27. Shayla
27
SHAYLA
E aston sauntered into my office, his hair still damp from his post-practice shower. At this point, he was like a bad penny. He kept turning up. I was busy, trying to prepare for being gone for the weekend. We were flying out the next evening for the Vegas game the following day. Our plan was to head to the strip afterward and stop at the first wedding venue we saw. By the time we flew back home, we’d be man and wife.
At least on paper.
“What can I do for you, Walker?” I asked as I scrambled to organize the files on my desk so I could put them away. He frowned, his brows dipping at my clipped tone. I didn’t have time to entertain whatever nonsense he had in store for me today. We had a plan. We’d been over all the details. Our story was rock solid. There couldn’t possibly be anything else to discuss, and that only meant one thing. He was here to pester me.
“We need to practice our wedding kiss.” I froze, my eyes widening in surprise. Was he serious?
“Why would we do that?” I croaked out. He suddenly looked nervous, his gaze darting from my face to the floor.
“Well, there will be witnesses. It needs to look convincing.”
“Don’t they have people for that? People who won’t know us from Adam? It doesn’t have to be believable since we’ll never see them again.” Hell, we really didn’t even need to kiss to seal the deal. All they needed were our signatures.
“They do, but,” he began, then scrubbed a hand over his face, “I thought it would be wise to bring one or two of our own. You know, just to make it more legitimate,” he added with a shrug.
My mouth fell open, and I stared at him in shock. Had he told someone what we planned to do?
“I haven’t asked anyone yet,” he said, answering my silent question, “but I was thinking of bringing Kent. And maybe you could ask Claire. I thought you might want someone to be there for you too. Since it is a wedding and all.” That was … thoughtful. Before I could read too much into it, he continued. “They both already suspect something, so it won’t take much convincing. But I don’t think they need to know the real reason we’re getting married. That has to stay between us.”
“I agree.” The fewer people who knew, the better. If someone slipped up and told the wrong person, it could spell disaster for us and our carefully laid plan.
“And since they won’t know this is fake, our kiss needs to be believable.” I gulped. He had a point.
My fingers reflexively went to my lips, gently brushing across them as they tingled with the memory of his kiss. Easton’s gaze zeroed in on the motion, and I dropped my hands. I curled them into fists to avoid making that mistake again and cleared my throat.
“Okay,” I agreed, stepping out from behind my desk. “Do you want to do this now?” I asked hesitantly. Might as well get it over with.
“Why do you think I’m here?” he asked with a smirk, his arms spread to indicate his presence in my space.
I rolled my eyes and placed my hands on my hips, settling my unimpressed gaze on him. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
His eyes darkened, and he stepped slowly toward me. My body hummed with anticipation as he drew up in front of me and lifted his hand to cup my cheek.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I breathed, hating how needy I sounded.
His head descended slowly as he dropped his lips to mine. I closed my eyes, breathing in his masculine scent. His mouth pressed to mine, gently at first, then grew more insistent. His hot tongue ran across the seam of my lips, and I opened to him. He dipped inside and gripped my hip with his free hand. I curled my fists into the fabric of his shirt, fighting the urge to pull him closer.
My skin buzzed everywhere he touched me, the connection just as electric as the night we’d met. I wanted to wrap my body around his and let him devour me whole.
The hand cupping my face flexed and splayed over my jaw and throat, his thumb dragging over my pulse point. Could he feel how my heart raced beneath his touch? He gripped me possessively, sending an unexpected bolt of pleasure straight between my legs. My breasts grew heavy, the nipples pulling into tight peaks.
Then it was over. He released me and took a step back, putting some much needed space between us. I shivered as his warm body was replaced by the cool office air. To my utter embarrassment, I was breathing hard, my chest heaving like I’d just ran up a flight of stairs. My stupid, traitorous body. I didn’t want Easton to know how much he still affected me, but here I was, panting like a dog in heat.
Easton ran a hand through his hair and heaved a deep breath as though trying to gather himself. For a moment, I thought maybe he was just as affected by our kiss as I was. In a flash, that smug grin was plastered on his face again, and I realized my mistake.
“Wow, that was really convincing. Kiss me like that on our wedding day, and our friends might actually believe we’re in love.”
What the hell was I doing? Getting married to a man I hardly knew—and barely tolerated—was not on my bingo card this year. Yet, here I was, trying to decide between a floral sundress and my typical uniform of jeans and a Wraiths’ T-shirt to wear to my fake wedding. Maybe it was silly, but I wanted to look nice. Even if this marriage was a sham, it might be the only wedding I ever had. Best to make the most of it.
