He looked at me. “We’ll get an annulment when this is over.”
I tried to smile even though his comment hurt. “Sure,” I said, but I was going to use this time to convince him to give me a chance. We could be good together. I was so sure of it, even though I knew that, rationally, I had no proof of that. It was possible I was carrying a teenage crush too far. But I didn’t think so.
“It’s settled, then,” my father said. “I can’t tell you what this means to me, Mo. I owe you. Brooke and I do.”
I smiled at Mo, hoping I’d have the chance to pay back his kindness and generosity.
9
Maurice
I’d gone fucking mad. That was the only explanation for agreeing to this hair-brained scheme. Did I really want to keep Stark from being my neighbor bad enough to marry the daughter of my best friend, who I inappropriately touched when she was eighteen and still fantasized about? Jesus, I was going to hell for sure.
The fact that Frank agreed to it was equally as crazy. I supposed it showed just how desperate we all were. Even Brooke was sacrificing whatever social life she had to play Mrs. Valentine. Well, not play my wife, because while we’d be married, we had to keep the whole thing a secret. She worked for me, for one. Two, I didn’t need the backlash that would come from marrying a girl nearly half my age. I wasn’t going to run for mayor again, but I didn’t need the city council or others to dismiss my work until I left office because they thought I was a middle-aged cliché.
By the next morning, I’d talked myself out of this plan, only to be back in it when Brooke and Frank showed up at my place, ready to drive to Watley county. As it turned out, it was a good place for a quick marriage, as there was no waiting period from the time of obtaining a marriage license to getting married.
I was concerned about having a judge marry us, as it could get out that I was the mayor of Salvation. Brooke found a minister from a small country church who was willing to marry us. That’s how I ended up standing at the altar of the tiny church that looked like it came out of a Little House on the Prairie episode with Brooke and her father, getting married for a second time.
As the minister went through the script, I couldn’t help but wonder where my life had gone so off the rails. I’d married a woman I’d thought I’d spend my life with, who ended up walking away because I wasn’t enough for her. Now I was getting married to my best friend’s daughter so I could save their farm and keep Stark out of my business. If this was written in a book, no one would buy it, and yet, here I was.
The worst part of all this was the fact that I might be an old man standing next to a too-young woman, but my masculine hormones didn’t give a shit. The minute I saw Brooke in her lovely ivory-colored dress that highlighted her curves, the man in me imagined pushing the sleeves of that dress down, and it pooling at her feet. Her blonde hair was done up in a soft updo that my fingers longed to pull the pins from and run through.
As she stood next to me, her scent, a mixture of sunshine and jasmine, filled my senses. I was well and truly fucked.
“Do you, Maurice Valentine, take this woman, Brooke Campbell, to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the minister asked. I was making a vow to love and honor until death did we part. I felt like a fucking fake. This was all wrong. She deserved better than a middle-aged man and fake vows. I’d have to do what I could to make her as comfortable as possible in my home.
“I do.” My stomach rolled over, and I felt sick about what I was having her do.
“Do you, Brooke Campbell, take this man, Maurice Valentine, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the minister asked her.
She looked up at me with those beautiful, round, blue eyes. In them, I saw trust and admiration that I didn’t deserve. “I do.” She smiled, and my heart lurched in my chest.
Her father gave her her mother’s ring to wear, which seemed wrong on so many levels. They both loved Laura so much. This fake marriage sullied the ring. I opted not to wear one, and I had concerns about Brooke wearing one once we returned to Salvation.
“It’s just for the image,” she’d said. “I won’t wear it to work.”
As the ceremony finished, the minister said, “You may kiss the bride.”
I looked down at her, remembering the last time I tried to kiss her on the cheek. It didn’t seem likely that she’d pull the same stunt this time. Not with her father watching. A part of me was disappointed about that, which only highlighted how fucked up this whole thing was.
I leaned forward, kissing her on the cheek.
“Congratulations,” her father said, shaking my hand.
I tried to smile so that the minister didn’t get a whiff of how fake all this was. I just made vows I didn’t mean in a church, giving me yet another reason I was destined to go to hell.
We drove together back to Salvation. Brooke and her father chatted while I focused on the road, feeling unsettled by all this. Was what I was about to do a crime? Would Aunt Adele be disappointed in me? Yes, of course she would.
“You okay over there?” Frank asked from the back seat of my car.
“Just being reflective.”
“You thinking back to your last wedding? That was a big ta-do.”
Next to me, Brooke flinched. Under normal circumstances, talking about your first wife with the second one on your wedding day didn’t seem couth.
“No.”
“Having second thoughts?” Brooke asked.
I glanced at her and then back to the road. “A little late for that now.” After it was out, I realized it was a mean thing to say. “No. No second thoughts,” I lied.
“What happens next?” Frank asked.
“We’ll stop by Jeannette’s office. She’ll have the paperwork for us. It will be another day or so before we get the money…half the money, anyway.”
“Half?” Brooke asked.
“Yes, but it will be enough,” I said, taking the exit off the highway to drive into Salvation.
“Why only half?” Frank asked.
