by Magan Vernon
Though I never remembered him ever smoking cigarettes, and this one looked homemade. I remembered him buying it off one of the cowboys at the event, who dropped it on the ground and Clay then picked it up like it was a discarded piece of gum.
Weird.
“You can’t kill me until at least after the wedding. Let me get have some of that honeymoon sex before I die,” he said with a smirk, blowing out a big cloud of smoke.
“I am not going to have sex with you, and I’m not going to marry you either,” I said, my words slurring as I went to shove him, but instead, I found my hand running down the length of his arm.
He had so many pretty tattoos. All these different colors and symbols. And his arms were hard. I’d been with muscular guys and gangly guys, but he was just the right amount of military strength and cowboy buff. The thought of him had my already warm body buzzing with an electricity that purred.
“Your lips say one thing, but those eyes are saying you want to get me naked right now and see what you’ve been missing all these years.”
“You’re cocky,” I said but couldn’t tear my gaze away from his arms, desire pooling deep within me. I could have blamed it on whatever I took out of that bottle, but I also knew deep down I’d had a little thing for Clay Carrington since high school. Back when he was just the older bad boy. But we were in different cliques, and there was no way I could be seen with a guy like him.
Now that we were out of high school and out of the cliques, our banter was electric. Some days, I wanted to rip his head off, and on others, his clothes. Then I’d try to remember we were at work, and I wasn’t sure if he was flirting or wanted to rip my head off as well.
“I’m sure you’ll see just how cocky I am tonight. After the wedding, though. Gotta save myself like a gentleman.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “You’re like the opposite of a gentleman. A cowboy. Well, can you be a Mohawked cowboy?”
He laughed, a sound that vibrated his whole stomach. His arm went around my waist, his warm fingers blazing through my dress, causing every hair on my arms and neck to stand on end. “You’re a real trip. We should hang out like this more often.”
“When we hang out, we fight. And we would be fighting right now if I could stop staring at you,” I blurted without even thinking. My sense of reason went out the window hours ago, or maybe it was days. I couldn’t even remember when I took those pills anymore. Now I was just on this floating cloud in the middle of the Vegas Strip.
He flicked his cigarette and then turned me to face him. His green eyes blazed even in the dim light around us. I thought he would say something, but instead, he pulled me close to him. My lips parted as if I’d been waiting for his mouth.
A cloud of damp, earth-tasting smoke floated into my mouth before his lips covered mine.
The woody smoke danced on the roof of my mouth as his tongue met mine, our mouths combining in a beautiful dance that had me sighing and soaring higher than I was just moments before.
Maybe it was whatever he had in that cigarette—that I was pretty sure now wasn’t a cigarette. Or the pills. Or the fact that I’d had a teeny tiny crush on that bad boy forever, and now kissing him was making me melt down to my toes.
He dragged his teeth along my swollen bottom lip before breaking our kiss and pressing his forehead against mine. His ragged breath and steadily beating heart boomed in the same rhythm as my own humming body.
“If that’s just a preview of our honeymoon, we should find a dress shop and the nearest chapel.”
“That you or the new high talking?” He raised his eyebrows.
All my reason had gone out the window a long time ago, so I figured what could it hurt to go with what I was feeling?
“Both. Now let’s get me a dress and get you in a suit.”
Chapter 5
Clay
I wish I had something stronger than beer during the last day at the rodeo. And something that could knock me the hell out on the plane ride home.
But that was kind of what got me into this whole mess in the first place.
Was I utterly ridiculous for staying married to this chick just to possibly move up in her dad’s company?
Probably.
But now that I’d gone this far, I couldn’t go back. We were in this for at least as long as it took us to file and be granted an annulment or divorce.
I wasn’t as stupid as I looked. I knew the process took a while, and we’d have to file in our own state and county. That and Google was a good friend to find that info.
Either way, we’d have to stay married for a while, and if I could have a little fun with Christy before then, I’d take it as a win.
But the usually loud and boisterous chick was now a meek and quiet girl I didn’t recognize. She went to bed early on our last night in Vegas and didn’t talk my ear off on the way back to Texas.
I hated to say it and wanted to ignore the lurching in my gut at the thought, but I missed the crazy girl.
When we touched down at DFW, she immediately had her phone out, tapping away as she had been all weekend. I’d glanced at it few times, expecting her to be texting or on social media, but she was Googling everything she could about divorces. Luckily, I’d been doing the same thing and would have an answer for anything she threw at me.
“So, your dad picking you up? He ready to see his new son-in-law?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.
“Stop that,” she hissed, swatting my chest. If she didn’t move her fingers away by the time I realized it, I would have sworn she lingered on the barbell through my left nipple.
“What?”
She rolled her eyes. “If you must know, I’m calling a Lyft. Not ready to face him or my mom yet, and they’re too busy to pick me up anyway.”
I grabbed her phone and slid it into my back pocket. I didn’t know if she’d reach for it, but the small, throbbing part of me kind of hoped she did.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“No need to get some creeper in a Honda to pick you up. My sister will be here in a few. She can take us both back.”
