Inconveniently Matched (Leashed to Love #3)

Chapter 1

“Seriously, Grandma ?”

Incredulity tinges my voice as I stare at the impeccably put-together octogenarian sitting like a queen in an antique chair in my dad’s study. “This whole thing is absurd. Please, make it stop.”

“Oh, darling. I wish I could give your father the funds he needs to get himself out of this utter disaster, which, I might add, he created himself,” Mariam Jensen says, casting a sidelong glance at her son for good measure. My poor dad. Literally. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, red with embarrassment.

“Alas,” my grandmother continues, “I don’t have two pennies to my name, and I’m on the brink of foreclosure on Owl’s Cottage. I’ll probably need to put my pride aside and move in here.”

My mom, standing at the window with tissues in her hands, gasps in terror at her mother-in-law’s words and sobs harder. Great.

Also, Owl’s Cottage is hardly a cottage. It’s a sprawling ten-bedroom mansion that has been in the Jensen family for generations. My grandmother also owns three other properties—less extravagant but fully staffed. She’ll never be homeless.

I’m all for change, but this kind of downsizing would devastate my parents. Ugh.

“This is the only way, my darling,” my grandmother says. “Thus, I’ve made my decision. From the pool of candidates who so graciously agreed to have a pedigree Jensen bride, you will marry Wesley Manning, Dean Edwards, and Camden Nash. They’re good picks.”

Pedigree? Like I’m a racehorse or something. I roll my eyes. But yes, this is the sum of my fate. My great-grandmother left me a huge trust fund, but with conditions. I had to be married to a husband of her choosing for the trust fund to kick in.

But oh, not just any random guy. My great-grandmother made a crusade out of vetting influential families, then asking them if they would like to be added to the selection bowl for a husband for me. The Jensens are a renowned family, so the connection would be a great one. Also explains why my father is taking it so hard that he could be their ultimate downfall.

Ethel Jensen appraised fifteen families, and ten agreed to a union of marriage with a Jensen bride. If you ask me, my great-grandmother had too much money and time on her hands. When she died, she passed the responsibility on to her daughter—my grandmother—to oversee.

I’m twenty-three years old. I don’t even know if I want to get married, and I certainly never wanted to marry for money. If I fell in love with someone who was not on my great-grandmother’s list of vetted family grooms, I wouldn’t miss a cent of that trust fund. Besides, I know my faults. I’m weird. Who wants to marry weird?

But here I am.

I have to do this for my family. My father made some investments he had no idea would be the end of the Jensen legacy. Was he reckless? Maybe. Is he contrite? I wouldn’t be considering marriage in exchange for my trust fund if he wasn’t.

“Wait, what do you mean I’ll be marrying Wesley Manning, Dean Edwards, and Camden Nash? Do I pick one of them?” I don’t even know who those men are.

“Oh no, darling. You get all three of them.”

“Grandma, what?”

“I thought you would be happy with three husbands. All your friends have three husbands, and they’re glowing with love and spoiled with attention. I didn’t want you to feel like the odd one out, my dear.”

If I blink hard enough maybe, I’ll wake up from this nightmare.

“I already met with them. They fully understand our financial situation, why you need your trust fund within the next three months and they’re happy with the triple union. It all works out. The Mannings, the Edwards, and the Nashes were three of the families approved by my mother. They’ve been in business together for eons and are now titans of industry. They are intrigued enough to accept my proposal.”

I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. This is not happening.

“They’re perfect, Haley,” my grandmother says. “You’re going to be very happy with your three husbands, just like your friends are. They’re very distinguished and mature. Where do you think you got your matchmaking gene from?” My grandmother is so pleased with herself that she gives me a smile so broad her eyes sparkle.

“Grandma, I got my matchmaking gene from a dog named Cupid’s Ass, who was given to me by a woman I never knew existed before.”

It’s true. My best friends, Tierney, Clementine, and I were done with university, had no idea what to do with our lives, decided to get puppies, and found our personal counterparts at a shelter run by an eccentric woman.

She told us about the three French poodles’ unique skills, sold us the matchmaking company she ran with her friends in her younger days, and we never looked back.

But no, if I’m going to marry a man to bail my father out, I don’t want to marry three of them. Thank-absolutely-no. Even one is too much for me right now.

And fine, according to Tierney and Clementine, who each have three husbands, a reverse harem is the bee’s knees, or as they put it, the triple effect. How they manage, I will never know, and I’m not keen to find out either.

“It’s all settled. You’ll marry the day after tomorrow. Your trust fund will be released to you in three months from the date you sign the marriage certificate, and your father will be able to clear his debt and keep Jensen House.”

Jensen House. If my parents lose this house, the Jensen name will be worthless. My father is the only Jensen without sons and also the only Jensen to completely empty the family’s coffers. That’s two strikes against him.

Is there no way out of this for me?

“I want to see the will, the contract, and any other documents, please.”

“Of course.” My grandmother rummages through her oversized bag at her foot and hands me a thick envelope. “Your future husbands’ contact details are in there as well.”

I stand at my father’s desk and read through each page. It starts with documenting the entire history of the Jensen family. While I’m tempted to skim over the information I already know, I do read each line. When I finally get to the actual contract, I read even slower, careful I don't miss a clause that might bail me out. As the unread piles grow smaller, my apprehension skyrockets. I will have to marry these three men to save my family.

But then I find a stipulation written in such small print I’m forced to bring the page closer to read the words. It references another clause. I go through the pages again, but I can’t find it until I turn a page over, and there it is. My heart pounds in my chest. This is it. I shove all the papers back into the envelope.

“Haley?” my gran, my mom, and my dad chorus, looking at me with alarm.

“I found a loophole,” I say, trembling now. As I hurry out of my dad’s office, I fumble in my handbag for my cell. By the time I’m heading out to my car, I’m already calling a residential number for Manning, Edwards, and Nash.

“Hello, may I speak to either Mr. Manning, Mr. Edwards, or Mr. Nash, please?” That’s a freaking mouthful to say each time.

A man with a pleasant voice, called Ralph, informs me the masters aren’t home. They’re still at their offices in the city.

Well, this is a life-or-death situation, so it doesn’t matter that it’s 10 p.m.