“What’s this?” Lexxie asked, unzipping the duffel bag Megan had decided to bring. The child pulled out a sleeve of the damned motorcycle jacket before Megan could stop her. “It’s pretty!” she cooed, petting the iridescent leather and yanking the rest of the outfit out.
“It’s just a thing,” Megan said, trying to take it from Lexxie and stuff it back in the bag before anyone else could—
“Oh, Meg, that’s gorgeous!” Mom took the jacket and held it up.
“Wow,” Ron said. “What’s this for?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, finally managing to reclaim the thing and wadding it up in her arms, as though that would make it disappear like the rabbit. “It’s a thing I was making while Ben was here, and I was going to—never mind.” She should have left it at home.
She’d almost worked up the courage to ask Ron to model it, but he was limping, and then he’d said something about spending the afternoon with the kids at the pool, and the little ones were so excited to be going swimming, she’d had to change her mind.
She wouldn’t have won anyway, and going would just make her feel sadder about Ben. Who hadn’t called her back, even though she’d told him not to, so why was she feeling sorry for herself? Should have left the damned jacket in the car. “Please, guys, can we just rehearse?”
Mom sighed but took the rabbit onto the stage for her bit, while Dad stayed with Megan.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Dad asked. He wasn’t the touchy-feely type, but it was clear that even though Megan had told everyone else Ben had to leave because of work, her mother knew most of the story, which meant that so did Dad.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Everyone keeps asking where Ben is, and he’s not coming back, and I don’t know how to tell them.”
“Are you sure he’s not coming back?”
She sighed. “I told him not to.”
“You can always tell him you changed your mind.”
She shook her head. “It’s not like it’s up to me. He doesn’t want to. He’s really dedicated to his job, which is great, because so am I, but his job is really far away.”
“And if it’s meant to be, you guys can talk on the phone, write letters, and see each other when he’s in port.”
“I don’t know.” She’d thought about it, though, and been too damned scared to ask for his address, in case he would have been too polite to tell her thanks, but no thanks. “He doesn’t like— He’s not really into big family things anyway.” She wouldn’t tell Dad that Ben didn’t like them; he didn’t need to know that.
“He loves us!” Dad said.
She looked at her dad, wondering if he’d even met the same guy she’d brought around for three weeks.
“That week he was here while you were sick?”
“Yeah. It wore him out.”
“He had a blast!” Dad said.
“Oh yeah, he did!” her brother agreed, coming to stand next to Dad. “You should have heard him giving orders and trying to line everyone up to get things done. He’s no Megan Shuttlekrump, but he tried awfully hard.”
“Of course he did,” Megan said. “He’s a freaking hero. But he came home and passed out every night.”
“He still had fun,” Beth said.
Megan shook her head. “You guys are crazy. You’re like Oprah-analyzing him, and I think I’d know him better than you guys. I was married to him, after all.”
“Aren’t you still married to him?” someone asked.
“I don’t know, I—”
“Meg, honey, why don’t you take a break?” Dad suggested. “Your head’s not really in the game right now, and you’re in the way.”
He was right, damn it.
She stared at the stupid biker jacket, wadded up on the floor. One of the main reasons she’d avoided turning it in was she didn’t want that part of her life to interfere with her job. Heck, one of the reasons she’d thought she didn’t want Ben in her life was because she was afraid he’d conflict with her job, and here she was, screwing it all up, anyway!
“Go get something to eat,” Dad urged.
Yeah. She wasn’t helping anything here. “I can do that.”
“And Meg?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” Dad grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. “No matter what, we all love you.”
She tried not to cry when she said, “I love you, too.”
…
The crowd at the MGM Grand was surprisingly chill, for all that everyone was in leather, denim, and chains. Ben supposed people who could afford to buy custom motorcycles were more likely to be laid-back weekend bikers than full-time Hells Angels.
