Saving the Bride: An Accidental Marriage Romance

by Kira Blakely

  “No,” I answer, looking down at my lap. “It’s … I can’t believe it, that’s all.”

  He sits up. “Believe what?”

  I shrug. “Everything. Me, not being a virgin anymore. You, being a billionaire and all.”

  Chase sits beside me, our knees touching. “Did you really see my house?”

  I nod then turn my head up toward the ceiling.

  “It’s far bigger and better than this.”

  He chuckles, stretching his knuckles as he leans forward. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  I look at him. “How many rooms does it have?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve ever counted.”

  “That many, huh?”

  “I’d love for you to see it someday.” He reaches for my hand again, placing it on his lap and entwining his fingers with mine. “I’d love for you to meet my mother, too. She’s a very kind woman.”

  I fall silent, pursing my lips as I remember the grief-stricken woman I met at the asylum.

  Chase squeezes my hand. “What’s wrong, Lauren?”

  “I’ve… actually already met your mother.”

  His eyebrows furrow. “At the mansion?”

  I shake my head as I look away from him. “No. At a place called Renaissance Inc.”

  “I’ve never heard of it. Is it a wellness center?”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “She loves those. She gets some sort of bath every week. If it’s not mud or milk, it’s seaweed. Gross, right? But she always ends up looking and smelling fantastic.”

  “No, I don’t think this was the same as those,” I tell him.

  “What do you mean?”

  I take a deep breath. “I met your mother at a… psychiatric institution.”

  “What?” Chase stands up. “That can’t be. A lot of rich people suffer from some mental disorder but I can assure you my mother wasn’t one of them. She was always positive and carefree.” He shakes his head as he scratches his chin. “No, there must be some mistake.”

  I get on my feet as well. “She had blue eyes like yours and wavy golden hair.”

  His eyes grow wide with horror.

  “And she had a pendant shaped like the letter ‘E’ with small diamonds on it.”

  Chase grabs my shoulders. “How did you meet her? What did you tell her? What did she say?”

  “I saw a van coming out of your place from that institution. Then I saw the place on my way home. I stopped by and she was there. I asked her who brought her there and she said it was Terrence. She said he was in control of everything now.”

  Chase’s grip on my shoulders loosens. “My uncle.”

  I step away from him, folding my arms over my chest as I walk to the window. “I tried to tell her you were still alive but she wouldn’t believe me. She only got mad at me, in fact.”

  “She believes I’m dead.”

  I turn to look at him. “She’s suffering, Chase. She thinks she’s lost you for good.”

  “I know.” He leans over the window sill. “I’m worried about her. That’s why I sent James to check on her.”

  He straightens up.

  “Wait. Wasn’t James there? If you knew my mother was there, James should have…”

  I purse my lips again.

  “What happened to James?” he asks.

  I rub my arms against a chill. “I don’t know. All I know is that he went to your place and he never came out. I waited and waited but he never came out.”

  The color drains from his face. He runs to the bed, getting something from under his pillow. A phone. He dials a number then holds it to his ear.

  “The number you are trying to reach is not available. Please…”

  “Fuck!” He throws the phone on the bed then sits on the edge, running his hands through his hair.

  My hand goes to my heart, and my chest grows tight. I want to go to him and wrap my arms around him but footsteps approach.

  Shit.

  There’s only one other person on the farm, and he can’t see me like this.

  I jump out the window, Chase throwing me the rest of my clothes, my scarf, and my shoes. I miss one shoe, picking it up as the door to the barn creaks open.

  I scurry toward the wall, clutching my things as I press my back against the side of the barn.

  “Morning, Chase.”

  My father’s voice rumbles inside the barn, and I hold my breath.

  “Isaac,” Chase greets him. “I was about to go out there and do my chores. Hey, Smoke. How are you doing, buddy?”

  Smoke?

  No, no, no. Don’t smell me. I’m not here. I’m part of the woods and weeds.

  “Have you seen Lauren?” my father asks. “Her car’s back but she wasn’t in her room and her bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in.”

  “Strange,” Chase says. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

  “So, you haven’t seen her?”

  “No,” Chase answers. “I haven’t seen her. Maybe she went over to Kelly’s.”

  “Hmm.”

  The bed creaks.

  “Smoke, get off the bed!” my father shouts.

  “It’s fine,” Chase says.

  “No, it’s not. I don’t want him in my bed next. He’s a good boy and all but trust me, he’s got fleas. He seems awfully interested in your bed.”

  I turn my head to take a peek through a small hole in the wall. Smoke’s in there, enthusiastically sniffing the bed.

  Oh good god.

  “What are you sniffing there, huh?” Dad sits on the cot, then runs his hand over the sheets. “Did you spill something here?”

  “No. That must be sweat. It was a warm night.”

  I clasp a hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh at the knowledge of what Smoke must be sniffing.

  Bad dog.

  “So, do you want me to go look for Lauren?” Chase asks.

  “Nah.”

  I peek through the hole again, and my father gets off the cot, pulls his pants up.

  “She’s old enough.”

  Chase nods. He already has his pants and his shirt on and is putting on his hat.