I started to pull off my shirt but paused when there was a knock on the door. Peering out the peephole, I didn’t recognize the young woman standing on the other side, but she was wearing the hotel’s signature uniform. She beamed at me when I swung open the door.
“Hi, I have a delivery for Ms. March,” she announced with a friendly smile. She held a rectangular shaped box with a gold emblem stamped on the top. It was from the boutique downstairs.
“I didn’t order anything. You must have the wrong room.” Her brows furrowed as she studied me.
“Are you Shayla March?”
“Yes,” I replied warily.
“Mr. Walker asked that I deliver this to you personally.” My eyes widened in disbelief.
“O-oh,” I sputtered dumbly. “I’m sorry.” I reached for the box, and she placed it gently in my arms, dropping a shopping bag on the top. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” she announced before turning and leaving me standing there dumbfounded.
I hurriedly shut the door and dropped the box onto the bed, pulling off the lid. Whatever was inside was hidden by tissue paper. A hand-written note on the top stood out starkly against the crisp white paper.
Shayla,
I know what we’re doing is unconventional, but I’d still like to maintain some traditions for our wedding. If you don’t like what I picked out, feel free to tell me to fuck off. We both know you’re not afraid to.
I snort-laughed, unable to conceal my amusement at his apt assessment. Surprise washed over me as I continued to read.
All I ask is that you try it on. If it’s not to your taste, feel free to send it back. There’s no pressure. But if it feels right and you like how it looks, wear it to meet me at the altar. There will be a car waiting downstairs for you at five o’clock sharp. See you soon, Wifey.
Stunned, I dropped the note on the bed and stared into the box. Easton bought me a dress. A dress to wear to our wedding. Holy shit. This was the sweetest, most unexpected thing he’d ever done. Despite my best efforts, he was winning me over. Maybe being married to him wouldn’t be so bad after all. We could be friends. That I could handle. It was a good thing since we would never be more, at least not behind closed doors.
Tentatively, I reached for the tissue paper and slowly folded it over, revealing the dress beneath. It wasn’t your typical wedding gown, but a white sundress with off-the-shoulder sleeves and sweetheart neckline. There were subtle ruffles at the bust and around the hem of the skirt. The bodice was fitted, nipping in at the waist and then flaring at the hips. It was a little shorter than what I typically wore, so I’d have to be more mindful of my movements. At least I brought my shapewear that kept my thighs from rubbing together so I wouldn’t accidentally flash anybody.
I slipped the dress over my head and studied my reflection. It wasn’t a style I would’ve chosen for myself, but it was still beautiful. And it fit me like a glove. How had he known what size to get? I wasn’t the usual size two supermodel that hung on his arm. No, you’d have to add a one in front of that. And that was on a good day.
Refusing to let those thoughts spiral out of control, I peered into the shopping bag. There was a shoe box along with two smaller boxes. I pulled out the shoe box first and opened it to find the cutest pair of wedge sandals. They were white with eyelet lace straps and accents complete with ribbon that wrapped around the ankles and tied in a bow. The second box held a pair of dainty drop earrings and matching necklace that paired perfectly with the dress.
I opened the final box and pulled out the small bundle of tulle. Holding it up, I studied the material a moment before my eyes widened in surprise. I covered my mouth to suppress the emotion as my eyes misted over with tears. It was a veil. It was small and cute, the perfect size for a Vegas wedding. This man had thought of everything.
Checking the time, I dropped the veil on the bed and rushed to the bathroom. I wanted to refresh my makeup and touch up my curls from the game. I may have run my hands through my hair in frustration a few times. The game was a nail biter. We eked out another win somehow, taking the lead with only seconds left on the clock. The other team hadn’t expected us to come to win, but they got the surprise of a lifetime when our guys hit the ice. They came out swinging and didn’t slow down the whole time.
Once I was satisfied with my makeup, I added the finishing touches to my hair, pulling the sides back from my face. It created the perfect style to add the veil to once I reached the venue. I wouldn’t put it on until I was out of the hotel so I didn’t risk someone from the team seeing me. I wasn’t prepared to explain myself if that happened.
As it was, I looked like I could simply be heading out for a date or a night on the town. My ensemble didn’t exactly scream wedding attire, and that made it perfect.
I slipped on my shoes and gave myself one final look in the mirror. Wide gray eyes stared back at me with trepidation and maybe a hint of excitement. I was getting married in Vegas. This was the most reckless thing I’d ever done, and that gave me a little thrill. I tried to ignore the fact that it wasn’t a real marriage and wouldn’t last long. For just one night I wanted to pretend. I wanted to forget that my mom was sick and we were drowning in bills. That I was only marrying Easton to get my inheritance and keep us afloat. I wanted to ignore it all and pretend I wasn’t doing this because my world was falling apart.