Given his preference for safety-consciousness, he’d never spent much time thinking about motorcycles. Helmet or no helmet, the things were dangerous.
“Hey! Ben, right?”
Ben turned to see Quinn, Megan’s cousin, the bike designer, and his fiancée, Kellie. They were standing in the line outside the grand ballroom, waiting to get into the upcoming motorcycle apparel and accessory design competition.
“Is Megan backstage?” Kellie asked.
“I hope so,” he said. “I didn’t come with her. I’ve been working.”
“I thought we’d have seen her this morning when we brought Quinn’s bike in. That’s when all the entries were allowed to start coming in, but she wasn’t here,” Kellie told him.
“I…” Ben’s stomach clenched.
Surely she couldn’t have chickened out and changed her mind. No. Not with as hard as she’d worked on that outfit. She’d poured her heart and soul, and not an inconsiderable number of pricked fingertips, into the jacket and the leotard thing that went with it.
“Who’s her model?” Quinn asked.
“Her brother-in-law,” Ben said. “Ron.”
Quinn shot Kellie a look. She shrugged.
Quinn said, “My mom said Ron was bringing the kids over to my parents’ house to swim this afternoon when they finished with rehearsal.”
Ben’s heart sank.
“What’s wrong?” Kellie stepped out of the line and put her hand on Ben’s arm.
He barely knew these people, and spilling his guts to complete strangers didn’t appeal to him, but they were Megan’s family. “She’s afraid she’ll lose the Shuttlekrumps if she enters this competition,” Ben said.
“What?” Quinn said. “Why?”
“If she wins, she’d have a chance to chase her dream of being a designer. But she’s afraid the family will stop loving her if she stops working for them.”
“Oh no,” Kellie said.
“That’s nuts,” Quinn said. “Her mom and dad have been crazy about her—the whole crew of them have loved her since before she was adopted. Her original mom did a number on her, though, and she’s never been very secure.”
“I have a bad feeling she got scared and changed her mind.”
“I’ll find out if she’s here.” Kellie marched toward the ballroom and pulled one of the huge doors open. When man with a clipboard tried to stop her, she began speaking earnestly in his ear. He spoke to someone through a walkie-talkie and then shook his head at Kellie.
Ben could see on her face—Megan hadn’t come.
“She’s got forty-five minutes. We have to make sure she gets here,” Kellie called over, nodding her head with determination. “Did you call her?”
“No…I didn’t tell her I’d be here, because we weren’t really married, and then…” He trailed off and shook his head. “She probably wouldn’t answer if I called.”
“But you came here to see her,” Quinn affirmed.
“It’s complicated.”
“Well, duh,” Kellie said, laughing. “Of course it is. What’s her number?”
Quinn pushed some buttons on his phone and handed it to Kellie, who waited a moment, then said, “Straight to voicemail.”
“They’re probably still rehearsing,” Quinn said, checking his watch. “They usually have everything turned
off during dress rehearsals, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go get her,” Quinn said.
“We’ll never get there and back in time,” Ben said. “It’ll take half an hour to get out of the parking lot with this crowd.”
“Not with me driving,” Quinn told him. “I don’t usually let anyone but Kellie ride Betty with me, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”
“Good luck!” Kellie said. “I’ll save you guys seats!”
Ben had jogged after Quinn and was halfway through the casino before he realized Betty probably wasn’t an F-250 pickup truck or even a nice little midsize sedan. Quinn was, after all, a biker.
“Here you go,” Quinn said, handing Ben a helmet. “Hang on and lean when I lean.”
Holy hell, Ben thought as his life flashed before his eyes, along with everyone on Las Vegas Boulevard. I hope she appreciates this.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Megan wandered the main concourse of the hotel and casino complex, undecided about where to eat.
