Marriage (Red, White &) Blues (Unexpectedly Married #2)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

W e ate and got real tipsy on mudslides while talking about one of Pen’s new art pieces—as in one she made, not one she’d bought. Pen sculpted the most beautiful clay pieces. She sold them, too.

One of the five million ways Ant continuously strived to make this Pen’s home—he built her a studio with a kiln and everything, so she could work from home.

Anyway, the four of us—Pen, Sierra, Wendy, and me—were elbow-deep in desserts, drinks, and good conversation when out of the blue Pen blurted, or more like slurred , “I still can’t believe you married into the Parker family.”

And cue the drunk girl defending her man. “I knew nothing about the Parkers when I met Blake.” I drew that ‘nothing’ out to four syllable length to prove my point.

“I know why you fell for him,” Wendy said. “He’s handsome, charming, and he thinks the sun rises and sets with you.”

“We have a lot in common. He swept me off my feet in Paris and hasn’t set me down since.”

“But seriously… Brockton Parker?” Pen asked. “He’s such a?—”

“Tool? I know,” I said, cutting Pen off. “His wife, Emily, is every bit as bad.”

“Which means I have to ask,” Sierra jumped in, “why the hell are you campaigning for that stuck-up douche-canoe? Is this Blake’s doing?”

“Hardly. Okay guys, you can’t say anything. I’ve got some things to tell you but I need your promise.”

All three women drew crosses over their hearts and that was good enough for me. Everyone knew how sacred the finger cross was between friends.

“Okay, the day after the wedding made the news, we were summoned to the Parker estate. Given my ‘ commonness ’—”

Pen narrowed her eyes. “Your commonness?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard since the first day you brought me home with you to go swimming.”

She clenched her jaw hard enough to crack teeth.

“They thought they could intimidate me, but I don’t know, ever since I met Blake, this new more confident Gloria has emerged and I basically told them what they could do with their intimidation.”

Sierra smiled, all big, toothy and white. “My girl is grown,” she teased.

“Yeah, well… I found out exactly what they planned to do. Mr. Parker looked me dead in the eyes and threatened my mother if I didn’t comply. And he’s got the power to pull it off.”

As expected, their mouths all dropped open. “What did Blake say?” Wendy asked.

“He stood up for me, for us, but as good as Blake and his sister, Jupiter, are, the rest of them are pure evil and I’m a smart enough woman to recognize a credible threat. So, I agreed.”

“Jesus, Gloria, are you sure you want to stay married?” Sierra asked. “He seems like a good man, but I don’t know...”

Well, if that didn’t slap the sober back into this reunion. “Stop,” I said. “I love him. He’s not them . I’d marry him again even knowing all this.”

“Honey, loving someone isn’t always enough.”

“It’s enough for me.” I paused, took a breath, then continued on. “His grandfather, the one that died, left Blake the bulk of his estate if he married before thirty. Blake’s twenty-eight. But the caveat is, he can’t get divorced or all the money goes to the NRA.”

“And Blake’s not a supporter?”

“Not even close.”

“Good play, Grandpa,” Pen said. And yeah, a seriously good play.

“Guys, I get half if we stay married.”

“Is money enough to compromise yourself?” Sierra asked— ouch.

“That’s not fair. Some of us weren’t raised Von Duttons or Winthrops. For the first time in my life, I’m not the poor friend and I have the chance to do some real good in this world.”

“You were never the?—”

“Oh no, we both know I was.” You better believe I cut her off. “But if we stay married, I’m worth billions .”

Wendy cough-choked. “Excuse me?”

“I know. So, if I have to suck it up and walk the campaign trail to keep my mom safe and help families in need, well, my conscience is clean.”

“Whatever you need,” Pen said, reaching over and giving my knee a squeeze. “I’m here for you.”

“I know.” But the heavy had to end or we’d end this night with me a sobbing, redheaded mess, which meant more mudslides to get the party vibe going again. I walked over to grab the pitcher from the small outdoor freezer, carrying it back to top off the girls. When I stopped to fill Sierra’s glass I asked, “Now what I need to know is what’s up with you and Pete?”