“Half now, half after a year of marriage or the birth of a child.” I looked at Frank through the rear-view mirror.
“What happens if you’re not married a year or have a child? Do you have to forfeit the second half?” Brooke asked.
I shrugged.
“Oh, jeez. Oh God, Mo, why didn’t you say anything?” Frank asked, aghast.
“It’s not a big deal.” I nearly choked on the words, because as it turned out, it was a significant amount of money. But I reminded myself that it was extra. I didn’t need it to live a life I enjoyed. It was the cost of keeping Stark out of my backyard.
“I can go a year,” Brooke said nonchalantly.
“That’s too much,” her father said. “Mo has his life to live.”
I had no life that Brooke was going to get in the way of. “Let’s just deal with this now.” I pulled into a parking spot near Jeannette’s law office.
Her smirk suggested that she knew what was going on. “The marriage certificate is valid. You do know you need to live together and be married a year?”
“Yes. I get half now, though, right?”
“Yes.” She looked from me to Brooke to Frank. “Do you suppose Adele would be pleased?”
I looked down, hating being called out.
“Adele would love my Brooke,” Frank said. “She loved Laura, and Brooke is just like her. Adele used to tell me she wished Mo would find a good woman like Laura. Now he has.”
I had to hand it to Frank, selling this marriage. I wondered if, on the inside, he felt weird. Like he was pimping his daughter off to his best friend. I shook my head. Nah, if he felt like that, he wouldn’t do this. In his mind, Brooke was a friend of the family. I’d be like a guardian, not a husband.
Jeannette nodded, but we weren’t fooling anyone. We’d already done a prenup, as Frank suggested. It felt weird doing it, and yet, this was a fake marriage, and I couldn’t risk Brooke getting my assets when we ended this. Not that she would, but Shelley
taught me that women could change. Today we dealt with the trust, and then Frank signed a contract to use his land as collateral for the money I’d give him.
“I can trust your discretion on all this?” I asked Jeannette.
“Client-attorney privilege. Of course, technically…” She let the statement fall away.
“I’m legally married.” The trust said nothing about marrying for love.
She nodded. “Yes, you are.”
Once the paperwork was done, we drove back to Frank’s to finish packing up Brooke’s stuff so she could move into my place.
The day I married Shelley, she and I flew to New York for a honeymoon. For the first twenty-four hours, we didn’t leave the bed. Today, I married again, but I was putting Brooke in the bedroom farthest from mine. And if I could keep my brain from imagining her in my home, in one of my beds, warm and sexy, I might survive this crazy scheme.
The deal was done. I’d have my money and be able to deal with Frank’s debts, so he could keep his land, and Stark wouldn’t be able to come near my land. All I had to do now was keep my hands off Brooke. I felt like I could do that. She seemed to be taking this arrangement as seriously and professionally as it needed to be taken. She was grown up now. She’d outgrown her young girl crush on me. At least, I hoped so. If she tried to seduce me again, I’d be in serious trouble.
10
Brooke
Over the years, I had a variety of fantasies around my wedding to Mo. Sometimes, I imagined a big fairy tale affair with a princess dress, lots of white and twinkle lights, and Mo in a full tux. Other times, I envisioned something more earthy and downhome along the river in a prairie dress, flowers in my long hair, and Mo in slacks and a loosely buttoned shirt. It was safe to say that the wedding I went through today wasn’t in any of my fantasies.
Still, for what it was, it was okay. Mo was sweet and gentle, even though I could see he was unsettled by it. I tried not to take it personally. Instead, I worked to focus on how much he was doing for my dad. He was marrying a woman he didn’t love to get money to save my family’s farm. Did I wish he had feelings for me? Yes, of course. The type of man who’d do so much, give so much, to help his friend was a worthy man. One I was proud to be married to, even if that part of the plan was the one thing he’d do without.
I packed up my clothes and a few trinkets while my dad and Mo went over the financials that my father needed help with to save the farm. When I finished, I headed down to the kitchen and raided the fridge. In a normal wedding, Mo and I would be having dinner out while on our honeymoon, but I was sure that wouldn’t happen. Still, it didn’t mean we couldn’t have a nice dinner. I’d show my appreciation for all he was doing by making him a nice dinner. Would that lead to something more? I wouldn’t mind it. As much as I tried to brush off my attraction as residual feelings from my teenage crush, the truth was, the more I was with him, the more I wanted him still. I couldn’t help but think it was wasted infatuation. Mo had been clear before that I was off-limits to him. Today, he’d made similar comments, still worried about the age difference and the fact that he was my dad’s friend.
I had two choices. I could use this time to show Mo how much I cared for him and how we could be together and risk being humiliated and have my heart broken, or I could just toe the line and go along with the idea that this was a temporary, fake marriage.
I found them in my dad’s study. “I’m packed.”
Mo flinched, and I sighed. I wasn’t a kid. And I wasn’t heinous. What was his problem?
“Mo and I need a little more time here,” my father said.
“Here’s my key. If you want to drive to my place and get settled without me, you can.” Mo handed me a key to his house. “I set up the back room for you.”
