The Marriage Contract

by Rose Wulf

  If it could always be like this … it might be okay.

  “Here you go,” Batson said, setting a plate of steaming, delicious-smelling food beside the cup of coffee she hadn’t yet touched. He set his own plate across from her, next to his cup, and claimed his seat.

  “This looks amazing,” she said honestly. “I can’t believe how hungry I am.”

  Batson had two fingers curled around the handle of his cup when he paused and lifted a brow in her direction. “You don’t want me to comment on that, do you?”

  “Huh?” Ophelia flushed. “No, I do not.” She ducked her face in an effort to hide the stupid, strangely juvenile grin threatening her lips. This morning felt … different, somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Perhaps she was just in a particularly good mood.

  He chuckled and for a moment, they focused on the meal and each other’s company. He was half done with his breakfast before he quietly said, “So, I was thinking of heading up the mountain for the weekend.”

  Ophelia paused in the process of cutting through egg. “Oh?” He didn’t usually camp this time of year. But if it was just a weekend trip, it wouldn’t be too big of a deal with his job—she imagined his parents wouldn’t put up a fuss over short notice.

  Batson lifted his gaze from his plate. “It’d be better with some company.”

  Oh. She lowered her fork as a sharp stinging pain shot through her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I promised Alice I’d be around if she needed me.” Ophelia swallowed as the bigger reason reared its ugly head. “Besides, there’s … the rule.”

  A harsh rush of air escaped him and Batson sat back in his chair. “Who would fucking know? It’s not like I report in about everything we do, and I know you don’t, either.”

  Sure, he was probably right. On some level, she’d known that for a long time. But… “We signed the contract, Batson.”

  His fists clenched over the table. “Screw the goddamn contract,” he said tightly.

  Ophelia looked up at him with widened eyes.

  He exhaled again and looked away. “Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, if it’s that big a deal, we could cheat a little. Tomorrow night, I could sleep on the ground. Hell, I could sleep in my damn scales if it’ll make you feel better.”

  She cringed at the thought. It hadn’t taken her long at all to figure out how much he disliked his alternate form. Every nature being had one and his, as his race implied, was a literal salamander. Well, it looked like a normal salamander. They could still breathe fire. That’s beside the point. “I would never ask you to do that.”

  “I wouldn’t fucking care,” he said. “You’d have the airbed all to yourself. Bullshit obligation met.”

  Her lips twitched despite the conversation. “We both know that’s not quite what it means.”

  “Who gives a crap what it means?” he returned. “There’s no small print, no subtitles, no layman’s translation.”

  She bit her lips and lowered her gaze. They’d argued over the contract sporadically before but never in the sense of trying to get around it. More in an almost desperate need to blame someone else for why, exactly, they’d let it get to this point in the first place. This argument was different. Everything felt different. She didn’t know how to handle it.

  “Shit,” Batson muttered. “Lia, don’t cry.” His chair scraped back. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m not mad at you.” He knelt beside her and rested a hand on her thigh, beneath the robe. “I’m mad, yeah, but not at you.”

  Ophelia drew a breath and met his searching stare. She tried for a small smile. “I’m … confused,” she admitted. “Every time I think I understand things, it feels like something changes.” She reached out and slipped her fingers into his hair. She didn’t know why, but she loved his hair. It was surprisingly soft and cool, the complete opposite of the rest of him. “That’s not always a bad thing, it’s just, I don’t always know what to do about it.”

  He frowned and pulled her to her feet, into his arms, shoving her robe behind her as he held her close. “You’re definitely not coming, huh?” He phrased it like a question, but the defeat in his voice assured her he knew the answer.

  She wound her arms around his torso. “Contract aside,” she whispered, “I made a promise to Alice.”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, “that’s why I wasn’t originally gonna ask.”

  Ophelia smiled into his skin. “I forgot to thank you, by the way. For driving her yesterday.”

