MY VEGAS GROOM (The Greene Family #3)

Chapter 1

I roll over on the Egyptian cotton sheets and plush mattress, my bladder screaming to release the abundance of alcohol I must’ve drank last night. I assume that’s what happened, given the fact that my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth as if I ate a cotton ball.

I hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. I cannot believe Molly is up before me. I usually have to drag her out of bed.

Pulling the covers off of my body, I slide from the bed and tiptoe through the dark room. I trip on some clothes, but catch myself before I plummet to the floor. Seriously, what did we do last night?

I walk into the bathroom, thankful Molly’s chosen not to turn on the lights because my brain could not take it right now. Plus, I really don’t want to see what I look like.

Molly’s been my best friend since we were young and it’s not like I’ve never peed in front of her, so I drop my boxer shorts and sit on the toilet, groaning from the pounding in my head.

Molly’s suggestion of an impromptu girls’ trip to Las Vegas was a great idea. I needed to get out of our small town of Sunrise Bay. Especially since two of my stepbrothers have recently found love. Well, Adam’s was found again, but seriously, whoever thought that skeptic Cade would fall in love? Sure as hell not me, even if he has a soft side. Now all heads are turned in my direction because I’m the oldest daughter in the Greene family. Everyone thinks I should want a family and kids and all that s**t, and do I? Truth is, I don’t know. Having Jeff Greene as your dad has a way of f*****g you up where white picket fences are concerned.

Molly and I were having fun on our trip until she dragged me to that ridiculous MMA fight last night. We watched two men beat the crap out of each other for fun. I tried to humor her, but it’s barbaric.

Finally, I release my bladder and it feels so good. “How on Earth are you up this early in the morning?”

Molly doesn’t answer right away, but I hear the water turn off.

“I’m so hungover,” I say. “Please tell me you want to go grab a greasy breakfast downstairs?”

“Whatever you want,” a deep voice says.

Not the soft, giggly voice of my best friend.

I can’t even process that before the shower door opens and a naked man with tattoos sprinkled all over his body of bulging muscles steps out. I can make him out from the glow of the night light on the counter. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. Was he with Molly last night? Oh s**t, I shouldn’t be seeing him naked.

“I hope I didn’t wake you. I just had to get all that crap from last night off and a shower always makes me feel better.”

“I’m sorry, and you are?”

He chuckles. “Your husband, of course.”

He grabs a towel off of the rack next to the shower and wraps it around his waist, but I’m still sitting on the toilet, mouth agape, staring at him.

But I glance at my left hand and find a sizable rock there. Meaning he’s telling the truth. I am his wife. And now another Vegas statistic.

And I’m peeing in front of my new husband—who’s also a stranger. He must realize my shock and horror at the same time I do because he chuckles and repositions the towel around his waist while water drips down his chiseled abs and body made of steel. It’s only then that I notice some bruising on his rib cage and the side of his jaw.

“The fighter,” I whisper.

He winks.

He’s one of the fighters from last night. The guy who was beating the s**t out of the other guy in that ring. There was kicking and punching and blood everywhere. It was the goriest thing I’d ever witnessed, and I hated every second of it. But Molly loves MMA and managed to get last-minute tickets for us, so I wasn’t gonna disappoint her. Then again, I didn’t know she’d gotten front row seats. While she was cheering the whole time, I mostly sat in disbelief that people found amusement in watching someone get beaten to a bloody pulp.

“After watching you throw up last night, this is nothing.” He motions to where I’m still sitting on the toilet.

My face feels as if it’s beet red. I threw up in front of him and now I’m peeing in front of him? My God, what else did I do?

He doesn’t miss a beat, continuing on with the conversation. “So I got a call from my manager.”

“Manager?” At this point, I’m not sure if I should just stand up and assemble myself or continue to sit while he carries on a conversation.

“Turns out we weren’t exactly discreet with our marriage vows last night.” He turns on the light.

I squint as the feeling of being stabbed through both irises assaults me. I hurry up and wipe, flush, and pull up… his boxers and his T-shirt that I’m wearing. Great.

That means I’m in his hotel room. How the hell do I get to my own hotel room and escape this situation before things get worse?

He leans his hip against the bathroom counter, his toothbrush in his hand and squirting toothpaste on it. “I had the concierge bring us up some toiletries, you know, since you used my toothbrush last night.”

“I used your toothbrush?” The slight whine in my voice doesn’t surprise me. I’d like someone to lock me in a closet somewhere and not let me out until I agree to behave myself like my mom taught me.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s all good. I’m cool with it.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m glad my embarrassment doesn’t bother you, but it bothers me. Just so you know…”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Surprised me too when I woke up this morning and remembered, but you know…” He shrugs.

What is he talking about? There’s no way he’s considering staying married. He obviously married a very different Nikki Greene than the one he woke up to this morning.

“I think we need to talk about this. Maybe once you have some clothes on.” I wash my hands quickly because I cannot breathe in this sauna of a bathroom with him wearing a towel.

“It’s cool. We can talk like this.”

Sure, I’d be okay talking like that if I didn’t have an ounce of body fat on me too.