A few hours ago, I was saying, “I do,” and now I was being given a key to my new home to go to without my husband. But I took it.
“Don’t give Mo any trouble,” my father said as I turned to leave.
“I’m not eight, Dad. I know how to act.”
I felt tears come to my eyes for reasons I wasn’t quite sure of. Perhaps it was because he, too, saw me as a kid. It occurred to me that they both saw this situation as an adoption more than a marriage. Whether Mo liked me or not, I deserved to be treated like the adult I was.
“Yes, of course, honey. I just…well, I’m so grateful to you, Mo. I don’t want to put you out.”
I was the one having to pack up and move. If anyone should feel put out, it was me.
“Make yourself at home, Brooke,” Mo said with a friendly smile.
With a sigh, I headed out to my car. I loaded in my bags and the food and then drove the few minutes up the road to Mo’s. The house was far enough off the road that I didn’t worry about hiding my car from prying eyes. Mo was worried about people finding out that the mayor married a child bride, I thought with a roll of my eyes.
I used his key to enter the house. The first thing that struck me was the realization that the last time I’d been in Mo’s house, I actually had been a kid. Dad and I had gone over for dinner. Shelley had still been in Mo’s life. As I looked around the living area, I didn’t see any signs of her. I wondered if she took everything when she left, or if Mo got rid of it when she walked out. The home was clean and cozy, but definitely lacking a woman’s touch. There wasn’t much color or decoration.
I took the food items to the kitchen and put them away. Then, I carried my bags to the room I thought Mo had designated for me. Like the living room, it was clean and tidy but a bit sparse. I put my clothes away and set out my trinkets. Officially settled in, I went back to the kitchen and started dinner. I was an independent woman but didn’t have a problem with adopting some traditional roles. I’d been cooking dinner for my father for years by the time I left for college.
I turned on the music on my phone as I got to work in the warm, country kitchen. I decided on something fairly easy and tasty, pasta with pesto. I also made a salad and garlic bread. I was just about to worry that I’d be eating alone when I heard the front door open.
All of a sudden, my nerves lit up. Not that I was worried about what Mo would do. He wasn’t going to do anything, that I was sure of. But still, I was now married to a man I’d loved and admired for so long.
He appeared in the kitchen doorway. “That smells delicious.”
I smiled. “Good. It’s just about ready.”
He nodded. “Let me clean up.”
He looked cleaned up to me. He was still in the dark suit that made him look distinguished and handsome.
I served up the plates, found a bottle of wine, and set it all on the table.
“You know, you don’t have to cook for me. I don’t want you to feel indebted.”
“We just got married. It seemed like we should have a nice dinner,” I said.
His smile blanched slightly. I turned away, not wanting the reminder that he thought this was a big bad idea.
“I cook for Dad all the time. It’s no big deal, Mo.” My voice had a slight edge to it. I wondered if he noticed. I took the bread from the oven and served it as well.
He held my chair for me as I sat, and I hated how my heart melted at the gesture.
“I’m sorry if I’m making this awkward,” he said.
I shrugged.
“The truth is, it is awkward,” he said, sitting at the table.
“I don’t know why.” Of course, I did know, but maybe if I acted like it was no big deal, he’d relax.
He stared at me. “We never talked about…that holiday you were home.”
I poured myself some wine and handed him the bottle. “You ran off.”
He looked down. “I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about it all.”
“Careful, Mo, you’re going to make me feel inadequate.”
He frowned. “Inadequate?”
“A woman doesn’t like to hear that a man regrets having been with her.”
“It wasn’t you, Brooke.”
/>
I let out a small derisive laugh. “Right.”
“It wasn’t. You were…are beautiful, desirable.” He looked down and chastised himself under his breath. “But that’s the problem. It was wrong for me to look at you like that, much less...” He let the end of his sentence dangle as if he couldn’t bring himself to say that he’d touched me.
A part of me liked what he was saying because it sounded like he found me attractive, but he was also ashamed, and I didn’t like that.
I shrugged. “Well, thank goodness you ran off, then.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re upset.”
I shook my head. “I’m annoyed. I’m tired of being treated like a child. I wasn’t one then, and I’m not one now.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, Mo. Was I young and naïve and impulsive four years ago? Do I get that you aren’t that into me? Yes. I won’t make that mistake again. I’m here to help my father.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you then and now. It wasn’t my intention.”
“You don’t have to be so uptight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d hadn’t been laid since then. Then again, you didn’t get laid then, either. Do you have blue balls, Mo?” I was a bit mean, but I was hurt and annoyed at his attitude. Sure, he was trying to be gentle, but the more he tried to tell me how wrong it was and how sorry he was, the worse I felt.
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t need to worry about my balls, Brooke.”
I looked down at my pasta, feeling like the dumb girl he thought I was. Dammit, I was proving his point that I wasn’t mature enough for him.
“Well, while we’re married, I hope you’ll be able to keep it in your pants. This might be a fake marriage, but I won’t be cheated on.”
He sat back, staring at me like he didn’t know me. That made two of us because I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I suppose all my pent-up anger and hurt from four years ago was coming out.
Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 47