Accidentally On Purpose: An Accidental Marriage Boxset

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Accidentally On Purpose: An Accidental Marriage Boxset Page 43

by Piper Sullivan


  When we walked into the community center I mentally added a third thing to my list. Eat my body weight in food.

  There were three tables loaded up with food, everything from staples like gumbo and jambalaya, to mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, baked beans, and a whole table filled with nothing but meat. Barbecue meat, grilled meat, burgers, sausages and moist herbed chicken that had my mouth watering. And my stomach grumbling.

  “Oh good, Mason you’re here! Where’s Trish?”

  I wanted to ask how in the hell I should know? But Aunt Mae was a cool lady, and she didn’t deserve my anger. “That has nothing to do with me, Mae. Despite what the papers say.”

  And the Belle Musique newspaper and Facebook feed had been publishing nonstop information on me and Trish. Everything from sightings around town, to analyzing wedding photos and the infamous video. Not to mention speculating about fertility and procreation.

  “Nonsense.” Mae brushed my words off with a dismissive wave. “We all know you two are trying to figure it out, so just, please…go get our girl. She’s probably still at the shop, so that’s where you’ll likely find her.” Somehow while she was talking, Mae managed to shuffle me to the door, giving me a hard shove out into the slightly chilly night air. “Hurry back now!”

  Before I moved to this town, I would have thought this behavior was weird, and more importantly, I would have told Mae where to go with her opinions. But despite her bossy nature, I knew the woman only wanted the best for Trish, and for me for some reason. So I shrugged it off and made the quick two block walk to Belle Bean where I found the door unlocked.

  And Trish dancing her sexy little ass off to some old school rap music. “Miss me, Cupcake?”

  She screamed, turned and tossed a whipped cream covered spatula at me with amazing accuracy. “Will you stop doing that, damn you!”

  I leaned against the wall beside the door that led to the kitchen with my arms crossed and grinned. “Why would I when it’s so fun. You’re cute when you’re terrified.”

  She rolled big blue eyes and blew a strand of hair from her face before swiping her forehead with the sleeve of her t-shirt. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  It was a fair question since I hadn’t set foot in the shop since we returned from New Orleans. And our own wedding. Instead of acknowledging her point, I shrugged.

  “Is that any way to greet your husband?”

  My little cupcake growled and swear to god, the sound went straight to my cock, making my jeans extra uncomfortable. “Are you looking to be maimed tonight? Because I don’t have time, but I could probably make some just for you.”

  I licked my lips and pushed off the wall, happy to see she still had some fight left in her after the silent drive from the city back to Belle Musique. I can’t say it wasn’t a little disappointing and disheartening to have her be so devastated at the idea of marrying me, but I hadn’t given her any reason to react another way. Still, I couldn’t help but tease her.

  “Is that some kind of kinky sexy thing?” She growled again, but this time the sound was accompanied by a flying glob of cream that landed dead center of my chest. “Okay, okay, calm down wifey. Mae sent me here to get you. Apparently your presence is requested at the potluck this evening.”

  I already knew the answer before she started to shake her head, which caused her loose ponytail to fall out. She let out another frustrated growl and I took a few steps forward. “I can’t. I’m busy. Just tell her you couldn’t find me, it shouldn’t be all that hard,” she grumbled the last part, and I smiled because as needy and clingy as the feeling was, I felt happy she seemed put out by my avoidance tactics.

  “You feeling neglected, Cupcake?”

  “No, I’m not. What I’m feeling is interrupted from my work, if you don’t mind.” Without another word, she turned her back to me, because in Trish’s world, her work was what mattered and no one dared bother her while she was creating.

  No one but me.

  “I do mind,” I told her and wrapped my arms around her waist, the same way I had when she almost collapsed on the floor in Crosby’s honeymoon suite. I dropped a kiss on her neck that produced a satisfying shiver. “You’ve been avoiding your wifely duties and I’m cashing in.”

