by Kira Archer
“Really, a plain wedding band would be fine,” she said, hoping to appeal to his chivalrous side. “I’m not trying to be difficult, but it really is what I’d prefer.”
Brooks looked like he was going to argue, but instead sighed deeply and turned back to the jeweler.
“Can we see a selection of wedding bands?”
“Of course, sir.” The jeweler waved over his assistants. They disappeared through the door and quickly returned, each sporting a new velvet-clad tray.
Leah looked over these with growing dismay. Most of them were nearly as bejeweled as the engagement rings. How could any of them be remotely comfortable to wear? The stones would press into her skin and drive her nuts. Not to mention the fact that she’d be terrified to wear it anywhere without an armed guard. But she did finally see a few bands that were a little less ornate. She chose a thin white gold band set with several round diamonds evenly spaced around the circumference.
“Could we do something like this…only without the diamonds?”
The jeweler looked at Brooks, obviously at a loss for words.
“What if we made the diamonds smaller? Or added some sort of design?” Brooks said. “Like an engraving.”
The jeweler nodded, somewhat mollified. “That would be easy enough. Did you have something in mind?”
“Maybe a flowering vine that wraps around the band?”
“I think that would be lovely, sir,” the jeweler said, nodding his approval.
Brooks glanced at Leah. “Would that be acceptable?”
She nodded. It sounded quite beautiful, and simple enough not to embarrass her. “It sounds very nice, thank you.”
Brooks turned to the jeweler with a smile of triumph. “Well then, I guess that will be all for today. But make it in platinum instead of white gold.”
“Excellent, sir.” The jeweler jumped up before Leah could protest.
Brooks held up a finger. “Oh, and make mine a matching platinum band without the design, please.”
“Why do you get a plain band?” Leah whispered at him.
“Shhh,” he said.
The jeweler nodded again, but his affable expression disappeared when Brooks said, “We’ll need these by tomorrow afternoon. Actually, morning would be better.”
The jeweler’s face paled, but he nodded with a forced smile. “Of course, sir. I’ll have these ready for you first thing in the morning.”
“Wonderful.” Brooks stuck out his hand for a handshake and then turned to take Leah’s hand to lead her back out the door.
“I’ll have to give him a massive tip or buy you a nice wedding present from here,” Brooks said. “Compensate him for the time he’s going to be spending tonight getting those rings ready.”
“If you would have let me get a plain band like I asked it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Maybe I’d like the chance to spoil you a little. It’s not like I’ve ever had a wife before. And I won’t have one long. Being a doting husband for a few months could be fun, if you’d let it.”
“Only a few months, huh?” she said with half a grin.
“Oh, believe me, after a few months of being shackled to me, you’ll be begging the judge to release you.”
She could see herself begging for release, but it wouldn’t be a judge she’d be pleading with. She glanced at Brooks from the corner of her eye, hoping he didn’t notice her sudden flushed cheeks or jumping heart rate. The artery in her neck was probably visibly pulsing. Thinking of Brooks tended to make everything pulse.
“Like it or not,” Brooks said, waving the driver away and opening the car door for her, “you will soon be Mrs. Brooks Larson. I have a reputation to uphold. You might have to fancy it up every now and then. And since money isn’t an issue, you definitely need to take advantage of me. I insist.”
She resisted the urge to sigh. She’d known that being his wife, even for a short time and even if it wasn’t real, would mean stepping out of her comfort zone.
Brooks slid in beside her, laughing. “I’ve never met a woman who treated wearing diamonds with such distaste. You’d think I was asking you to wear a ball of slime on your finger.”
Her lips twitched. “It’s not that bad. It’s just not what I’m used to. I wouldn’t be comfortable with something that large. Don’t say it,” she said when his mouth opened again.
“You read my mind far too easily,” he said instead.
She laughed. “It’s not really hard when your mind seems to permanently reside in the gutter.”
“This is probably true.”
“As I was saying, wearing a massive diamond on my finger, especially since I work with children all day, might not be the best idea. I’d be too afraid to lose it.”
Brooks looked thoughtful for a minute and then nodded. “I guess I can see that.”
It was her turn to show some surprise and he laughed again. “What? I can be reasonable occasionally.”
“Good to know. I was starting to wonder.”
They drove up the street a short distance to several trendy clothing stores, including the studio of a bridal designer Leah had only seen in magazines.
Brooks jumped out and held the door open for her. Leah looked inside the window to see Kiersten waiting for her.
“You ladies have fun,” Brooks said, getting back into the car.
“Oh yeah,” she muttered under her breath.
Shopping for a wedding dress she would never be able to afford on her own to marry a man she barely knew so she could fool a nun she’d recently met into thinking she wasn’t the Harlot of the Year sounded like heaps of fun. How much did it take for a person to get sent to hell?
Though, despite her misgivings and the sheer craziness of the entire situation, she couldn’t help the small flutter of excitement in her belly. Like many little girls, she had always dreamed of what her wedding dress might look like. And while this might not be a real wedding, and it would be more appropriate to wear some simple off-the-rack dress, the thought of trying on gorgeous gowns appealed to her more than she wanted to admit.
