sure I’m getting a good deal. Who wouldn’t want to be shackled to a woman who complains miserably every time the temperature falls below seventy degrees?”
“More like sixty-five,” she corrected with a chuckle. “I too got a great deal. I have a husband who can play Halo for nine consecutive hours.”
“You should be impressed.”
“So impressed.”
“When’s your flight?”
“Three. I have time to stop at my apartment and change before leaving for the airport.”
“Did you want me to drop you off?”
“No. I want my car there. My flight back is kind of late and I don’t want you to have to come pick me up.” She smiled. “See how well I’m cherishing you?”
“I feel super cherished right now.” He looked down at the simple gold band around his finger. “Have a great time in Virginia.”
“Have a great time virtually killing people.”
He brushed a snowflake from her cheek and smiled. “Maybe we can do dinner when you get back.”
“It’s a date.”
She got in her car and he waved as she drove off, feeling the normal loneliness engulf him.
Rather than spend the week playing games, he came up with another plan. While he was forbidden to take his laptop home with him, he could still send a file to his home computer so he could get a head start on their newest project.
Making his way back up to his office undetected was impossible. Everyone congratulated him and patted him on the back as he held up his ring finger, sporting his new accessory.
“Did she already get away?” Mike Douglas joked as he hurried past.
“No. I just left something in my office.”
He sat down at his desk and opened his email. Finding the file he needed on his hard drive, he sent it to himself and closed down his computer just as Cindy rushed in.
“Oh, I’m so glad I caught you. I tried calling, but you didn’t answer.” She was flushed and her portly frame heaved from the effort of hurrying. He waited while she caught her breath enough to go on.
“Jamie is used to taking care of her own flights.” She smiled and held out a piece of paper that looked like the reports they approved for their corporate credit card. “She only purchased one ticket for your honeymoon. But don’t worry. I was still able to get you on the same flight.”
“Oh. Thank you.” He took the paper and looked down at the charge. Cindy would have access to the corporate travel itinerary too. Blast her efficiency.
“I’m so glad you two decided to get out of town after all. Every new couple should have a real honeymoon. You only get married once, right?” Over 50 percent of the population got married more than once, but he didn’t point that out. Jamie was always telling him how people weren’t amused when he started spouting statistics.
Besides, that wasn’t the issue at the moment.
The problem was that Rob Blain and the rest of the company were going to be expecting to see pictures from their honeymoon. Cindy now thought they would be together in Virginia, which meant a pile of pictures from Boston wouldn’t fool them.
He took a deep breath and looked out the window at the snow falling steadily, and decided he was going to Virginia for his honeymoon.
* * * *
Jamie stood when they called her seating group and went to stand in line. She was nervous about seeing her father. Should she tell him about the wedding? At some point he was bound to find out. But what if he asked her questions about why she got married? She wouldn’t be able to thwart a professional interrogation.
Best to just let it go for now. She’d tell him another time.
She held out her phone so the attendant could scan her boarding pass and had only taken one step past the podium when she heard her name. She turned to see Weston hold out his paper boarding pass, a carry-on bag strapped over his shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as they moved to the side.
“Cindy.” That one word explained his presence.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, smarty-pants. You said you’d thought of everything.”
“I should have used my own card.” Damn it.
“Yep.”
“It was the points. I fall for it every time.” He gave her a pained look and she nodded. “Right. I still should have used my personal card.”
He put his hand at the small of her back to guide her down the jetway to the plane.
“You’re going to Virginia?” It was obvious since they were in line at the entrance to the plane.
“They think we’re going to Virginia for our honeymoon. If we’re going to convince them this is legit, we’re going to have to take some pictures.”
“But my dad—”
“Your dad is bound to find out at some point. Since your plan isn’t as infallible as you thought, it’s best to get it over with now.”
She nodded numbly and took her seat. The worst part about watching her plan fall apart was that she had no one to blame but herself. She was responsible for all of this.
Karma was working overtime on this project.
“At least your dad likes me, I think.”
“You just married his little girl.”
“If he kills me and uses his police contacts to hide my body, I will never forgive you, Jamie Renee Archer.”
She was doomed.