  She tried to step back but I wouldn’t let her, so all she could do was turn to look at me, giving me a glimpse of the dark blue color of her eyes, threaded with gold you could barely see thanks to the desire swimming in those dark orbs. “You came for sex?” She seemed to relax at that thought, like she knew how to handle that part of our relationship. “Fine, meet at my place in,” she glanced at her watch, “two hours. Now, please leave.”

  Damn, I’d never been so soundly dismissed by a woman. Not fucking ever. And it wouldn’t start now. I ground my hips against her round ass so she could feel just how much I was affected by her.

  “Not before I get a little taste, Cupcake.”

  She turned, ready to kick me out I was sure, but I didn’t let her. Instead my mouth crashed down onto hers and I moaned, because she always tasted so sweet. A heady combination of her, and whatever concoction she’d been taste testing that day. And dammit, Trish kissed the same way she fucked. With her whole body. She pressed her body against mine, her hands fisted in my hair as she licked my lips, then my tongue. I had only meant to tease her a little, to get another taste of her sweetness, but Trish had other ideas.

  Her tongue tangled with mine and then she sucked it, the same way she’d taken my cock in her mouth and I pulled back with a groan. “Now I really I have to get back to work. See you in two hours.”

  I wouldn’t let her dismiss me, and it wasn’t ego. It was self-preservation. Mostly. “You know if I come back without you, Mae will just show up here. Or worse, she’ll bring the whole dinner to you.” She wanted to argue, I know she did, but after a solid minute of debating her options, Trish untied her apron and hung it up before she set about setting her kitchen to rights.

  “All right, let’s get this over with.”

  “And then we go back to your place?” I was shameless, I know, but that kiss had made everything more vivid. All the images that replayed in my mind all week came crashing back, and I wanted to have Trish again. No, I needed to have her again. And again.

  Trish

  “What in the fresh hell is this?”

  “It wasn’t like this when I was here earlier.” Mason rushed to get the words out, and it made me feel a little better than he sounded as panicked as I felt.

  Panic was an understatement. It started as panic when my eyes landed on the big banner that said ‘Congratulations on your Wedding Trish & Mason’, but as I took in the red and white theme perfect for a Valentine’s Day, or Christmas wedding, panic grew to a full on attack.

  Panic attack maybe, but more like an anxiety attack.

  The walls were decorated with red and white lace hearts, and a kissing couple silhouette acted as centerpieces for all the dining tables. Then there was the food. Three tables piled high with food, and one of them held nothing but meat.

  “Is that a wedding cake?” It had three, no four tiers and a couple on top.

  It was a damn nightmare come to life. “Looks like uh,” Mason swallowed hard, looking nervous as his gaze landed on what looked like buttercream frosting. “Looks like I was gone a little longer than I thought. It was normal when I left…”

  No doubt that was exactly the town’s plan. “I believe you. The citizens of Belle Musique are a sneaky lot. You can’t turn your back on them for one second. That’s why they sent you to come get me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because everyone else was in on the shenanigans.” Which probably explained why none of my so called friends had greeted me yet.

  “Damn.” Mason raked a hand through his hair and blew out a low, overwhelmed breath, but my focus was on the tattooed arm and the muscle flexing with every move. “So what do we do, Cupcake?”

  Run. Pack a bag. Change my name and get on a plane t
o Eastern Europe. That sounded good right about now, but that wasn’t an option, not with my business finally doing so well. Since news of the double wedding broke, internet sales increased by more than forty percent, and another ten percent after Kerry, fresh from her honeymoon, hit the interview circuit and gushed about my engagement and wedding products. This whole marriage thing was good for my bottom line, but terrible, oh so terrible for my peace of mind.

  “I don’t know about you, but I plan to fill my empty stomach with all of this delicious food.”

  “All of it?” I understood Mason’s skepticism, but I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the scent of pulled pork with pineapple and habanero barbecue sauce called to me. My tired feet carried me towards the food tables and I was almost there when I was accosted by Aunt Mae in her teal and yellow flowing dress.

  “All of it,” I grumbled, accepting Mae’s warm hug.

