A Wife for One Year

by Brenda Harlen

  As she filled the oversize tub with bubbles, she acknowledged that she was hardly in a position to pass judgment on her sister’s relationship. When she was Becca’s age, she’d been completely and exclusively focused on her studies. That’s not to say she never felt stirrings of attraction, but whenever she did, she forced herself to ignore them. She was terrified that if she gave in to those feelings she’d end up like her mother and her older sister, both of whom had got pregnant before they’d graduated high school.

  Sure she’d harbored the occasional crush—even, briefly, on the man who was now her husband—but she’d never experienced the extreme highs and lows of teenage love and had no idea how to relate to her sister’s angst. But not understanding didn’t stop her from worrying. Todd was older and more experienced, and Becca was so infatuated that Kenna worried her sister would do anything to hold on to him.

  As she lowered herself into the steamy water, she couldn’t help but wonder if she wasn’t guilty of the same thing—if her decision to marry Daniel wasn’t just her way of holding on to him, at least for the next year. At the end of that time, they would end their marriage and go back to being just friends.

  The concern for Kenna was what might happen between now and then—how living under the same roof and pretending to be a couple would change their relationship. Because it was inevitable that it would. They’d shared only one chaste kiss at the end of the ceremony, and already she was feeling things she didn’t want to feel.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d experienced a tug of attraction in proximity to her best friend, but she was confident in her ability to ignore the unwelcome stirring of her body. It was the unexpected yearning of her heart that caused her more worry. When she was with Daniel, she felt the lure of something deeper, the longing for something more. But she’d never let herself even acknowledge those feelings because she knew they couldn’t lead anywhere. Not even if he was now her husband.

  As she stepped out of the bath and reached for a towel, she considered the possibility that she’d only imagined that tingle. That she might be romanticizing her relationship with Daniel because he was now her husband. Maybe the truth was that she hadn’t felt anything at all but had manufactured a response because she wanted to feel something. Because she didn’t want a fake marriage—she wanted a real wedding, a real husband and a real wedding night.

  Tears stung her eyes as she rubbed the thick, fluffy towel over her body and wondered if she would ever enjoy the touch of a man’s hands on her. But even more than the physical aspects of an intimate relationship, she longed to fall in love and be loved in return.

  Since she was a little girl, she’d dreamed about the kind of family she’d never had. A man and a woman, married to one another, living together, sharing the joys and responsibilities of their children. She’d had other dreams, of course. To go to college, which she’d done, and to become a teacher, which she’d also done.

  But after half a dozen failed relationships, she’d finally accepted that the falling-in-love-and-having-a-family thing wasn’t going to happen for her. So when Daniel suggested this marriage of convenience, she’d jumped at the opportunity, grateful at least for the illusion that she was in a normal relationship and could have a normal life.

  But the fact that she was alone in a hotel room on her wedding night proved that it was nothing more than an illusion.

  Chapter Three

  Daniel’s inaugural visit to Sin City had been with both of his brothers in celebration of his twenty-first birthday. Since then, he’d visited Las Vegas on several other occasions, usually with a group of buddies. He’d never brought a woman with him to Vegas, and he’d never imagined returning home with one as his wife.

  But it was official now—he was married. And the band on his finger had been placed there by the woman who had been his best friend for the past ten years.

  He shook his head. Even though it had been his idea, it was still hard to believe that Kenna was his wife.

  He sat down at the blackjack table with a stack of chips, because he had nothing better to do. And how pathetic was that? It was his wedding night, his bride was in their room alone and he was playing cards.

  Pathetic perhaps, but necessary. Because if he’d stayed upstairs with Kenna, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands off her. And he had no intention of crossing lines that had been firmly established more than ten years earlier just because one kiss had somehow stirred up wants and needs that he’d learned to ignore long ago.

  As he pushed a chip toward the center of the table, the overhead lights glinted off the gold band on his third finger, making him pause.

  “You’ll sleep on the couch for a couple of weeks if you’re gambling with the down payment for your house,” the man sitting immediately to Daniel’s left warned.

  “What?”

  “I saw you hesitate after you glanced at the ring,” he explained.

  Daniel knew a serious card player was always looking for clues about the other players at his table. Since he’d never taken the games too seriously, he didn’t pay much attention.

  “Name’s Cal,” the gray-haired man said, offering a hand. “But my friends call me Archie.”

  As he shook the man’s proffered hand, he found himself thinking that the stranger looked somewhat familiar.

  “Daniel Garrett,” he said. “And we haven’t even started to look for a house.”

  “Newlyweds,” Archie surmised.

  He nodded, unwilling to admit exactly how new. “Are you married?”

  The old man shook his head. “No wife, just two exes.”

  Daniel signaled the dealer to “hit.” He added a four of hearts to the jack of clubs and seven of diamonds, giving him twenty-one.

  “Not a lot of players hit on seventeen,” Archie noted. “I’m not sure whether that demonstrates confidence or recklessness.”