Her stomach rumbled—which, to be honest, was nothing new. She might have very well gained twenty pounds in the days since Ben left Las Vegas. She’d started right after he left, cleaning out the fridge of all of his marvelous leftovers. Then she’d worked her way through the ice cream that they’d never managed to eat. She was pretty sure the lady at the convenience store near her apartment was going to arrange an intervention, given the arched eyebrows she’d sent Megan’s way when she’d stopped in for the fourth time in three days to buy chocolate-covered pretzels.
She was trying to decide between burgers or doughnuts when she noticed Bobby the bartender wiping down a table in his little bar. The bar where she’d met Ben.
Maybe she should consider alcohol in place of some of the food now and then. It might numb the misery, and her jeans would probably fit a little better.
She entered the bar and stood staring at the rows of bottles.
“Hey. Can I have a shot of bourbon? That Blue Mountain stuff?”
“Megan! I’m glad you’re here,” Bobby said, pulling a glass and the bottle off the shelf. He poured her drink. “I have something for you. I’m really sorry I didn’t get this to you sooner, but my brother’s wife had her baby and I had to go help them for a couple of weeks, and I just found this when I got back!”
He stepped behind the bar and grabbed a manila envelope, waving it in the air.
“What’s this?” She took the envelope and undid the clasp, sliding out a sheet of paper. In formal calligraphy, it said, “On this blank space day in blank space, two thousand and blank space, Megan Marie Shuttlekrump and Benjamin Harrison Rutledge were joined in Holy Matrimony.”
It was signed “Robert William Willis, Officiant,” and there were two witness signatures Megan couldn’t read.
“Sorry,” Bobby told her. “The witnesses were two maintenance people. I can find them again if we need to, but there shouldn’t be any problem. Did you get the license?”
She still didn’t understand. This was a marriage certificate, but the dates were blank. “What does this mean?”
“Oh.” Bobby nodded sagely. “I thought so. You guys were pretty drunk, so I wondered if you’d even remember doing this, but since you took that selfie, I figured you’d know as soon as you opened your phone the next day. And when I saw you walking by wearing that”—he pointed at the gold band she still hadn’t managed to remove from her left hand—“I guessed you had actually gone to get the license, so we could fill out the dates. We just did the ceremony before we got the actual paperwork. It might not be perfectly legal, but it’s evidence of a relationship, in case you need to sue for support and stuff on common-law grounds at some point.”
“Wait.” She reread the certificate and drank her shot down in one gulp. “So you performed a wedding ceremony for Ben and me?”
“Yep.” He tapped himself on the chest proudly. “I’m ordained by the Church of the Interwebbed Redeemer. I’ve got a business card and everything!” He started to reach into his back pocket.
“That’s okay, you don’t have to prove it.”
Bobby looked disappointed, but Megan couldn’t be sidetracked to stroke his ego.
“So we got married, but we didn’t have a license, so you didn’t fill this out the rest of the way.”
“Right. I was going to do that after you had the actual certificate so the dates would match. Then you could file everything and it would be legal.”
“But it’s not legal now.”
He shrugged. “Only if you don’t want it to be. But I gotta tell you, I’ve married a lot of drunks in my time, and if I had to lay odds that any of them would make it, my money would be on you two.”
Megan stared at Bobby. “I wish you were right,” she said.
Bobby glanced at her left hand again and then, with furrowed brow, asked, “Where is he now?”
She sighed. “He went back to work. It’s over.”
“Oh.” Bobby looked nearly as devastated as she felt, but then his expression cleared. “I’m sorry to hear about that. You want another drink?”
“Sure. Better make it a double.”
…
Ben didn’t say anything for a moment after Quinn shut off the motorcycle outside the performers entrance at the Masquerade. He couldn’t, because his jaw was too tightly clenched.
“Dude, you okay?” Quinn asked, his brow knit with concern.
Ben unclipped the helmet he’d worn and twisted his head this way and that. Still attached. Huh. He took a deep breath and let it out, finally allowing the adrenaline from the ride to course through his body.
“Whooeee. That was sweet!” he told Quinn. “Almost as cool as flying.”