  He grunted. “I only did it ’cause I knew you’d be pissed otherwise.”

  She giggled and leaned back, keeping her hands clasped behind him. “You’re becoming observant in your old age, Mr. Crosse.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Shut up and finish your breakfast, woman,” he grunted before releasing her and spinning her back toward the table.

  She rolled her eyes at him and obligingly took her seat.

  She was two more mouthfuls into her meal when he casually said, “By the way, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to quit with the hair-dying crap.”

  “Eh?” On reflex, Ophelia reached down and pulled a few locks of hair into her line of sight. Shimmering silver gleamed back at her, as if laughing under the kitchen light. She’d already forgotten she still needed to dye it! She would have smacked her face with the heel of her hand if her other hand weren’t holding a fork. “I forgot I need to re-dye it.”

  “I keep telling you to stop,” Batson said, stabbing some potato onto his fork. “Humans dye their hair all sorts of weird colors. Anyone would believe you do, too.”

  “Like you and your supposed contacts?” Ophelia returned teasingly before scooping up her final bite of food.

  “Hasn’t been an issue,” he said. “The natural silver’s definitely hotter.”

  She managed not to choke on her coffee. “That is hardly a reason for a choice like that!”

  He smirked at her. “Isn’t it?”

  “It is not,” she said. She took a drink of her coffee, as if doing so won her the argument. He only laughed.

  Chapter Five

  “Screw the goddamn contract.”

  What did he mean by that? Hours later, Ophelia couldn’t help replaying the conversation in her head. She ought to have been focused on Alice, since the two were out, taking in the good weather, trying to enjoy the day. But a part of her brain couldn’t stop obsessing over the conversation she’d had with Batson that morning. Had he simply been trying to get her to go with him for the weekend? Was he only referring to the portion—or perhaps portions—they’d be breaking if she’d agreed? Was she thinking too hard about it all?

  She couldn’t deny it was possible. It was possible all he meant was that he wanted her company for more than the one more night they were allotted. Possible, but something in her gut refused to accept that was the answer. Something inside whispered there was more. That was what she couldn’t let go of. If there was more, then what was it?

  Gods forbid he meant the entire thing…? No. No, of course not. If he had, he wouldn’t have invited her into his bed the night before. Let alone asked her on a trip after making her breakfast. He couldn’t have meant that. It had to be something different, then.

  “—make me dump my precious macchiato on you.”

  Ophelia blinked, the threat—or at least the latter half of it—cutting through her distracted thoughts. “What?” She looked to Alice, finding her friend staring at her with a raised eyebrow and scrunched lips. “Wow, I’m sorry. I totally spaced out there!”

  “Uh, yeah,” Alice said, her face relaxing. She brought her aforementioned iced concoction up and caught the straw with her teeth. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” Ophelia replied. “I guess I’m just feeling distracted today. So, now that you have your coffee, what are we doing next?” Today was supposed to be about Alice, and it definitely, absolutely, could not be about her, so she needed to shove those pondering questions to the back of her mind. At least until she was locke
d up in her house and had the necessary privacy. In the meantime, she turned her gaze outward, the coffee shop behind them.

  “Hmm.” Alice sucked on her drink. “Is there anything good in theaters?” She didn’t even pause long enough for Ophelia to reach for her purse—and her phone—before waving her free hand dismissively. “Scratch that. We’ve watched two movies this week. Let’s do something different. In the meantime, we walk!”

  Ophelia could only smile as Alice promptly took an exaggeratedly large, marching step forward. She quickly caught up to her friend and together, they started toward the heart of downtown. “It’s been forever since we just walked through downtown,” Ophelia said. “I don’t think I even know what’s here anymore.”

  “You know what? Me, either,” Alice commented with a short laugh. “Hey, you want to see if that ice cream place is still there? I don’t think it was far from here.”