Chapter 7
Jamie’s foot bounced the whole flight, despite Wes putting his hand on her knee three times. She hadn’t taken the hint, and her nervousness had spawned his own. He needed to come up with something else to think about before he jumped out of the plane.
“What are we going to tell him?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
“We could tell him the truth.”
The look she gave him told him that was a stupid idea. As if she should talk. She was queen of stupid ideas. “Are
you nuts? If I tell my father I got married so I could go on a trip to schmooze a client, he will have me committed.”
“Okay, then. We’ll go with the story.”
“He’s a seasoned police detective and a retired FBI agent. He’s interrogated terrorists and spies. He’ll see right through this.”
Weston shrugged, not having another plan to offer. “Look at it this way. It will be good practice. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll be dead and you’ll be in the mental hospital. We won’t have to worry about making it to Team One.”
She didn’t look comforted by his conclusion so he shut up and looked out the window for the duration of the flight.
When they arrived, her father was waiting in the passenger-pickup area. His smile turned to confusion as Wes trailed along behind her.
“Jamie?” he whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Is your dad carrying a gun right now?”
“Probably two or three.”
“I’m so dead.”
“Hi, princess.” Her father hugged her and then pulled back to examine Weston, who was dragging their luggage. He shuffled the bags uncomfortably.
“Hi, Daddy. You know Weston.”
“Yes.”
She turned to Weston and swallowed as he propped his bag on hers and held out his hand. The man shook it, his grasp firm and unsettling.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Witmer.”
“It’s nice to see you too. Jamie didn’t tell me she was bringing a friend.”
Weston looked at her expectantly. He was waiting for her to explain—it was her turn, after all—but when she continued to say nothing, he cleared his throat. Surely someone would stop the man if he pulled a gun in front of an airport. Wes would be ready to jump to safety. Would he need to grab Jamie or was she safe?
“I’m not exactly her friend anymore, sir. You see”—he held up his left hand—“we’re married.”
For a second he thought Mr. Witmer might fall over. His face went pale and then the blood returned in full force.
“Married?” He looked right at Jamie, and Weston cowardly rejoiced that she would bear the brunt of the betrayal. After all, this was all her fault. “Are you pregnant? Did you knock up my daughter?” Weston was back in the laser sights of the man who knew how to kill people with his pinky.
“No sir! I swear.”
“Dad, don’t freak out.”
“Don’t freak out?” he shouted. “Don’t freak out?” He paced in a small circle and came back to stand in front of her. “My only child gets married without telling me or so much as inviting me to the wedding, and I’m not supposed to freak out?”
“Okay. Go ahead and freak out. But can you do it while driving us home?”
Wes wanted to argue that putting an irritated man behind the wheel was a bad idea. Then Jamie reached for the back door instead of sitting up front with her enraged father.
“You can sit up front. You’re legs are longer.” He glared at her and slid into the front seat.
The other man remained stonily silent the whole way back to his home. Twice Wes tried to make conversation, but he wouldn’t bite. It was only after they pulled into the driveway of a tiny home and he’d killed the engine that he turned to look over his shoulder at his daughter.
“You’d better tell me what’s going on here.”
“We’re going to unpack, and when you’ve settled down we’ll sit and talk.” She snatched up her bag and jumped out of the car to storm into the house, leaving Weston to face a seething Mr. Witmer on his own.
“I can’t help but notice you didn’t even ask me for her hand.” Mr. Witmer stared at him.
A strangled laugh escaped, causing Mr. Witmer to narrow his gaze on Weston once again.
“I’m sorry sir, it’s just that . . . Well, Jamie has full possession of both of her hands. Asking you wouldn’t have mattered to her one way or the other. Certainly you know how strong-willed your daughter is.”
“Christ,” he muttered and ran his hand over his buzzed hair.
“Weston!” Jamie shouted from the hall.
“Excuse me,” Wes picked up his bag and moved around the angry man. “My wife needs me.” He’d never been so happy to respond to the call of an irritated female. But he hurried happily away from the angry father.
* * * *
Jamie felt heat rise in her face when Weston stepped into her small room and looked around. Her father had left it a shrine to her youth. The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Audioslave posters still lined the walls and the Eiffel tower she’d made out of popsicle sticks in sixth grade sat on the dresser.