  “I’m not much of a gambler, but I figure playing it safe isn’t really gambling, is it?”

  “That’s one perspective,” the other man agreed. “And I guess if you don’t care too much about winning, you can afford to lose.”

  Daniel only nodded and placed his next bet.

  Archie played steadily, giving nothing of his thoughts or feelings away. He gestured his request for a hit or stay wordlessly, and alternately relinquished his bets or pulled in his winnings with equanimity.

  Daniel slid another chip into betting position on the baize and wondered what Kenna would say if she knew the table he was sitting at had a hundred-dollar minimum. It was the same amount he’d won from his friends back in high school, after he’d bribed her with half to go out with him.

  The dealer busted at twenty-two, paid out to the winners, then wished them all luck as she moved on to another table.

  A new dealer came in and took up position, and Daniel considered calling it a night. He’d won more than he’d lost but, more important, he’d spent enough time at the table that his wife should be tucked into bed and sleeping by now.

  A cocktail waitress sidled up to the table and set a glass of amber-colored liquid beside Archie. He nodded in acknowledgment and handed her a green chip.

  “Thank you, Mr. Archer.”

  And Daniel suddenly realized why the man had looked familiar. “Calvin Archer—as in Archer Glass?”

  “That’s me,” he confirmed.

  Daniel decided to ante up. “You used to sponsor the number four-fourteen car.”

  “You’re a racing fan,” Archie noted, lifting his glass to his lips.

  “I’m from North Carolina,” Daniel said, as if that explained everything.

  “Then you know about the scandal that forced Archer Glass to cut its ties with JB Racing.”

  Daniel nodded.

  “I did what I had to do for the integrity of my company but, dam
n, I miss it.” He shook his head.

  “It gets into your blood, doesn’t it?” Daniel said. “The sights, the sounds, even the smells. There’s nothing like the excitement of race day at the track.”

  “You’re right about that.” Archie finished his scotch.

  “So why hasn’t anyone managed to draw you back into that excitement?” Daniel asked. “Because I know teams have tried.”

  “And how do you know that?” Archie countered.

  “I’ve been doing some research, looking for a sponsor for Garrett/Slater Racing.”

  “Who?”

  Daniel smiled. “Let me buy you a drink and answer that question.”

  * * *

  Kenna didn’t fall asleep easily.

  Although the bed was undeniably comfortable, it wasn’t her bed. And although she was alone, she knew that Daniel would be coming back to the room at some point. When he did, she thought she’d finally be able to sleep. But in the quiet darkness of the night, she was acutely aware of his every movement.

  She heard the zip of his duffel bag being opened, then his muffled footsteps on the carpet, the click of the bathroom door and the pulsing of water in the shower. And that was when her naughty side took over, picturing him naked and wet, rubbing soap over his body, the lather sliding over his taut skin as the warm spray washed it away.

  She’d seen him shirtless a number of times and had a pretty good idea of the basics. But since she’d never actually seen him naked, she gave her imagination free rein to fill in as required. And as her mind fleshed out those intriguing details, she finally drifted off....

  The ring of his cell phone woke her up the next morning. Daniel snatched it up quickly, probably so that it wouldn’t wake her, then he slipped out into the hall to have his conversation.

  Kenna took advantage of his momentary absence to gather a change of clothes and take them into the bathroom. She dragged a brush through her hair, cleaned her teeth and quickly applied her basic makeup: eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss. Then she pulled on a pair of dark jeans and topped them with a pale pink T-shirt with lace overlay.

  She was packing her toiletries into her bag when he came back into the room, pushing a room service cart.

  “New job?”

  He grinned. “I thought, if you were still asleep, you wouldn’t appreciate a waiter strolling into the room.”

  “Good call.”

  He lifted the lids on the plates. “We’ve got eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, pancakes, fruit, yogurt, muffins, fresh juice and coffee.”

  “Oh.” She feigned disappointment. “No French toast?”

  His gaze narrowed. “Put the eggs on the toast,” he suggested.

  She smiled as she picked up a slice of bacon, bit into it. “So how much did you win?”

  He poured two cups of coffee, pushed one across the table to her. “Sorry?”

  “You were whistling when you came in last night, so I figured you must have won big.”

  He winced as he scooped eggs onto his plate. “Did I wake you?”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Actually, I probably lost about three hundred. But—” his smile came back in full force “—I might have a line on a sponsor.”

  “Josh must be thrilled,” she said, because she knew he would have shared the news with his soon-to-be partner right away.

  “Cautiously optimistic.” He added three sausage links and two pancakes to his plate. “We’ve had trouble finding a driver because we didn’t have a sponsor, but no one wants to sponsor a team that doesn’t have a committed driver.”

  She spooned berries on top of her yogurt, then threw caution to the wind and snagged another slice of bacon. “So who is this sponsor?”