“I think we’ll wait because I’m… yeah… I just need to get some air.” I walk out of the bathroom.

A second later, he’s behind me with some remote control thing that opens all the curtains in the room to a view of the Vegas Strip in the daylight. I squint my eyes at the stabbing pain that assaults them from the light until I get used to it and then I gaze out the window.

The magnificent view is another clear sign that this is definitely not the room Molly and I booked. My friend and I are staying in a standard two double beds room, and this is a suite with living room couches and flat screens and a full bar. Where the hell is Molly and how did she let me get this far gone?

“I sense you might be freaking out?” he says.

I spot a picture of him and me with an Elvis impersonator between us. Won’t Mom and Dad be proud? I can’t even imagine what my dad would say. Then again, I don’t really care. I hate that asshole anyway.

In the picture, I’m wearing a white gown that looks too small and he’s wearing a blue tuxedo jacket. We’re both smiling and clearly drunk. Isn’t that illegal?

I pick up the picture. “You were serious about the whole marriage thing.”

“Yep, we’re married.”

“Can we get an annulment?” I look at him.

His expression falls like someone who bet their last dollar at the slots and spun garbage. “Well, clearly we got married on a whim.”

Okay, so he does have some reservations about this whole thing. Good.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine you’re happy about this.”

He shrugs.

What’s with the mixed signals?

“I don’t really believe in marriage,” I confess. I raise my hand as if I’m at an AA meeting. “Daddy issues.”

“You don’t believe in marriage?” He says it as though every girl dreams of marrying her soul mate someday. And maybe that’s true—until you find your dad cheating on your mom.

“No offense, but just looking at you, I’d say you’re not exactly the poster boy for marriage.”

His expression dims for a split second before he grins. “Don’t let the exterior fool you. I have a beating heart inside my chest and everything.”

I shake my head. This has got to be a dream. Tell me this is a dream. I want to pinch myself, but I’ve already embarrassed myself enough what with the peeing, throwing up, and using his toothbrush, and now I’m standing here in his underwear and T-shirt.

He’s still shirtless and sitting on the edge of the bed, his towel inching open farther and farther as his thighs part. Pretty soon I’ll see his package, but what does that matter? I’m sure we had s*x to consummate our marriage last night.

He laughs as though he can hear the hamster wheel in my head.

I bury my head in my hands and groan.

“It’s all good,” he says.

“It’s all good?” I clench my fists at my sides. “I don’t marry strangers. I sure as hell don’t marry people who think it’s fun to beat the crap out of people for a living.”

“I don’t think we should discuss my profession at this point.”

He’s so calm, I want to scream and see if that grabs his attention.

“You must have people who handle these things?”

He tilts his head. “People?”

“Someone who can manage us ending this.”

“You’re serious? Don’t you think there’s a reason why you married me?”

“I think the reason is tequila. That, and you looking the way you do. I probably thought you just wanted to have a good time.”

He finally stands and, Jesus, that towel is barely hanging on.

“I mean, we’re strangers,” I add. “We got drunk and got married. It’s ridiculous and we need to end it.”

Based on his expression, I offended him in some kind of way. How can he not be on the same page as me? Surely he has more to lose than I do. He has a high-profile career, his reputation, and his money.

He says, “I need to go down and see my manager. He wants to talk about this marriage thing. Do you wanna come?”

We clearly have different views on what needs to happen next. I need to get him out of this room so I can leave, meet up with Molly, and we can head back home to Alaska. Hopefully this will all just go away like waking up from a nightmare.

“No, I think I’m gonna shower and get ready.” I try to keep my voice even and not give my thoughts away.

“I’ll bring you back some coffee. How do you like your coffee, by the way? I should know this, given that you’re my wife, but I promise you’ll only have to tell me once and I’ll remember forever.” He grins at me, and oh yeah. I see exactly why I might’ve thought getting married on a whim to this good guy was a good idea.

“Black and one sugar.”

“Great. I’ll be back soon.”

He puts on a pair of low-slung jeans, a T-shirt, slides, and a sweatshirt. I could’ve married much worse. The man is an Adonis. He doesn’t bother styling his hair that’s blonder at the tips or shaving.

He walks toward me as if he’s actually going to kiss me goodbye, but he stops short—probably from the look of shock and horror on my face. “I’m gonna give you some time to let this all sink in. I’ll be back with some coffee and pastries and we’ll talk some more.”

“All right.”

“Don’t go anywhere.” He cracks a smile. It’s a great smile for a guy who’s probably had his teeth knocked out more than once.

“I won’t go anywhere.” I cross my fingers behind my back.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a little bit.” He’s out the door, and I finally release the breath it feels as if I’ve been holding the entire morning.

I sink into a chair, my limbs weak, as panic really sets in.

I married a complete stranger. Well, maybe not a complete stranger. Molly probably knows every fact and statistic there is to know about his fights. And my brothers were super excited when we told them we were going to the fight, so they probably know about him too. But to me, Logan Stone is a stranger. I don’t know anything about him except for one small thing—he’s my husband.