“You’ve never ridden a motorcycle?”
Ben shook his head. “Hell, no. Those things are dangerous.”
Quinn opened his mouth, probably to ask how a jet pilot who took off and landed from an aircraft carrier could think a motorcycle was dangerous, and any other time, Ben would have been delighted to explain, but right now they were men on a mission, so Ben said, “Let’s go find Megan.”
“Right.”
They went in the back door, thanks to a departing musician, and made their way to the Waltzing Wallace Theater. Ben burst through the door, probably like a crazy man, but there was no one to see him. The stage was dark. Disappointment was an icy shower on his heart. “Shit. They’re gone.”
A small face appeared from under the curtain. “Ben!” Megan’s niece crowed.
“Ben! Sweet!” Harry slid around the edge, followed by the rest of the little people, and all of the adults. All of the adults except Megan.
“Ben! It’s nice to see you,” Megan’s mother said, with undisguised puzzlement. “Was Megan expecting you?”
“No,” Ben said. “I, uh, wanted to surprise her.”
“Oh, she’s gonna be surprised,” her dad said.
“Is she…is she around?”
“She went to get lunch,” her dad said.
Ben looked at Quinn. “Can we find her and still make it?” he asked.
Quinn checked his watch and shook his head. “I don’t know. The show starts in half an hour.”
“What show?” Beth asked.
“The bike expo accessory design competition,” Ben said. “Megan made something for it. A jacket and stuff.”
“This?” Clown Brother One asked, holding up a duffel bag in one hand, and the jacket in the other.
“Yes. Great,” Ben said, reaching for it and pulling the multicolored leotard from the bag. He glanced inside. There were boots, too. “We can get it there, and if someone can find Megan and bring her to the MGM Grand, she can see her project compete.”
“Who’s going to wear it?” Quinn asked.
“She’d planned to ask Ron,” Ben said.
Ron eyed the outfit and said, “No can do, buddy.” The group parted so Ben could see him sitting on a stool, a bag of ice on his knee. Ron moved the bag, revealin
g a leg that looked like he’d implanted a basketball. “I think my afternoon is going to consist of sitting by the pool drinking margaritas.”
“Crap.”
Paul held the jacket up. “This is going to swallow any of the rest of us,” he said, indicating the troupe of height-challenged Shuttlekrumps.
“It’ll fit you, though,” Beth pointed out, holding it up to Ben.
“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s really me,” he said, stepping back.
“Dude,” Quinn whispered. “You want the girl to see her dream come true, right?”
Yeah. He did. He wanted her to succeed more than he feared wearing spandex and leather in front of a bunch of rowdy bikers. He’d ridden on the back of a damned motorcycle today; what was one more life-threatening experience?
“Okay.” He turned to follow Quinn back the way they’d come, but Clown Brother Two stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“I don’t know if we should let you just take off with that,” he said.
Ben looked at Megan’s family, who were watching him with interest and suspicion.
Time was short, but he decided to take a few extra seconds, to speak up, since he was on a roll. “Listen, you guys. I don’t know if you know this or not, but Megan has always wanted to be a professional costume designer.”
Everyone looked at one another and shrugged. “We knew she liked making costumes, but not that she wants to make a living at it,” Beth said.
“She’s afraid if she goes after her dream, she’ll lose you guys, and she loves you too much to leave you.”
His announcement was met with stunned silence. Well, he was screwing things up royally now, might as well go all in.
“I love her,” he said.
“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” Harry muttered.
Someone shushed him. “We love her, too.”
“Yeah,” someone else said. “We love her even if she moves to New York to work for Calvin Klein.”
“Or Hollywood.”
“Or Cirque du Soleil.”
Ben nodded. That’s what he thought. “Then let’s show her we believe in her. I’ll put this thing on and wear it at the expo if you guys will find her and bring her to see it compete.”
Accidentally in Love with the Pilot Page 17