Sierra blanched. Oh-ho-ho… I loved me some juicy gossip.

“I’ve been trying to get it out of her for months now,” Pen said. “She won’t talk.”

“Si?” I asked.

“There’s nothing between me and Pete,” she answered and both Pen and I waited her out. I didn’t believe that one damn bit. And it only… took… until… “Okay, so we slept together a couple of times. It’s no big deal.”

“ Bull ,” I said, shaking my head as I sucked up the mudslide through my straw. “The man looked at you like he wanted to eat you up.”

“Is he a bad lay?” Pen asked. “I’ve never gotten that vibe off of him.”

Sierra’s cheeks pinked.

“Well?” Wendy asked, and we all looked at her. “What?” she said. “I’m invested.”

We all were.

“No,” Sierra replied. “The man has… I’ve never…” She swallowed hard. “He’s not a bad lay. Can we leave it alone now? Tonight is about Gloria. I take it Blake knows how to rock your world.”

“Off its axis,” I admitted and Pen and Wendy started giggling. “Honest to god, I had no idea sex could be like that.”

“I bet he has a dirty side.” Wendy sipped on her straw. “The clean ones always have a dirty side.”

I cracked up. Wendy, you got some ’splaining to do. And I shot her the ‘ do tell ’ eyes.

“What?” she asked all innocent and red faced. “You think I’d put up with the McCains without a good reason? Despite what his family thinks, I didn’t marry Corm for his money.”

Pen and I shrieked.

Sierra whooped.

And Wendy smiled while taking another drink.

“So does he?” Wendy asked. “Have a dirty side?”

“Ladies, those cookies tonight came from a bakery because after what we did in the kitchen, I couldn’t serve you the homemade ones.”

“ Oooh …” Wendy clapped her hands together one time.

“He loves you,” Pen said. “He wants to make sure it’s good for you. That’s how the good ones are. I’d know.”

Sierra turned absolutely green at her comment.

Okay, whatever went down between Pete and Sierra, she wasn’t ready to talk about it. I understood that completely. To be the bigger person, I changed the subject. “When are you all coming to Vermont?”

Sierra shot me a silent thank you . I nodded once to show I’d seen her and got her.

“I’ll check our schedules and see what Ant and I can work out.” Then Pen cupped her mouth and yelled over to her husband, “Hey, Ant, we’re invited to Vermont.”

He, of course, smiled indulgently back. “We’ll see what works.”

The great thing about Stanton McCain, he meant it. Forget placating his wife, he lived to make her happy. If he said they’d see what worked, he meant it.

“Si?” I asked, and she shrugged.

“It’ll probably be in the spring. Work is crazy right now with the merger happening.” Sierra’s family owned Win-Mart. Located in all fifty states and thirteen countries around the world. All of them. Their family were multi-millionaires, but unlike that other W-Mart, Win-Mart paid their employees a living wage. And from what I understood, this merger was huge for them. Buford Tires—yes, that Buford Tires. How many of us grew up singing that jingle? When you’re on the road driving but your tire has gone flat, stop into Buford and we’ll fix it up like that. I can still picture those dancing tires from the commercial. Anyway, Buford tires will be sold exclusively in Win-Mart stores.

“What about you, Wendy?”

“Me?” The woman threw a hand to her chest.

“Uh, are you here in the girl huddle?” I waited for her answer.

She giggled. “I am.”

“Rights and privileges, herein.”

“I’ll talk to Corm.”

“Good,” I replied.

And that was that. From there on out we kept it light. Blake got along great with Ant, Cormac, and Pete. They sat in their man-huddle talking and laughing like they’d known each other for ages. When we reached the what I decided was the end of the night, I dangled the keys in front of Blake to grab his attention, then shoved them down my cleavage.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. It appears I’m going to have to call it a night.” He stood up, giving each man a back pat before he turned to me. Blake kissed me while fishing the keys out from between my boobs.

We walked out to the car, where he helped me into the passenger seat. “You’re sloshed, sweetheart. I’ll drive us home.”

“I’m not sloshed. Just horny.”