  “I’ve got my walking flats on,” Ophelia replied. They veered left at the first crosswalk and chatted about old memories as they made their way in the direction of the shop they’d once frequented in high school. It was strange to see new stores crowded in between ages-old, established stores, and amusing to see what varieties each block revealed. What Ophelia wasn’t prepared for was a newly familiar face to be walking in their direction when they rounded the final corner between them and their destination. “Oh, my gosh,” she exclaimed, interrupting whatever Alice was saying.

  Alice immediately cut herself off and looked over. “What?”

  Ophelia turned entirely sideways and tugged Alice a little out of the walkway, in an effort to make it look like they’d intended to stop and chat. Keeping her voice low, she whispered, “The man who just left the ice cream shop, with the blond hair, that’s him. That’s Keith Butler!”

  Alice’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Only as her head whipped around in a blatant attempt to get a look at the man in question did it occur to Ophelia that pointing him out may, actually, have been the wrong course of action.

  “Don’t stare!” Ophelia hissed.

  Alice looked forward obligingly, brought her drink to her lips, took a sip, and loudly asked, “Hey, Ophelia, how’s Grandma Yvette’s house-hunt going?”

  Ophelia gaped at her best friend, utterly betrayed. What is she doing? Her jaw twitched as she tried to figure out what to say next. It was too late.

  “Ophelia?”

  Maybe it would be worth the media hype if I just vanished, right here, right now, out in the open… Steeling herself, Ophelia slid her gaze to the side, past Alice, and did her best to look surprised. “Keith, hi,” she said, also making sure to downplay her excitement. “What a surprise.”

  Alice shifted a bit, making room for him to step up to talk to them if he wanted to without being rude. Which, of course, he did. It was practically two against one, and all of a sudden, Ophelia realized that in her rush to grab Alice and hide, she’d pinned herself to a wall. Almost literally.

  For a fleeting second, she wished she could hope Batson would just happen to walk down the street and just happen to bump into Keith and just happen to say something offensive to pull him away from her. But Batson was probably already making camp by now. That would definitely not be happening. In reality, it rarely did.

  “I’m Alice,” Alice said, sticking her free hand out to Keith. “Ophelia’s best friend. Are you the Keith who showed that house to her and Grandma Yvette yesterday?”

  Merging with the natural breeze and blowing away, however, sounded more and more appealing.

  Keith smiled and shook her hand. “I am,” he said. “Unless there was a second one after.”

  Alice laughed. “Not that I heard about!”

  Ophelia wanted to throttle her just a little bit. Instead, she cleared her throat. “It’s great to see you, Keith,” she lied, a whole different kind of awkward overtaking her. “How are you?”

  He returned his smile to her. She felt a little bad at the sight of it. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. “I’m good,” he said. He held up his single-scoop cone. “Just treating myself to a guilty pleasure. I’ve been going to that place since I was a kid.”

  “Really?” Alice asked. “Us, too. We were just headed there now.”

  Keith glanced at Alice as she spoke before returning his attention to Ophelia. “I didn’t get the chance to ask before, are you local?”

  “Yes,” Ophelia replied. There was no sense in not answering. She’d only make herself look like an ass. “We both are.”

  “Hey!” Alice said, as if struck by a great idea. The gleam in her eyes assured Ophelia their opinion of this idea would not be mutual. “How about I get us the ice cream while you two chat?”

  Really? “But, I don’t know what I—”

  Alice interrupted her with a casual wave, already moving. “Relax, Ophelia, I know you. Trust me!” It’d been decided, quite without her consent.

  A constant theme in her life.

  Ophelia scowled at the unwelcome thought and gave her head a small shake. This situation in no way compared to the other. Be respectful, Ophelia. She returned her attention to Keith with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “Sometimes Alice is a little insistent. I’m sure you have things to do.”

  “Not really,” he said, sticking his free hand in his jeans pocket. “Mom’s handling the house today, so I’m off the hook.” He grinned. “Although, I’d make an exception if you asked nice.”