  “Potential sponsor,” he clarified.

  She rolled her eyes as she sat down across from him. “Who is this potential sponsor?”

  “Archer Glass.”

  “Randy Britton’s old sponsor?”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Because I actually paid attention when you made me watch racing with you?”

  He grinned. “Yeah.”

  “So when will you know if this potential sponsor is going to become an actual sponsor?”

  “Hopefully soon.” He got up to refill his coffee. “By the way, I had a message from Dr. Rakem this morning. He wants to do Becca’s surgery on Thursday.”

  The abrupt shift in topic didn’t surprise her half as much as the statement. “This Thursday?”

  He nodded. “He had a cancellation so he offered to fit Becca in.”

  “But she hasn’t even had her pre-op appointment—”

  “Four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Even as her eyes filled with tears, she pushed away from the table and threw her arms around him. “Thank you.”

  “This is why we got married,” he echoed her words.

  She impulsively moved to kiss his cheek, except that he shifted his head at the same moment and her lips landed closer to the corner of his mouth than his cheek. Not on his mouth, but close enough that she felt that tingle again, from her lips all the way to the deepest part of herself.

  She pulled back quickly, but his eyes held hers for a long moment, and she knew without a doubt that this time he’d felt the tingle, too.

  But she didn’t know what, if anything, either of them should do about it.

  * * *

  As Daniel and Kenna waited for their flight to board, he sensed her growing nervousness. He knew she was worried about sharing the news of their impromptu wedding with their families—probably his even more than her own.

  Because of their long and enduring friendship, his brothers already thought of her as a sister and his parents treated her like a daughter, but the news of their elopement would undoubtedly raise eyebrows. She was worried that no one would believe that a decade of friendship had turned into something else, and he couldn’t ignore her concerns. But he trusted that they could make this work, because they had that foundation of friendship, laid more than ten years before...

  She wanted him to split the money and buy pizza out of his half?

  He didn’t know if he was insulted or impressed by her suggestion. But he wanted to spend time with her away from school even more than he wanted to win the bet, so he accepted her terms.

  She suggested Mossimo’s—a pizza place in her neighborhood—and he agreed because he knew she felt out of place with his usual crowd. He had no doubt that his friends would accept her, if only she would give them a chance, but he sensed it was going to take some time and patience to knock the chip off her shoulder.

  They shared a medium pizza with pepperoni and hot peppers on his half, mushrooms and green peppers on hers, and a couple of sodas. When the pizza was delivered to their table, she slid a slice onto her plate, then picked off every single mushroom before she bit into it. He’d started on his fourth slice while she was carefully removing toppings from her second.

  “Why did you order mushrooms if you don’t like mushrooms?” he finally asked.

  “Because I’m going to take the other two slices home for my sister, and she does like mushrooms.”

  “How old’s your sister?”

  “Four.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “I’ll be sixteen in December.”

  “That’s quite an age gap,” he noted.

  She nodded. “My mother says Becca is a lesson in what happens when you stop being careful.”

  He had no idea what to say to that, so he backtracked. “I guess if you’re not even sixteen yet, you don’t have your license.”

  She shook her head.

  “I’ll be seventeen in January,” he told her, though she hadn’t a
sked.

  “Did you get the car for your sixteenth birthday?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “I wanted an SVT Cobra Coupe, but my dad said I would only get one of those when I could afford to buy it myself.”

  She lifted her brows, and he knew without her having to say it that she expected—as a lot of people did—because his family was wealthy, he’d get whatever he wanted.

  “My father has some pretty strong ideas about making sure his kids know—” he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers “—the value of a dollar.”

  “I bet even the car you’re driving now cost more than a few dollars.”

  He nodded his agreement. “And it gets me where I want to go, so I can’t really complain.”

  “I have to take three different buses to get to and from school,” she admitted.

  “That sucks.”

  “By the time I make all the necessary transfers, the trip adds almost an hour to the start and end of each day.” She shrugged. “On the other hand, it beats the alternative.”

  “Walking?” he guessed.

  To his surprise, she smiled as she shook her head. She really had a pretty smile. “Still being at South Ridge and feeling like I’m going nowhere.”

  When the waitress came to check on them, he asked for a box for her leftover pizza. She brought the box along with the bill, and he put some money on the table for payment, then counted out fifty dollars more and tucked them under the edge of the take-out box for Kenna.

  Her eyes were riveted on the money, but she made no move to touch it.

  “It’s yours,” he reminded her. “We had a deal.”

  She finally reached for the bills and tucked them into the front pocket of her backpack.

  “I’m not usually so mercenary,” she said, “but my sister needs new shoes.”

  He’d never known anyone like her. She was honest and genuine and completely unapologetic. Yeah, she had a bit of a chip on her shoulder, but from the little glimpses that she’d given him of her life over the past few weeks, he thought she’d probably earned it.

  “So...do you think we could do this again sometime?” he asked.