“You sound sloshed.”

“Not sloshed,” I protested. “If I’m sloshed, you won’t have sex with me when we get back to the house.”

“ Am I having sex with you when we get back to the house?”

“All the sex. Rough and dirty.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Rough and dirty, eh?”

“You remember that thing you did today with the twist… I want that. ”

Even as he laughed, his eyes blazed through me with a promise that stole my breath and pinked my cheeks from the heat building between us. “I can do that,” he agreed. “But which one, in the front or from behind?”

“ Behind ,” I shouted a bit too eagerly. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

Blake continued to laugh at me. “Have I told you how much I love being married?”

“I’m fairly certain you didn’t have to marry me to do the twist.”

“It’s not the twist, Glory. There are so many reasons and the twist doesn’t even come close to the top of the list.” The blaze in his eyes softened to that of a warm fire crackling in a fireplace on a cold winter night, all snuggly and warm.

Thank the universe for the invention of love because once we locked ourselves inside the house for the night, he gave me the twist from behind, then from the front, and finally one last time from the back for good measure.

“ Glory .” He sort of heaved my name because he had a hard time catching his breath. We lay on the living room floor completely naked. The coffee table knocked over. I still lay on the two cushions he’d pulled from the sofa and stacked under me to lift my hips into the perfect position for all the exquisitely naughty things he’d done to me, which was how the ice cube tray with the few remaining ice cubes melting inside and the half-used tube of toothpaste found their way into the night’s festivities.

“Mm?”

It took a superhuman effort for him to roll onto his side to face me. We stared at each other for a few beats until he reached his hand over to sift my hair from my eyes. He rubbed the strands between his fingers. “Thank you for loving me enough to put up with the tour.”

“My vows weren’t empty words, Blake. I meant them. My promise to love you, to spend my life with you—we’re in this together.” I closed my eyes, scooting closer to him and snuggling against his chest, my head pressed against his neck. He reached behind him to snag the corner of the old throw that started the evening tossed over the back of the sofa, pulling it down to cover us. He tugged the cushions from under me to make me more comfortable and we held each other, inches apart, until we both fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes the next morning, I didn’t think anything could wipe the smile from my face. Well, until my phone buzzed and vibrated from inside my upturned purse that had fallen off the coffee table during our vigorous nocturnal activities. Candice’s name flashed across the top screen. Well, it actually read, Harpy , but for anyone who spoke Gloria ese, it meant Candice.

I wanted to reach through the phone and throat punch her. How dare she wake us so early on a Saturday. Okay, it didn’t suck to see my husband with his sleep-mussed hair roll over and prop his head up on his hand to smile at me, but otherwise the cee-you-next-Tuesday needed to burn in the fiery pits of hell. I know, don’t hold back Gloria, tell us how you really feel. But I did not like that woman. Not her rudeness. Not the way she constantly sneered at me but especially not the way she flirted with my husband. He never reciprocated, but seriously, that screamed of low self-esteem. I hoped the pits of hell had therapists, because she needed one—stat.

“Is there a reason you’re calling at eight in the morning on a Saturday?” I grumbled rather than answer with a ‘ hello ’.

“You have a luncheon today at the Detroit Women’s League.”

“Uh… no, I don’t. There’s nothing on the schedule until the dinner tonight.”

“Both Mrs. Parkers have decided to host one and you’ll be joining them. We need Detroit on our side to take Michigan.”

“Then let them have their lunch. I’m going back to sleep.”

“ Listen ,” she said in a tone that— excuse me? Fiery pits. Swear to all things holy: fiery pits. “This luncheon is being hosted by the Parker women. You are now a Parker woman; therefore, you will join Adair and Emily to graciously welcome the Detroit Women’s League and convince them to vote for Brockton Parker. This is non-negotiable.”

“They can’t possibly want me there.”

“Of course, they don’t. But this is your life for the foreseeable future. Better get used to it.”

These were the times when I had to remind myself that the safety of the people I cared about outweighed my comfort.

I pressed my palm to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut as I struggled to find enough calm to ease my warbly insides, and I let out a slow breath. “Fine,” I replied. “Are they sending a car?”