I didn’t ask Brooke, and she wasn’t the biggest fan of having things sprung on her, but hey, if Christy was standing right there, she couldn’t say no either.
She raised her eyebrows. “You really think that’s a good idea?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool on the outside even though my heart was pounding so hard I swore all my hardware was rattling. “Why not? We’re both going back to the same place. That is, if you’re ready to move in.”
“You are ridiculous,” she said through gritted teeth. “As soon as we get back, I’m going to ...”
I stopped and turned around until I was directly in front of her, causing her to flit her gaze to mine. If my heart wasn’t already beating wildly, now it was on the verge of bursting out of my chest as I stared into those chocolate brown eyes. “You'll what? Tell your parents you took some pills that one of my friends gave you in Vegas and woke up married to me? Not only are they going to throw a shit fit at you, but they’ll throw one at me too.”
“You might have a point, but that still doesn’t excuse you from being an ass,” she grumbled.
“Not gonna stop me either. Come on, Brooke’s waiting in the cell phone lot for me to text her.”
Pulling out my phone, I sent my sister a quick “here” message and gave her our gate number to pick us up. I didn’t know if Brooke was actually waiting there, but I hoped she was at least close.
Since Brooke had moved out of my house and in to the place her boyfriend and country superstar Eddie Justice built next door, I hadn’t seen much of her. You would think, even though she was a few steps away on forty acres, I’d actually get to see more of her, but you’d be wrong.
She always seemed to be on a deadline, and when I wasn’t at the Q Ranch, I was usually either passed out or close to it, while playing video games with my roommate, Noah.
My sist
er pulled up to the busy airport curb in her shiny new black SUV that I was pretty sure she hated and loved at the same time. She wasn’t one to flaunt anything, but she did gush via text more than once that it had heated and air-conditioned seats. After her car finally met its final death, Eddie surprised her with this new baby. I guess having a rich boyfriend had its perks. And now I had a wealthy wife. Though I couldn’t see Christy buying me a car or anything, for that matter, since I was pretty sure she hated me. And I didn’t need it.
I’d been fine on my own for this long, and I didn’t need her to bail me out or help me with a new truck or my mortgage I still had a significant note on.
But if she offered?
No ... no, I couldn’t take her up on that either.
For better or for worse, we were together now until we straightened out this shit show we got ourselves into.
Brooke put her large sunglasses on top of her head, staring at me with a raised eyebrow as I loaded Christy’s and my bags into the back before crawling into the passenger seat.
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing a friend back.” Brooke’s eyes trailed all the way from the top of Christy’s high bun down her tiny frame covered in a loose-fitting UT sweatshirt and leggings.
I’d complained about the bossy chick a lot to my older sister when we lived together, but since Brooke was seven years older than Christy, she never actually knew or met the girl.
I hitched my thumb in the back seat where the girl sat wide-eyed after climbing into the high leather seats. “Brooke, meet your new sister-in-law, Christy. She kind of hates me, but we got really fucked up in Vegas, and now she’s Mrs. Carrington.”
Both girls stared at me with their mouths hanging open, but it was Brooke who spoke first, jabbing me in the arm.
“Ow.” I rubbed my bicep that now burned. It didn’t exactly hurt, but the girl knew how to pinch me in the right spot to leave a mark.
A horn honked behind us, and Brooke glared at me before putting her sunglasses down and pulling out from the curb. “Please tell me this is just you being a little shit.”
Her gaze followed to the rearview mirror, peering at the girl in the back.
“I wish it was,” Christy muttered.
“What the fuck, Clay? First off, that’s something you only hear about in movies and romance novels, and second, I’m definitely using that in my next book.”
I shook my head, wishing I hadn’t smoked the last joint I bought from some Colorado Cowboy before we got on the plane. I was too cheap to spend twenty on a pack of cigarettes at the airport, and those things can kill ya. At least weed was natural. “Sometimes the magic of Vegas just happens.”
Christy poked her head between the front two seats. “There’s nothing magic about one of Clay’s skeevy friends putting drugs in an Advil bottle.”
My jaw clenched as I slowly turned toward the glaring girl. “Maybe you should have just stayed in your room. Or, I don’t know, if my friend was so skeevy, then why did you even ask her for something for a headache?”
She sucked in her cheeks as though she was tasting a slice of lemon. “Stay in my room while you went nuts in Vegas? I don’t think so.”
Brooke laughed. “You two already sound like an old married couple. When do we tell Mom? Do I still have to get y’all a wedding gift, or since that already happened, am I okay to check out on that one? I still have to get one for Lia. Probably just Amazon that, though.”
I turned to face the back seat, the smile broadening on my face. “Hear that, babe? Lia is getting married soon. Maybe I’ll talk to her brothers, and we could do a joint reception or wedding shower. You know since I’m not sure we had a real first dance and such in Vegas. I was too fucked up to really remember, but I’m sure your parents would let us use the ranch for a big ole reception.”
“You are unbelievable,” she quipped.