She went inside to meet the girls with a much greater bounce in her step than she’d had with the jewelry. With the dress, she could have fun for a day, dress like a princess, and then put it away. A ring would have been a reminder every day of the absurdity of it all.
The dress though… She stared at one of the enormous confections in the window, her smile growing. She could have a little fun with a dress…as long as she didn’t think about the wedding night when her groom would normally be taking it off.
…
Kiersten opened the curtain a little so she could pass in another dress. “Here, try this one.”
Leah took it and hung it on the little hook until she could unzip the one she was wearing. “This isn’t necessary.”
“It’s absolutely necessary. You’re getting married. You need a dress. What were you planning on doing? Heading down to the courthouse in your jeans?”
“No,” Leah said, trying on the sixth dress. “I was going to wear a nice dress, one that I already have. Seems kind of pointless to buy a new dress for something like this.”
“Something like this? You mean your wedding?”
“But it’s not really my wedding. I mean it is, but you know what I mean.”
Kiersten laughed. “All I’m saying is you only get a first wedding once. You might as well make the most of it. What does your mom have to say about all this?”
“We didn’t have much time to talk about it but she’s thrilled I’m getting married. And disappointed she can’t come. I wouldn’t have told her about it at all, but I didn’t want to risk her hearing it from somebody else. I mean Brooks is kind of…well kind of a…”
“Celebrity?” Kiersten said.
“Something like that. The first thing my mom did when I told her was google him. And she wasn’t totally thrilled about all the stuff that came up. But I think she’s too busy swooning to complain. How in the world did I get mix
ed up with a guy like him?”
“I know exactly how you feel,” Kiersten said. “Hell, when I married Cole he was in People magazine’s Sexiest Men edition. It’s definitely an interesting group to marry into.”
“It’s not one I should be marrying into. He should be marrying a model or an actress or Miss Universe or someone.”
“Here, try this one, too.” Kiersten passed in another dress. “I think you’re forgetting the fact he’s dated all those women before. None of them stuck, and yet you’ve managed to snag him with hardly even trying.”
“What do you mean hardly trying? I haven’t tried at all.”
“Well, now you’re just bragging.”
Leah groaned. “You know what I mean. I can’t believe this has gone this far. I haven’t snagged him. Didn’t want to snag him. The only reason we’re in this mess is because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut in front of my boss.”
Kiersten laughed again. “Yeah, keeping his mouth shut isn’t one of Brooks’s strong suits. Don’t get me wrong; he’s a great guy. He’s just a bit of a goofball is all.”
Leah sighed and zipped up another dress. “This is a disaster waiting to happen, even for a temporary marriage. We still have to be roommates for a while. We’ll probably kill each other inside of a week.”
“It won’t be that bad,” Kiersten said. “Now come out and let me see that one.”
Leah came out and stood in front of the three-panel mirror, turning a little from side to side so she could see all the angles.
“Oh, I love that one,” Kiersten said.
“I think I do, too,” Leah said, doing one more twist to see the back.
It was a tasteful lace dress with three-quarter-length sleeves that fell in a flaring skirt to her knee. Simple but beautiful. Perfect for a fake shotgun wedding.
“I think that’s the one,” Kiersten said.
“Agreed.” Leah gave her a big smile.
“See? Aren’t you glad I made you come dress shopping?”
Leah laughed. “Yes, I guess it will be nice to have something presentable to be married in. Oh, God,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “This is insane.”
“It is. But sometimes insane works. Look,” Kiersten said, prying Leah’s hands from her face. “It might be crazy, but it’s also about the only thing you can do to save your job, right?”
Leah nodded.
“Well, then, you might as well make the best of it. Brooks is a good guy. He’s also drop-dead gorgeous and filthy rich to boot. You’ve got the winning trifecta right there. No matter what reason you guys are giving for doing this, the fact remains you are going to be married to him in a few hours. So why not enjoy it?”
“That’s what he says.”
“He is occasionally right,” Kiersten said with a grin.
“And if it all blows up in my face?”
“At least you’ll get a good story out of it.”
Leah laughed. “That part, at least, is true.” She took one last glance in the mirror. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
Kiersten grinned. “Honey, he’s going to love it.”
Chapter Seven
The intercom buzzed and Brooks smiled. He’d hoped his friends would drop by. With Leah out dress shopping, it was the perfect opportunity for a little impromptu bachelor party. He knew he could count on his friends to come through.
He glanced at the computer monitor which showed him the security feed. Harrison, Chris, and Cole stood clustered on the street. He buzzed them in and opened his door.
“What’s this?” he asked as they all marched inside.
“You know what it is,” Harrison said, handing him a six-pack.
“The girls are out doing their thing,” Cole said. “So we’re here to have a little fun ourselves.”
“Can’t let you get married without some sort of a send-off,” Chris said. “Fake wedding or not.”
“And here I thought you guys had forgotten all about me.”
“Ah, mate,” Harrison said. “You know we wouldn’t do that.”
“What’s the plan?” Brooks said, cracking open his first beer.