  Finally, Smoke gets off the bed but starts sniffing the wall behind me next.

  Shit.

  I dart toward the nearest tree as quietly as I can and hide behind it.

  What is it with me and hiding behind trees lately?

  From where I’m hiding, I don’t hear any more of the conversation inside the barn. The door opens moments later.

  “I’ll leave it to you then,” my father says. “Come on, Smoke. Let’s head back to the house and wait for Lauren there.”

  “Don’t worry,” Chase calls after him. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  I wait until the footsteps fade. Then I steal a peek. Chase stands in front of the barn, hands on his hips. He walks over to me.

  “Is he gone?” I ask him.

  “Yeah.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Whew. That was close.”

  “Yeah.” Chase grins. “Thankfully, I’m a good actor.”

  “You mean a good liar,” I tell him. “And thankfully, Smoke’s not as young as he used to be or he’d have found me.”

  “Thankfully, Isaac didn’t sniff the sheets himself.”

  I chuckle. “We were lucky this time.”

  “Yeah.”

  He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine.

  The kiss lasts only a second but my heart is doing somersaults again.

  “I better go. I’ll try calling James again later.”

  “Okay.” I nod. “I should get back to the house.”

  “You should. Though, maybe you should put pants on first. Your father might not appreciate the view as much as I do.”

  He walks off with a wink, leaving me blushing and still flustered from the kiss and the near escape from my father.

  What a crazy adventure this is all turning out to be.

  * * *

  I fin
d my father in front of the house, sitting on the bench with a lamb sucking a bottle of milk on his lap. Beside him, Smoke is busy chewing on his bone but wags his tail as I approach. My father notices and looks up, our eyes meeting.

  “Good morning,” I greet him, kissing the top of his head.

  He looks away, turning back to his task. “Where were you?”

  I pet Smoke’s head. “I was taking a walk.”

  Well, I was now, after getting dressed. I decided it would be a little suspicious if I came back to the house right after my Dad paid Chase a visit.

  “When did you arrive? I was waiting for you last night.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, placing my hands behind my back. “My friend and I lost track of time so I came home late.”

  “You could have called.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you had your phone turned on or if it was with you.”

  “You would have found out if you had called.”

  He lifts his head and there’s pain in his eyes. A thorn spears my chest and a lump forms in my throat.

  I’ve lied to my father before. I’ve hurt him before. But not like this.

  I’m a jerk for worrying him, needlessly.

  I squat in front of him, placing my hand on his knee. “I’m really sorry, Dad.”

  He doesn’t answer but the fact that he doesn’t say more lets me know I’m forgiven.

  He’s never been able to stay mad at me.

  I reach out to pet the lamb, fingers rubbing against the soft wool. “This is Martin, isn’t it?”

  He nods.

  “Hello, Martin. Hey, easy on that bottle, all right?”

  The lamb keeps sucking enthusiastically, the bottle only about one-fifth full.

  I pat him on the head. “He’s going to be a strong ram, this one.”

  “He better,” my father says. “We don’t have too many good ones left.”

  “Don’t you worry, Martin,” I talk to the lamb in my baby voice, rubbing between his ears. “Dad and I will take good care of you.”

  “And Chase,” my Dad adds. “You forgot Chase. Something tells me he’ll be around for a long time.”

  I say nothing, simply nodding.

  Wheels rumble up behind me. I rise and turn my head. A maroon Tahoe pulls into the driveway.

  Weird - yesterday, we got a visit from a patrol car. Now, this.

  My father isn’t too pleased either. Not a long time ago, there were some people in fancy SUVs dropping by the ranch and trying to talk him into selling it. I hope these people aren’t like them.

  The SUV stops and two men come out, one wearing a leather jacket over a white shirt and faded jeans, the other wearing sunglasses, a checkered red and black shirt and dark jeans with silver sneakers. They’re both tall and heavily built, almost six feet tall and maybe around 200 pounds each.

  “Good day.” The guy in the checkered shirt removes his sunglasses as he stops a few feet away from me then holds up the tablet he’s holding. “We’re from the Census Bureau.”

  Census Bureau? I throw my father a puzzled look.

  “What do you want?” he asks them.

  “We’re going to ask some questions,” the man with the leather jacket answers.

  That’s what the detective said yesterday.

  Still, I take a deep breath and force myself to relax. There’s no use being paranoid.

  “I’ll let you deal with them,” my dad says, standing up beside me. “I’ve got to bring this lamb back to the flock and take care of a few more things.”

  I lift my eyebrows. He’s leaving me to deal with these guys?

  Then again, he’s never been the friendly kind of guy, which is why he’s spent most of his life cooped up here in this ranch.

  “Okay,” I say as I watch him go.

  It’s not like I have a choice.

  I turn to the visitors. “So, what do you want to know?”

  The man in the checkered shirt taps the screen of his tablet. “We want to know how many people live here along with the names and ages.”

  “Well, there’s my father, Isaac Calver, the man who left. He’s fifty-four.”

  “And you?” the man in the leather jacket asks.