Brooke nodded behind me. “Your new wife is going to beat you, and I wouldn’t blame her. But I hope you two got some sort of legal advice. You would think there would be some law or clause written for these types of things in Sin City.”
She grabbed her phone as if it was the most natural thing in the world, pressing a button and spoke into the bottom of the device. “Research Vegas weddings and laws for an upcoming book. Title forthcoming. And plot. Maybe strippers.”
The whole thing would have been more odd if I hadn’t seen and heard her do it a dozen times. She had millions of sticky notes all over her car with “plot points” that she’d written down when she was at red lights, and half-filled notebooks were scattered all over her former bedroom.
“You can’t just use our lives in a book. What if people found out? No. No one can know this. Ever,” Christy stammered, shaking her head wildly, so some loose strands of hair fell around her face. I kept my hands on the armrest, resisting the urge to push them behind her ear and trail my fingers along her skin.
What the hell was this girl doing to me?
Brooke smiled softly, glancing in the rearview mirror. “No one will ever know it’s the two of you since the whole Vegas marriage thing is a common trope, but if you really don’t want me to, I won’t use it.”
“Thanks,” Christy muttered in reply, leaning back in her seat and leaving us in silence the rest of the way back to Friendship, Texas.
Chapter 6
Christy
Clothing shopping is much more fun when you’re high.
Something I never thought would actually ever go through my mind.
Though when you’re in a Las Vegas casino, and it’s one thirty in the morning, there aren’t many options for shopping.
Clay walked out of the dressing room in a button-down shirt and fitted trousers.
Damn.
I may or may not have always found the Mohawked bad boy attractive, but dressed up, he had me wanting to get him out of those clothes as soon as possible.
The way the shirt molded against his biceps and broad chest. Both, I knew, were adorned with tattoos and metal.
Why did I never notice there was so much metal through his body? Especially the piece below the belt. I wondered how he got a condom on that. Or would he use one after we were married?
Married.
This was crazy.
Or was it?
I liked him.
Maybe he liked me.
He could run the ranch like he wanted, my parents would get off my back, and I’d finally get to delve into the fantasies I hadn’t even told my best friend, Abbey, about.
“Are you going to come out or stare at me through the peephole all night?” his gruff voice called.
I quickly opened the door, hoping my face wasn’t beet red from all the heat that had gathered there.
Made of a soft lace material, the little white dress had a sweetheart neckline and little cap sleeves. If I was going for the dream wedding dress, I would have probably gone for something more fitted and maybe a padded bra, but this was the only white dress they had in the store.
Not that I needed anything white. I’d been with my fair share of guys, something not every girl admitted to. It was okay for men to be sluts, but if a girl went for what she wanted, she was a bitch. Something that a lot of my former friends liked to tell me I was.
And Clay.
But when Clay said it, he did it with a smile. Whatever banter I gave him, he would give it back with a wink and a grin that made my stomach flutter.
And now, in this poorly lit shop, his dark green eyes roamed from the top of my bare feet up to the little white dress, stopping at my wide brown eyes. My breath caught in my throat, feeling the heat of his expression.
Did he like it?
Did I care if he did?
“You still wanna do this?” he asked.
He held out his hand, and I stared at his rough knuckles from years of working on the ranch and in combat. They were so different from my freshly manicured ones, and something about that made me feel safe. Like even though my mind was still fuzzy and my tongue
tasted like rainbows, I knew this man would take care of me. For better and maybe for worse, he’d still like me even with all my faults.
Or at least tolerate me for the ranch.
I clasped his hand and forced a smile. “Let’s go to the chapel.”
Chapter 7
Clay
When we got to my place, Christy jumped out of the car as if it was on fire and wheeled her bag out of the trunk and up the driveway. She was on her phone, and I probably needed to stop her before she either tweeted to the world that I was an ass or called one of her family members who didn’t need to know where I lived.
Putting my hand on the door, I was stopped by Brooke’s voice before I could even unlock it. “You know, I would think that even in a fucked-up state, you wouldn’t marry a chick you supposedly hate. Maybe you have your reasons, like wanting a big payout, but I hope you realize how much that girl out there actually likes you. She’s the one who’s going to get hurt in the end.”
I turned, staring full-on at my sister. Swallowing hard, I tried to tamper down the little flutter at hearing her say Christy liked me.
What was I, a little girl with a crush?
Hell no.
I had to get that shit in check. “What are you even talking about?”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Please. You can’t tell me that you two haven’t been hate-flirting since the moment you started working at the ranch. I also know that since you were injured, you haven’t been the same guy. I know we’re not supposed to talk about your time in the Army or how much pot you smoke, but I’m bringing it up now.”
“You’re blabbering, and I don’t have time for this,” I muttered, pulling on the door, only to find it still locked. She was right. I didn’t want to discuss my time in the Army or how with a stupid accident, I had a pin in my leg and found myself discharged with nothing but a job at a local event center with horses. Christy could be my payday at the end of all this, but when I thought about the end, that was when the guilt lurched deep in my gut, and I had to clamp down those feelings.