“Well, with an hour’s notice, you’re looking at it,” Cole said. “Just you, your best friends, a bunch of booze, and a poker table. Couldn’t ask for a more perfect night.”
There might be room to debate that, but before Brooks could say anything, his intercom buzzed again.
“With a couple extra guests,” Chris said.
Brooks’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Please don’t tell me you got me strippers.”
“Okay, I won’t,” Chris said with a grin.
Brooks buzzed them in without even looking at the monitor. His hesitation confused him. Normally, he’d be all over the idea. But this time…he wondered if he could politely excuse himself from his own party.
He shook his head, going to the door to open it. “You guys are insane, you know that?” he said.
“And why is that, dear?” a female voice said.
Brooks whirled around. He knew that voice.
“Mom?”
He looked from her to his friends and back again, but they all looked just as stunned as he was.
“Close your mouth, dear. You’ll catch flies like that. Are you going to let us in?”
“Us?”
She walked past him and looked at everyone standing there with a drink. “Look, Craig. We got here in time for a party.”
Brooks’s dad followed her in and nodded at Brooks. “Son,” he said. His dad had always been one of few words.
“Well now, what do we have here? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?”
“Kind of,” Brooks said. “We have a bit of a bachelor party going on here. I thought you weren’t going to be in until tomorrow morning.”
“We got in early and decided we’d rather come see you than hang out at a hotel.”
“That’s great, Mom,” Brooks said. “But I’m not sure this is the type of thing you want to hang around for.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve always wondered what goes on at these things.”
Brooks opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else the door buzzed again.
Oh God. The strippers.
“That must be more of your friends,” his mom said, walking to the door.
“Wait, Mom…”
But she had already hit the buzzer and gone to open the door.
Brooks looked at his dad, horrified. His dad just raised an eyebrow. Big help.
“Brooks,” his mom said in that sickly sweet voice that usually meant he was in a lot of trouble. “Are these ladies friends of yours?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Larson,” Chris said. “I asked them to come.”
“I see.”
Where did moms learn that special tone that made kids cringe? They didn’t even have to say anything much to convey a world of disappointment. Two words and four grown-ass men went from jovial partygoers to chastised adolescents, standing in the middle of his apartment, their eyes downcast, as if they’d been caught cheating on an exam or sneaking a dessert before dinner.
“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake,” she said to the women at the door. “I don’t think we will be needing your…services tonight.”
Brooks rubbed his hand over his face. Having his mother turn strippers away from his door was definitely going to make his Top 10 List of Embarrassing Moments. It could have been worse, though. She could have shown up mid-show. And as embarrassing as it was to suddenly feel like a hormonal thirteen-year-old being caught by his mother doing something naughty, he had to admit he was a little relieved the strippers were gone. What was the proper response when one’s mother got rid of unwanted strippers for you? Thanks, Mom?
She closed the door on them and turned around. “It looks like you’re going to need some more entertainment for the night.”
“Mom,” Brooks said. He laughed, but sudden and horrifying images of his mother trying to entertain his friends flooded hi
s mind. If she broke out Pin the Tail on the Bachelor, he was out of there.
“What? I’m not a total prude. You are entitled to a little fun the night before your wedding, which you only told your mother about a few hours ago.”
“A little fun with my mother, for my bachelor party?”
“I realize that has therapy written all over it, but I promise it won’t be that bad.”
Brooks looked at his father who just shrugged helplessly. His mother grabbed her purse from where she dropped it on the table. “Come on, boys. We passed a bar down the street. Let’s all go get a drink. My treat.”
They all looked at each other, but none of them were willing to say no to her. So they all shuffled out the door on their way to what had to be the worst bachelor party ever.
Thirty minutes and three drinks later, Brooks knew he’d made a mistake. There were, in fact, quite a few things more humiliating than having a bachelor party thrown by your mother. One of them was having your mother become the life of the party.
She’d failed to mention that the bar she’d seen was a karaoke bar. She’d also failed to mention that she and his father were karaoke aficionados. Three things about that. One, apparently once all the kids left the house, parents will pick up surprising hobbies and, rather than taking up knitting or bowling, his parents liked to hit the bar and belt out a few tunes. Good to know. Two, his mother sang surprisingly well. Her rendition of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” damn near brought tears to his eyes. And three, the fact that she was singing that song directly to his father, making come-hither eyes and crooking her finger at him, was going to have him in therapy for a solid five years. Minimum.
The song ended. Everyone clapped. Brooks thought the worst was over.
He was so very, very wrong.
His dad slammed back a shot and clapped him on the shoulder. “Be right back, son. Don’t let anyone steal my drink.”
Brooks watched him saunter—yes, literally saunter…his quiet, book-loving, nerdy professor father—up to the stage. He took a microphone so he and Brooks’s mother could sing a duet.
The first notes of the song filtered out into the crowd and the hand holding his drink suspended midair in total shock. That song wasn’t a duet. That song shouldn’t be sung as a duet. That song shouldn’t be sung period. Not by parents. In public. To each other. While on stage. IN PUBLIC.