  She fought to keep her smile in place. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she said. “At the very least, Grandma’s not in town today.” What she was supposed to say at this point? She didn’t know how to make small talk with men who flirted with her!

  Keith chuckled, and two thoughts struck her simultaneously. The first being that he had a nice voice. It wasn’t terribly deep or filled with any kind of rasp, but it was still decidedly masculine. Strong, she decided, was a good word for it. The second thought was that while his voice was nice, it wasn’t as appealing as Batson’s.

  It had never occurred to her before that a person could have a “type” for a voice as well as for a body or a personality.

  “Forgive me if this is too forward,” Keith said, “but in all honesty, Ophelia, I couldn’t stop thinking about you yesterday. Do you think I could borrow some of your time this weekend? Maybe we could get to know each other?”

  Her mouth probably fell open as the blood rushed from her face. That was … incredibly bold. It wasn’t actually rude, in some ways she couldn’t fault him for it, but she definitely needed to find a way to refuse him. Politely and succinctly. She drew a breath to do exactly that when her purse started singing. More accurately, the phone inside her purse. “Ah, excuse me,” she mumbled, quickly fishing the device from the interior pocket which held it and swiping the screen. She was far from reassured at the sight of her grandmother’s picture looking up at her. “Hi, Grandma.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m glad I caught you,” Yvette said. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

  “Oh, no, I’m just out with Alice.” No way in hell was Ophelia going to mention that Keith was standing less than her full arm’s reach away. “What did you need?”

  “I was just thinking some more about those houses we looked at yesterday,” her grandmother replied. “I know we only saw two outside of pictures, but that first one really spoke to me. It was just so cute. I could really see myself there, don’t you think?”

  Ophelia offered an awkward, apologetic smile to Keith in hopes he’d take the hint—at least for the time being—and said, “It did have better potential than the second one.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Grandma Yvette said quickly. “I was thinking maybe we should look at it again. I took some measurements of the furniture I want to keep, of course, and it’ll be important to know that everything fits.”

  “That’s definitely important,” Ophelia agreed, nodding absently. “Why don’t you set it up and let me know—”

  “Couldn’t yo
u call that handsome young man for me?” Grandma asked, deliberately talking over her. “You’re the one with the part-time job. I’m old, I’m retired, I have all the time in the world. Set it up for whenever works for you, as early as tomorrow.”

  Why is she putting me in this position? “Grandma,” Ophelia started, working herself up to a firm response.

  Yvette didn’t give her the chance. “You’re such a dear!” And the line went dead.

  Ophelia felt her stomach fall to the floor. She tried not to make it obvious, but she had no idea what she was supposed to do. Her hand tightened around the phone, her heart thundering in her ears. None of this would be happening if I’d just gone camping with Batson.

  “Is she making headway on her search?” Keith asked curiously.

  Returning her phone to her purse on autopilot, Ophelia plastered on her fake smile and said, “Actually, she’s hoping to see your house again soon if it’s possible. She wants to measure some spaces to see if her furniture will fit.”

  Keith crumpled the wrapper that had previously been holding his ice cream cone and grinned. “Absolutely. Any time’s fine, really.” He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket. “Any preferences?”

  Gut clenching, Ophelia said, “Tomorrow would really be best for me. I go back to work on Monday.” She’d also rather get it over with and hopefully put Keith behind her that much sooner. “Grandma comes from about an hour away, so, late morning?”

  “I can do that, no problem,” Keith said, tapping away. “How’s eleven?”

  Slowly releasing a breath, Ophelia replied, “Perfect.”

  “Great.” His small, focused smile lifted and as he put his phone away, he added, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your girls’ day. See you tomorrow, Ophelia.”

  She all but slumped against the wall in relief after he walked away. It was horrible how nervous and awkward she became around him. What was worse, her two closest confidants were, for varying reasons, apparently determined to set her up with him. Alice was one thing, but her grandmother knew better!