  I tuck some strands of hair behind my ear. “I’m twenty. I’m Lauren Calver. I’m not sure if you can still count me as living here, though, since I go to college.”

  “Lauren Calver,” the man in the checkered shirt repeats as he types on his gadget. “What about your mother?”

  “She’s been gone for a long time,” I answer.

  “You mean dead?” the other man asks.

  I nod, folding my arms over my chest.

  I don’t really want to talk about it, not to a pair of strangers. Besides, if they’re from the Census Bureau, shouldn’t they know about it? They’re the ones who are supposed to be experts on births and deaths, right?

  “Anyone else?” the man in the checkered shirt asks.

  “Just a farmhand staying in an old barn. He hasn’t been around for long.”

  “A farmhand?”

  “Yeah. He’s…”

  I pause, catching the glint of a gun beneath the leather jacket of the other man. Do the people who work for the Census Bureau normally carry firearms?

  Something tells me no. Not just that. I’m beginning to think these guys may not be from the Census Bureau, after all.

  Maybe I should have asked them for IDs.

  “You were saying?” the guy with the tablet asks with raised eyebrows.

  “Um…”

  “What’s his name?” the other man asks.

  “Jack, I think,” I answer. The fake name pops out, easy. “Or was it Jake? Jake Brown or something. I can’t remember.”

  “Age?” the man in the checkered shirt asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Early twenties, maybe.”

  Chase is twenty-nine.

  The man types on his tablet, the other falling silent. I put my hands in my pockets, leaning back on my heels and holding my breath as I impatiently wait for them to leave.

  Finally, the man lowers his tablet, nodding. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

  I nod. The other man offers to shake my hand so I let him, noting his vise-like grip.

  They go back to the car, driving off after a few minutes. After they’ve gone, I sit on the bench behind me and place a hand on my chest, letting out a sigh of relief.

  I’m not really relieved though. In fact, I’m worried. Who were those men and what did they want?

  I have a bad feeling about this.

  Chapter 12

  Chase

  I toss the burner phone beside me on the bed and run my hands through my hair.

  I can’t get hold of James.

  Why is his phone still off? Has he gone into hiding, or left the country? Or did something or someone convince him not to get in touch with me?

  I shake off the thought.

  James is smart. Maybe he turned off his phone because it isn’t safe. I’ll have to wait for him to call.

  But what do I do in the meantime? Just sit here? And what if I never hear from James? What then? Do I stay here at the ranch forever?

  As pleasant as that idea sounds, especially now that Lauren and I are lovers, it’s not possible.

  If Lauren’s right, my mother is in an asylum and I have to get back to her. I have to get her out of there and set things right in the company before the damages become irreparable.

  I get off the bed and head outside.

  One thing I do know – if I don’t start doing my evening chores, I’ll get another visit from Isaac and maybe a lecture. As aware as I am that my life as a farmhand is only temporary, I don’t want to leave the ranch worse than I found it.

  I get out of the barn, stare at the horizon which turns from turquoise to amethyst, the dying rays of the sun scattered.

  Another day almost over.

  I stop, spotting two broad silhouettes against the fiery landscape. Even from far away, I ca
n tell they’re bad news.

  I run back into the barn and close the door. I squeeze under the bed.

  I’m not prepared to fight these fuckers on Isaac’s property. Not when it could involve the Calvers in my problems.

  I press my arms to my sides, turning my head to the side as well so that I’m not staring at the dust and cobwebs above me.

  The door to the barn bursts open, a pair of black, leather boots and silver Nikes appearing on the floor.

  It’s the asshole who dumped me over the cliff. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  “It’s empty,” one of them says, the voice familiar.

  The other man grunts. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Mr. Nike steps forward, stopping by the bed.

  “This place is shit. The horses have it better. Do you really think that kid we tried to kill could live here?”

  “Who knows? If he’s desperate, he’ll settle for anything, though I still can’t believe he survived. We should have split his skull on a boulder.”

  Mr. Nike approaches the bed and I hold my breath, don’t move a muscle.

  “Hey. Look at this,” he says. “A burner phone. Didn’t James say he gave Chester a phone?”

  James? They spoke to James?

  He presses a button on the phone and the message echoes in the room.

  “The number you have dialed is unavailable. Please try again later.”

  He laughs. “Seems like Chester’s out of options and friends.”

  My jaw clenches. My hands roll into fists at my sides.

  Bastards.

  Footsteps pad across the dirt and grass outside.

  More men?

  “Chase?” Lauren calls out, and I grow deathly still.

  Why did she have to drop by now?

  Her brown flat shoes pad into view, and I curse silently, fear churning in my gut.

  “Well, well, well, who do we have here?” one of the men asks.

  “Who are you?” There’s fear in Lauren’s voice, and it makes me wanna rip these fucking walls down, tear shit up. “What are you doing here?”

  Mr. Nike walks up to her. “What did you say your name was again? Lauren?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “Didn’t you say the name of your farmhand was Jake?”

  “I said I don’t remember,” she answers, voice trembling.

  “You know it’s a crime to lie to a federal employee,” Mr. Nike says. “But I’ll forgive you if you tell me everything you know right now.”