“I want to see you tonight. Say ‘wedding night,’” he said as they came to a stop next to her car, giving her a genuine smile.
“I was planning on meeting Eve and my other girlfriends for a drink, to tell them our wonderful news.”
Sarcasm wasn’t a good look for her. It suited Eve more so than Shawn.
“Oh, yeah? Where at?”
“That Mexican place on 150.” Then she got suspicious. “Why?”
“Just being polite, and trying not to be jealous of your friends,” he told her, striving for casual. She didn’t need to know that he was just as tenacious as she was. She didn’t know that he had no intention of letting her walk away that easily. He dropped the gift bag in her lap. “For you.”
Then he leaned forward and kissed her lightly. “My ring looks good on your finger,” he told her, then opened her car door for her. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Shawn frowned. Her mouth worked, like she was going to say something, but then stopped herself. “Okay. Have a good night.”
“I intend to.”
• • •
SHAWN let Rhett slam her door shut as she turned the ignition to her car. Then he waved and walked away. Her husband. He walked away. Which was what she had wanted him to do, but now that he did, she suddenly felt discontent.
They had gone through with it. They’d gotten married, and she had a whole year to save the track from financial decay. A whole year to be married to Rhett Ford and have his green eyes boring into her on a daily basis.
She had to be totally and completely insane.
The ring on her finger felt foreign and monumental, a total Frodo moment, like it might change her forever. It wasn’t an epic Lord of the Rings journey, but it felt damn close enough to her. It was marriage and she had just defiled the institution by marrying for all the wrong reasons. The right reasons to her, but the wrong reasons in general.
She peeled back the tissue paper stuffed in the gift bag and promptly jammed it back in once she saw what was under it. Red lace. It was underwear of some kind, though she was choosing not to look too closely at the moment.
Her head hurt and she wanted a drink as big as her kitchen sink.
Instead, she took an Advil PM and took a nap before she had to face the book club girls at seven. Probably not how most women would spend the afternoon after tying the knot, but it worked for her.
By the time she arrived and ordered her first margarita, she felt more calm and in control. Capable of faking it.
“So what is this big news you texted us about?” Charity asked immediately as she peeled off her coat and plunked down in the seat next to Eve, across from Shawn. “I’m dying of curiosity.”
“Thank God, you two are finally here,” Eve said. “She wouldn’t tell me until you got here.”
Shawn sipped her margarita and wished she could tell them the truth about the situation. But Eve had a mouth the size of Texas and Rhett was her brother-in-law. She wasn’t going to approve of their motives for marriage, nor was she going to be able to keep it a secret. Her tirade would be heard in three counties. Charity was a gossiper, and she couldn’t be trusted either. Harley could keep a secret, but she would worry and end up with an ulcer tearing through her stomach lining. Shawn couldn’t do that to her.
This was her secret. Hers and Rhett’s.
So she had to be convincing.
“Obviously, you know that Rhett Ford is the guy we saw at the bar last weekend and that he asked Eve about me?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Eve said dryly. “Did you give him the go-ahead to call you or whatever?”
“Not exactly. He showed up at the track on Monday.”
“What?” Eve pushed her caramel hair back off her forehead and reached for a chip to dip in guacamole. “What a little shit! I told him it was your call. But he is kind of aggressive that way.”
“Oh, he’s definitely aggressive,” Shawn said, her cheeks heating up as she thought about what she could be doing tonight if she had just agreed to see him. But there was a principle at stake here. He wasn’t the boss of her. How mature did that sound? She mentally eye-rolled herself. “We’ve been, uh, spending a lot of time together.”
Not true, but it was the only way to explain what she was about to say next. Which she had purposely chosen to announce in public so that Eve couldn’t swear at the top of her lungs.
Eve’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
“I do,” Charity stated emphatically, leaning forward on the table.
Harley, seated next to Shawn turned and gave her a concerned look. “What is it you’re trying to tell us, Shawn? Did he hurt you in some way?”
“What? No, of course not.” Not yet anyway.
No. Never. She was not going to get hurt. If she got hurt, it was her own damn fault, not Rhett’s. She was the one who had coerced him into this ridiculous farce. Actually, if she got hurt it was her grandfather’s fault for setting up this bullshit game of emotions in the first place.
“We got married today. Isn’t that awesome?” Ba-dum-bum. She felt like a bad comic.
Three faces stared at her in complete silence and shock. The busy restaurant bustled around them, and they looked like they had been frozen in place by a witch’s spell. A tortilla chip was actually dangling from Charity’s lip, her mouth gaping open.
Any second now, Shawn would be hearing crickets.
“Isn’t anyone going to say anything?” she asked, when it became apparent they were not.
Eve exploded. “What? You cannot be serious! You just met him! Are you insane?”
Oh, yeah, she was, but Eve had no room to talk. Shawn had an ace up her sleeve, and Eve had dealt it to her. “How long were you dating Nolan before you got hitched in Vegas?”
That really had been insane, because Eve and Nolan had gotten married spontaneously without a legal contract, unlike her current situation. So who was the crazy lady here, huh? It made Shawn feel a whole lot better.
“That is not the same thing,” Eve said indignantly. “I knew Nolan for two years before we started dating.”
Shawn snorted. “You probably said hello to him in passing once a week. You did not know him at all. You just happened to know who he was.”
“What . . . how . . . ?” Harley sputtered and reached for her wineglass. “What prompted you to go get married today, a Friday, in the afternoon? I mean, are you in love with him? You must be, right?”