“It will be at the hotel to pick you up by eleven.”

“We aren’t at the hotel. We’re at my house.”

“Your house?” she asked in a razor-sharp tone. I swore I heard her nostrils flare through the line. “I’ll need that address.” After I gave her the information, she huffed out a disgusted breath. “Why must you make everything more difficult?” I stayed silent because I figured she meant it rhetorically. “The car will be there at 10:30 now. Be ready.” The abrupt silence on the other end both ticked me off and momentarily put me at ease.

“When is the campaign over?” I asked my husband. Every minute I had to spend with Adair, Emily or Candice , drove me closer to prison time.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Blake moved his hand up to my face, leaning in, brushing his nose up my cheek before going in for a proper ‘ good morning ’ kiss. “Murder isn’t the answer,” he said against my lips and I smiled because apparently, we were at the point in our marriage where he could read my thoughts. Couples goal achieved.

“Are you sure?” I whisper back against his, my breath hitching when he slid his finger over my sweet spot, and I shivered.

The dimple popped out on the corner of his mouth even as we continued to kiss. “Can’t do this if you’re in prison.” He rolled on top of me, pushing between my thighs. This was exactly the morning stretch I needed. His hip movements started slow causing my eyes to roll back. “Eyes, Glory,” he demanded and my eyes spring open at his command.

We never lost eye contact as he pumped, the thrusts going harder, rougher, but not faster. I opened my mouth to scream his name or something but no sound escaped. My entire body jerked as his thrusts grew to a fevered pitch. A hurricane brewed violently inside me. Thunder crashed. Lightning bolts ripped a path along every pleasure point until a torrent of orgasmic bliss destroyed me.

“Okay,” I said with a painfully heaving chest. “Murder is off the table for now, but after this election we are done with campaigns forever .” I pressed my lips to his again. “And I mean forever—not even for secretary of the PTA at our future children’s school.”

He nipped the skin at my shoulder. “Promise. Not even PTA secretary.”

Now that they’d forced this impromptu luncheon on me, I had to give into reality and reluctantly pushed up from the floor to shower.

“ No ,” Blake whined. “There’s time before the car shows. “There are still rooms I haven’t fucked you in yet.”

“Fucked me in?” I asked. “Is this alpha speak?”

“Do you like it?”

“Are you ordering me to?”

“Yes,” he answered. “And if you insist on showering, then you’ll have to put up with me taking you bent over the sink and pressed up against the cool tile. Do you have a scooter?” he asked bizarrely.

“No. Why?”

“Because I plan on you not being able to walk by the time the car shows.”

I grabbed his hand, dragging him up, more than ready to find out how he planned to damage me. In the end, I still retained the ability to walk but my sex definitely pulsed.

And with the cloudy, chilly day outside, I chose a fitted, tan, cowl neck sweater dress that stopped just below my knees. I paired that with a thick, brown suede belt and my brown, suede, tall boots with the tall heels. And I might have rebelled a bit by leaving my hair down and curly and going with my gold locket and gold hoops rather than pearls. With my makeup finished, I walked out of the bathroom to get Blake’s opinion.

“Well?” I asked as I turned in a slow circle for him to take in the whole outfit.

“My mother’s going to hate that dress.” He was right. My face fell. “You just keep upping the beauty quotient, which is saying something.”

“Thank you.” A beautiful warmth curled around my heart from his compliment.

“Is your wedding ring in place?”

Odd question. I held my left hand up to show him. “Of course. Why?”

“Because everyone needs to know you’re taken.”

I laughed. “It’s a women’s luncheon.”

“Like that matters.”

Deciding to let that one slide, I change the subject, asking, “What are your plans for today?”

“Oh—get this, I got a call from Candice while you were dressing. Apparently, my father, Brock, and I are golfing with Philip von Dutton, Gerald McCain, and about ten of their wealthiest cronies.”

“Honey…” I chuckled in sad commiseration. “You hate to golf.”

“Why does it always have to be golf? Why not squash or pickleball?”

