Chapter 2
1476 Words
CHAPTER 2
THUNKING MY HEAD back against the headboard only made it hurt more. Well, that was it—virginity gone. The most precious gift I’d had to give a man, and I didn’t remember a thing about handing it over. Surely if it had been painful, I’d have some recollection?
The man’s watch beeped, and he glanced at the screen.
“Hungry?” he asked.
My heart seized. “What time is it?”
“Nine thirty.”
“Oh, hell.”
I’d promised to meet Wade in the lobby at ten. We were due to have a fun-filled family breakfast before we headed for the airport. Our flight was scheduled to take off at ten past two, and my stepdaddy always insisted on being early for check-in.
I sprang out of bed, realising too late that I was as naked as the stranger. Yes, he might have seen it all already, but in the harsh light of day, awkwardness ruled. I snatched up the quilt and covered myself again.
“Could you stop looking? I need to get dressed.”
“Why the hurry?”
“I’m late for breakfast.”
“I’ve got something you could eat right here.”
Ugh. What a manwhore! I’d lost my damn marbles last night, hadn’t I?
“You’ve got a filthy mind.”
“It’s more fun than a clean one.”
“Well, I’m not interested in what you’re offering. Not anymore. And would you cover yourself up? It’s very distracting.”
“Darlin’, I’m pretty sure we saw everything there was to see last night. You might as well enjoy the view.”
I added arrogant to his list of attributes. But he was right—I couldn’t help sneaking another look, and from his lopsided grin, he saw me do it. I wanted to sink into the floor. How did other women do this? Have one-night stands, I mean. This was without a doubt the most awkward moment of my life, and with a family like mine, that was saying something.
“Please,” I begged.
“Only if you stop biting your lip. It’s doing bad things to me.”
I hadn’t noticed I was, but I sure stopped quickly. “Fine.”
He sighed and put a pillow over his lap. “You drive a hard bargain, lady.”
I gripped the quilt with one hand, knuckles white as I threw my belongings haphazardly into my suitcase. Shoes, a novel, my hairbrush. Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror—flushed, with bruised lips and hair the size of Texas. I retrieved the brush and put it on the dressing table. Right next to... What was that?
I picked up a photo of the mystery man and me, stuffed wonkily into a cardboard frame. It could only have been taken last night. I looked far happier in the photo than I felt now. Maybe that was because of the flowers? I loved roses, and I was holding a huge bouquet of them. Where were they now? I couldn’t see any sign of them in my bedroom. Had Elvis kept them? He was standing in the background of the picture in a shiny white suit.
Oh, what did it matter? I had more important things to worry about than a bunch of damn flowers. Like getting to breakfast.
Or so I thought. When I dropped the frame back onto the table, I caught sight of the piece of paper underneath. Pale cream, with State of Nevada emblazoned across the top. Right above the words Marriage Certificate. My stomach lurched halfway up my throat as I read the small print.
This is to certify that the Reverend Elvis Priestly did on the 15th day of June at The Little Chapel of the Flowers, Las Vegas, Nevada, join in lawful wedlock Jared Harker of Richmond, Virginia and Francesca Lane of Galveston, Texas... I couldn’t read any farther.
I turned to the blond guy, whose eyes had dropped to my ass. “Is your name Jared Harker?”
“Sure is. I thought you didn’t remember anything about last night?”
“I don’t.” Beads of sweat popped out on my forehead as I waved the certificate at him. “I certainly don’t remember getting married, do you?” My voice rang in my ears, high enough to attract passing dogs.
His face paled a few shades. “You’re kidding, right?”
I sat down hard on the stool next to the dressing table. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. There’s a marriage certificate here and a photo of us with Reverend Elvis.”
Jared leapt out of bed, forgetting the pillow. This time, I barely noticed his goods, not when my world had just caved in.
He grabbed the paper out of my hands and skimmed down it. “And I take it you’re Francesca Lane?”
“That’s me.”
He swore under his breath and grabbed my left hand. A thin silver band twinkled in the sun. How had I not noticed that before? I peered at the fingers wrapped around mine. Sure enough, there was a matching ring.
Jared stared for a few seconds and lost the last of his colour. “I’ll make some calls. This has to be a joke.”
“Okay,” I whispered, although I had an awful suspicion it wasn’t a prank. The certificate was signed, numbered and had a seal for Clark County, Nevada in the bottom left-hand corner.
Jared fished a phone out of a pair of jeans lying on the floor and punched in a number. At least I wasn’t the only one unhappy with the situation.
What on earth was I supposed to do? I was getting married in less than three weeks. My stepdaddy and Wade would make my life a living hell if they found out I’d accidentally gotten hitched to another man.
In front of me, Jared paced up and down the room, still naked as he muttered at somebody on the other end of the line. I’d gone numb, apart from my head, which felt like a freight train was doing a wall-of-death around the inside. I stumbled over to my purse in search of the painkillers I’d wanted earlier. That seemed so long ago now. It took me three goes to get the lid off the bottle, and I swallowed a handful without counting. Who cared about an overdose? Oblivion would be welcome.
Jared paused and covered the phone with his hand. “Don’t suppose I could have a couple of those?”
I handed him the bottle, and he tipped two tablets out into his hand, swallowed them dry, and resumed pacing. My eyes followed him unconsciously until I realised and forced myself to stop. He sure was pretty to look at, but he’d brought me a whole world of trouble.
After a couple of minutes, he tossed the phone down on the bed. “Right, I’ve got somebody checking whether this is a legal marriage. Apparently, we should have had a marriage licence first if it was. Do you remember getting one?”
I spotted another piece of paper on the floor, sticking out from under the dress I’d been wearing last night.
“You mean this marriage licence?”
He leaned over my shoulder and read the words I was trying to block out.
“Shit.”
His hair got even messier as he ran his fingers through it, and my throat went dry. I absolutely did not need to get distracted by his sexy-ass hair when we were in the midst of a disaster of epic proportions. Snap out of it, Chess.
“Now what do we do? Can’t we just cancel this?” I asked.
“Worst case scenario is that we need to get an annulment. I’ve got a lawyer looking into the process.”
An annulment? This was getting more complicated by the second. I put my throbbing head in my hands.
“How long do you think it’ll take? I’m supposed to be getting married next month.”
He stopped and stared at me. Heck, even when he was angry he looked hot.
“f**k me. You don’t do things by halves, do you? Without wanting to sound judgmental, why the hell did you sleep with me if you’ve already got a man?”
He didn’t want to sound judgmental? Yeah, right. I jumped up, past caring about my lack of clothes.
“It’s not as if I want to get married, okay? I hate my fiancé. I just don’t have a choice in the matter.”
Shouting made my head pound harder, but by that point I was in so much pain it didn’t make a difference. Jared took a step backwards as I jabbed him in the chest with my ring finger. “If you must know, I wanted my first time to be with someone other than my future husband, because I know he’s planning to make it hurt.”
Then the tears came. Why did I just tell Jared that? To all intents and purposes, he was a perfect stranger—emphasis on the perfect—albeit one I was now legally joined to until a lawyer worked a miracle, probably at the cost of thousands of dollars I didn’t have. I sat on the bed, drew my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around my legs. Maybe if I made myself small enough, this would all disappear. The room, the ring, Jared…
Perhaps if I wished hard enough, I could disappear too?
- Writer