  “Trish, dear, I am so happy for you. For both of you!” She wrapped one of her arms around mine, chattering a mile a minute as I looked over my shoulder where the pulled pork grew further and further away. Dammit. “I was so glad to hear you and Mason were dating, and even happier this marriage was no mistake on my part.” Mae laughed to herself like this was all some big joke. Though I guess from her perspective, it kind of was. Clapping her hands, she held my face in her hands and kissed both cheeks. “Enjoy your evening my little lovebirds.”

  Lovebirds. I snorted a laugh to myself at that. Mason and I were a lot of things. Enemies. Lovers. Hot for each other. But lovebirds we were not.

  My stomach chose that moment to growl again, and I was grateful for the Top 40 music blasting through the speakers to cover the sound. “Food,” I said to myself and turned with the plan to get back to the food table and stuff my face.

  But I was stopped by a big, hard tattooed body holding two plates piled high with food. In that moment he looked almost as good as if he were naked. Almost. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got a little bit of everything.”

  Aw, man. Why did he have to look so dazed while he was being so sweet? It took the edge off of any snarky comments I could have made, damn him. My gaze landed on the plates, one had a serving or two of at least eight different side dishes while the other had a bunch of, what else, meat. Front and center, was the pulled pork and my mouth watered.

  “Works for me. Thanks,” I told him and gestured for him to sit while I ran to the drinks mini-table and came back in less than a minute.

  “Champagne? Are we celebrating?”

  I groaned and leaned back against the chair with a pulled pork sandwich in my hands and sighed. “I guess it was stupid to think they wouldn’t react this way.” That thought had me taking a giant unladylike bite, because that’s what any red blooded woman did when faced with overwhelming emotions. She ate them.

  “We can just get a divorce, Trish.” His voice sounded resigned, and maybe a little disappointed, which I didn’t quite understand, because it wasn’t like he wanted to be married to me. I didn’t even think Mason did commitment.

  Not that it mattered if he wanted to stay married or not, because I had no plans to prolong this relationship. If you could even call it a relationship.

  “We could, but when Vivi and Nash tried that, all the lawyers in town were mysteriously absent for the foreseeable future.”

  He whistled his shock and leaned back. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. They excel at sabotage, and it’s this low-key, slightly intrusive kind of sabotage that doesn’t even allow you to get mad about it.” I refused to get mad about it, because it wouldn’t change anything. What I had to do was be smarter.

  “So, obi wan Cupcake, what do we do?” He scooped up a spoonful of jambalaya with a grin. And an erotic moan. “Damn that’s good.”

  I licked my lips at the sound of his moan, a thousand different carnal thoughts flashed through my mind, the least of which was me between his legs, his head thrown back with a growl working its way out of his mouth while I made him lose his mind. “Damn,” I whispered to myself and when Mason gave me that knowing look, I played it off. “This is good too.”

  “Right.” Yeah, he was right not to believe me, but a gentleman wouldn’t call me out, even with a little hum of disbelief.

  “We wait them out,” I told him, changing the subject because that was the coward’s way out, and totally acceptable. “Make them think we’re married and happy and all that junk. This way they won’t be expecting it when we go get a divorce.”

  Mason looked skeptical and I understood it why. “I grew up here, Mason. Trust me, if we do this any other way, they will find out and they will sabotage us.”

  “You’re sure?” His lips twitched, and I shoved a rib into my mouth, letting the taste of Jack Daniels and barbecue sauce set my taste buds on fire.

  “Positive. Totally.” I finished chewing that rib and even though another was calling my name, I decided that I was right. We had to play the happy couple. For now. “So, how was your week honey?”

  Mason blinked, pausing like he thought maybe it was a joke. At first. “Good. Mostly. And weird. This town is really nosy.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “You have no idea. If you let them, they’ll ask the most personal questions. A couple days ago, someone asked if I was emotional because it was that time of the month.”

  “No!”

  “Yep and when I said no, Betty and Mae passed cash between each other, betting on whether I was pregnant or premenstrual.”