“I know,” I said, pressing a hand to his cheek.

“Then we have that dinner tonight where we have to put up with even more insufferable small talk. The only part of the day I’ll enjoy is sitting next to you.”

“We get Sunday off,” I offered to help.

“Travel day.”

“But it’s a travel day without insufferable conversations.”

“I really want to kiss the shit out of you right now.”

My shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Now I have something to look forward to. Be prepared to show up fashionably late to that dinner tonight, Gloria Parker.”

“Is that an order?” I asked in challenge, winking.

“Dammit, woman.” He ran a hand over his face but composed himself enough to kiss my cheek right as the doorbell rang. My chariot awaited. I collected my phone and my clutch, kissed Blake one more time, and then headed off to lunch with the Detroit Women’s League. Fun.

To pass the time, I tried to engage the driver in conversation. As that failed miserably, I texted Pen and Sierra all about the lunch I was on my way to.

Pen: My mother will be there.

Me: You?

Pen: Sorry, no. I’d have accepted her invitation if I’d known you’d be there.

Si: I wouldn’t. My mother is in Arizona. I’m safe.

Me:

Si:

Me: Just you wait, Sierra Winthrop. Your evil ways will come back to haunt you.

Si: I’ll take my chances.

Pen: Ant is giving me his ‘I want booty’ eyes. G2G

Si: Guess it’s just you and me.

Me: For now. Blake has ‘I want booty’ eyes too.

Si: Hey!

Me: Evil ways…

The car rolled to a stop in front of the convention center. A doorman opened my door for me, holding up his white-gloved hand to help me out. Time to put on my game face. A good plan given Adair walked up on me as I straightened my dress.

She gasped. “What are you wearing ?” It didn’t bother me because I’d already planned for this reaction.

Rather, I replied, “It’s nice to see you too, Mrs. Parker.”

“Why would you wear that here? Are you trying to pick up a date?”

Uh… Was that an insinuation? Was she calling me a prostitute? “It’s not like you gave me any warning. I had to find something in my closet.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s too late to do anything about it now.” Then she turned around to walk back into the venue and I took that to mean that I needed to follow her. “If you’d stayed at the hotel, there’d have been time,” she tacked on under her breath.

“You can’t wear that!” Emily shouted at me when she saw us. “You look like a streetwalker… Adair, she looks like a streetwalker.”

“The dress is cashmere.” I defended myself and my wardrobe choice.

“Great, so you’re a high-priced call girl. That makes me feel so much better. And there’s just so much of you,” she said and I blanched because they were the ones who insisted I show today. “My husband is running for president. This is a disaster.”

Whatever. I refused to be intimidated today. When I closed my eyes and concentrated, I still felt my husband between my legs. I still smelled his field-after-a-rain mixed with sex scent, and I still heard his playfulness as he brought me to orgasm bent over the sink. Neither of us could use that new toothbrush for teeth now. I smiled.

“So, you’ll be Jackie and I’ll be Marilyn,” I said. “It’ll be fine.”

“For goodness’ sake, Emily, calm down,” my mother-in-law scolded. “You’ll mess your face. We’ll go out and act completely natural. Some of the women might be shocked at first, but if we don’t react, neither will they. We can get through this.”

I couldn’t believe these women acting as if we were facing down a natural disaster rather than me in a beautiful, designer cashmere dress. I’d bought it for an end-of-the-year work party a few years back.

Adair took to the microphone to welcome all the ladies. They loved Adair.

Yeah, I stuck out like a sore thumb among all these highly conservatively-dressed women. Despite that, I held my head up high as I took to the podium to read the speech Candice had given to me where I talked about family values and the importance of home and supporting my husband and his family.

After I finished, Emily, future first lady hopeful, took to the stage. The women loved Emily. Dare I say more than Adair? She talked about her husband, her children, and a woman’s solemn duty to protect her family. By the end of her speech, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to puke or vote for Brockton Parker. And I knew I didn’t want to vote for Brockton Parker.

The minute my butt hit the seat inside the car to take me home, I called my husband.

“You owe me big time,” I told him and he sighed.