Her full-sized bed was covered in the black comforter she’d insisted on when her father had suggested pink roses.
All her life he’d tried to compensate for her not having a mother by showering her with overly girly things. But he wasn’t able to make her into the princess he always called her.
“I’m sorry about this. We should have gone somewhere else.”
“It’s okay. We’ll get through it.” He stepped closer and patted her back like the good friend he’d always been. “I get the bed.”
“Fair enough.” She owed him so much more than a comfortable place to sleep. He was being accused of defiling her virtue. He deserved a gold medal for going along with this plan.
“I just want you to know that forevermore, when you say the words I have an idea, I am going to bring this up.”
“Forevermore?” She appreciated how Wes could defuse even the most tense situations with his dry humor.
“Don’t worry. It’s not a very long time really. I’m sure I’ll be facing pistols at dawn.”
“He’s not that mad.”
“You’ve seen him even angrier than he is now?” It did seem impossible.
“Sure.”
“What did you do?”
“I got caught making out in the back of a van. The boy had his hand up my shirt when my dad stopped to offer assistance to the driver. The driver needed a different kind of assistance after that. Mostly to eat around the wires in his jaw.”
“I’m sure you’re telling me this because you think it will make me feel better, but not so much.”
“The thing to remember is that he will calm down. He’ll probably be laughing about it tomorrow.”
“If only I survive the night.”
“First, you have to survive dinner.”
Wes followed behind her as they went out to the living room and took a seat on the sofa. As if choreographed, they reached for each other’s hands at the same time. They were getting good at this. His fingers linked through hers, gave her strength to sit up straighter and look her father in the eye.
Her father was holding court in his ratty old chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he looked down his nose at them. She’d seen this tactic many times. He was waiting for her to start. He would remain silent until she was so uncomfortable she would ramble on and tell more than she’d planned to.
She wouldn’t fall for that trick. Not this time.
“Wes and I are married. I’m sorry you weren’t invited to the wedding, but we just wanted it to be small.” There, that was all he needed to know.
“Did his parents get invited?”
“No, sir.”
“Do they know?”
“No,” Wes answered, and her father shook his head. His skin tone was moving into the purple hues again.
“Should we go?” she asked. It was the only weapon in her arsenal. They were the only family they had. She was important to him. Perched on the edge of the sofa, she leaned closer, waiting for his answer.
Her father narrowed his eyes on her, no doubt knowing what she was doing. She blinked and looked sad, but made sure not to overplay it.
“Let’s go get some dinner. I’m starved,” he said
abruptly and lurched out of his chair for the door.
“The last meal,” Wes mumbled from behind her.
Her father didn’t even ask where they wanted to go for dinner. He started flinging questions at Weston as he parked and listened intently to the answers.
No doubt he would be verifying every one of them with someone from the FBI. No matter what he dug up on Weston, there was no way he’d ever find out their marriage was a sham. If she thought they would be spared once seated at the restaurant, she was wrong.
“What about kids?” her father asked, jarring her out of her peaceful moment.
“Daddy.”
“What? You’ve discussed it, I hope.” He looked between the two of them as Jamie stared at her hands. She could only guess Weston was doing the same thing. “How could you get married before you decided if you both wanted kids or not?” he snapped.
“It’s not important right now. We’re both focused on our jobs.”
“Jamie, you’re almost thirty.”
“I know how old I am.”
He put his hands up in front of him when she raised her voice.
“I’m not pressuring you on it. It would just make me feel better to know you’ve discussed it. That you’re taking this seriously.”
Seriously. She frowned. This wasn’t even real.
“When we’ve discussed it, you’ll be the first to know,” she answered. Weston blinked at her. She patted his leg under the table, hoping he would relax.
Nothing else was said about children until they were alone in her room getting ready for bed. Despite his initial threat to take the bed for himself, they decided they were more than capable of sharing it.
They were adults who had signed on to spend a lot of time with one another over the next few years. At some point they would end up in this position and it was better to just deal with it.
“It’s just sleeping,” she said with a shrug.
“With a friend,” Weston added, eyeing the small bed. It always seemed so big to her, but with Weston standing next to it, she wondered if there would be any room for her. He was a big guy.
The Work Wife Page 8