  He choked on his bite of potato salad, green eyes wide with shock. “They didn’t.”

  “They did. So…any exciting tattoos this week?”

  He blinked again, confused. “Um, a couple. Why?”

  I grinned. “Because this is what husbands and wives do, talk about their day and stuff.”

  “And stuff?” I nodded, defiant. “Okay. This guy came in, totally sober, and asked me to tattoo his mom’s face on his belly.”

  I frowned. “That sounds weird, but not all that crazy.” I mean, I was sure people came in for all kinds of weird tattoos, I’ve seen them on the internet.

  “He wanted the mouth to be his belly button because, ‘She was a dirty whore who spent most of her life with her mouth like this but I love her, ya know?’ His words, not mine.”

  I laughed way too hard over that and we managed to talk for thirty full minutes while we finished our food, okay our second set of plates, without arguing. I knew we didn’t have much time alone, so I wiped my mouth and stood with a smile. “Ask me to dance?”

  The jerk had the nerve to make me wait while he dragged the final roll through the remaining mixture of barbecue sauce and chewed. So slowly. Finally he wiped his hands and mouth before he stood. Finally.

  “May I have this dance, Cupcake?”

  I accepted his hand and let him guide me onto the dance floor where we spent the rest of the night dancing. And polishing off that bottle of champagne.

  And maybe some of another bottle because, you know, apparently Mason and I aren’t a pair who learns from their mistakes.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.” My skin was flush with that slightly invigorated feeling that I hadn’t expected to feel. My legs tingled, specifically my thighs tingled and Mason’s clean masculine scent was wrapped all around me. “I must be drunk.”

  Mason laughed and lifted me off his death trap motorcycle, keeping his big hands on my waist because I was too unsteady on my own.

  “If you’re drunk off anything, Cupcake, it’s barbecue sauce.” He laughed at his own joke and I smacked his belly, nearly falling over in the process. “I gotcha, wifey.”

  “Now I get why you ride this thing.”

  “Because it looks and feels cool as hell?”

  I laughed again, this time allowing him to take my weight, and absorbing the hot, hardness of him. “No, because every ride is like a mini orgasm.” At his shocked look, I burst out laughing, which turned into a squeal when he hoisted me over his shoulde
rs.

  “Tell me more about this mini orgasm of yours.” Mason, the sexy jerk, laughed and smacked my ass. “In great detail.”

  If he smacked me one more time it would become a very large orgasm. “Mason, don’t make me kick your ass.”

  With another laugh he smacked my ass and climbed the steps to my house. “You and what army, Cupcake? Now open the door before people start talking.” He turned so I was facing the door, and though it took me a minute, I got the door unlocked.

  “Put me down!”

  “I will. When I’m good and ready.” He punctuated his final word with another slap on my ass. “Damn Cupcake, you got a fine ass!” Another smack.

  “Dammit, Mason! You’re gonna pay for that.” I wasn’t in a position of power, dangling over his shoulder, but I said it with as much firmness as I could. Through the laughter.

  He did put me down eventually. Right on my bed. “Okay Cupcake, I’m ready to pay.”

  When I righted myself, he stood at the foot of my bed with his arms crossed looking hot and intimidating, sexy and tough. Like a whole lotta badass. “You should probably sleep here tonight.” It wasn’t the bold proclamation it sounded like, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought he should stay the night.

  “To sell that we’re happily married?”

  I could tell my answer mattered to him, because of course it did, because Mason couldn’t just be some big bad tattoo artist, he also had to be sensitive, damn him. So I gave him honesty. “That’s a factor too.” He looked uncertain, and that made me feel uncertain. “But if that’s a problem, take the guest room.”

  Mason stood staring at me for so long I began to squirm, uncomfortably. Or maybe it was the intensity of his stare that hit me right on my clit. My throbbing, throbbing clit. Then he toed off one boot and then the other.

  “Nope, no problem at all.” His hands tugged up on the hem of his shirt and I froze, breath held as I waited for Mason to reveal the holy hell hotness that was his chest and abs. And arms.

 

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