The Backpack Bride (Give a Bookish Girl a Biker #1)

Chapter Sixteen

W ith a stretch, I yawn and nestle deeper into the most comfortable bed I’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping in. But as I blink open my eyes, reality comes crashing down on me.

I’m married.

To a billionaire.

One smoking hot, bookish billionaire who also knows how to ride a motorcycle.

Heat flows through my body, making me way too warm and toasty. My mind wanders from Christian to my other motorcycle-riding crush. It’s been such a busy week, I haven’t had time to see if he’s posted anything new. But I could use some of his positivity right about now.

I rub the sleep from my eyes, flip over onto my stomach, and grab my phone off the nightstand. Christian’s muffled voice filters through the door. Sounds like maybe he’s on the phone, but I don’t want to pry. Instead, I’ll enjoy a few minutes of light social media stalking. But my favorite masked biker hasn’t posted anything new this week. Weird. Then I notice something different about his profile. Something that makes my heart rate spike.

“He’s... married ?”

The never-been-there-before wedding ring emoji under his profile pic is proof enough. My crush went and got hitched right out from under my nose. Of course, my first reaction is how dare he ? Then I remember that we don’t know each other in real life and calm down. He’s never even responded to any of my comments, nor have I seen the man’s face.

I chuckle to myself as another startling realization sweeps over me.

I also happen to be married.

Weird, right? That we’d get married in the same week? Guess our stars were never meant to align.

As if to remind me, the diamond ring on my finger catches the morning light. I take a moment to inspect the gorgeous, glittering rock the size of Colorado. Never did I think Christian would buy me a real wedding ring. It's stunning and exactly what I'd have picked for myself if I had an unlimited budget. With a dreamy sigh, I tear my eyes away from my new ring and tap into my messaging app and shoot Axel a text just to let him know that I love him and will pick him up from Case’s later. He doesn’t respond, probably because he’s sleeping in. Hopefully he’ll message me once he’s up and moving. Most of the time, he's good like that, not leaving me to worry for long.

I set my phone back on the nightstand and sit up in bed with a stretch. Unfortunately, that gives me the perfect view of my husband through the bedroom’s glass double doors. He’s standing at the kitchen counter, his phone wedged between his head and shoulder, and it looks as if he’s making coffee. Bless him.

Shuffling out of bed to change before he sees my ratty pajamas, I grab my duffle bag and head into the bathroom. My gorgeous wedding dress hangs on the back of the door as a reminder of our intimate incident last night. Heat spreads up my neck and into my face at the memory.

I make quick work of getting ready in case Christian needs to shower this morning, then head into the main living area. The hard edge to Christian’s voice stops me from venturing further into the room.

“Fine,” he says to whoever he’s talking to on the phone. “Now if it’s all right with you, I’d like to get back to my wife.”

My stomach takes a violent tumble off a cliff at the possessive way he refers to me. I press a hand to my midsection to ward off the feeling.

“Until then.” Christian carelessly tosses his phone on the kitchen counter, then grips the edge of it like he’s holding on for dear life.

For a moment, I just stand there, unsure of what to do. But if he turns around and sees me without me announcing my presence, there’s a chance he’ll think I was eavesdropping, and that’s not what I was trying to do.

I step forward and clear my throat. “Um. Good morning.”

Christian whirls around to face me, hair a haphazard mess like he ran his hands through it a bunch of times, and smiles. “Hey. Good morning.”

I gesture toward the couch. “How’d you sleep?”

The dizzying effect of his lazy grin goes straight to my head. “Like the dead.” He pushes away from the counter and motions to the coffee pot. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Just made it.”

“Yeah. It smells amazing.” I move into the kitchen, trying not to stare at his bare feet and cozy flannel pajama bottoms. Good night, the man looks like every woman’s cuddling dream come true.

“How did you sleep?” His question forces my eyes to his face.

“Really good. I was kind of worried I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep since I don’t always do well in new places but...” I shrug. “Only took about five minutes once my head hit the pillow.”

“I’m glad for it. I hope that means you won’t have any trouble sleeping at my place.”

His place.

Dang it, there goes my stomach again.

Christian pours me a cup of coffee, then extends it toward me, that half-smile of his still lingering. Our fingers brush when I accept the mug, but I refuse to focus on the warmth of his skin.

“So,” I venture. “About moving into your place...do you think we’ll have time to unpack everything before dinner tonight?”

That family dinner he mentioned has been hovering over my head like a storm cloud about to burst. I have no idea what to expect from Christian’s parents. Because we were surrounded by friends at the reception, they didn’t get a chance to corner us both together. At their house, though? That’s gotta be a different story, right?

“We should. When I ran up to change my shirt, it didn’t look like there were too many boxes from your place.” Right. Because we don’t have much. I look away, trying not to be bothered by the truth. He must see the embarrassment on my face, because he adds, “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just meant that you, me, and Axel can probably knock it out together in one afternoon.” Even with his reassuring words, shame still builds in my chest.

“Speaking of Axel,” I say, changing the subject. “I’m not sure how he’ll feel about family dinner.” I’m afraid to mention it to him in case he decides to bail like he did last night. He might be on board with the whole idea of me and Christian marrying for his benefit, but he’s not exactly fond of family bonding time. Unless it involves heading to the video game shop.

“Can we bribe him with something?” Christian brings his own mug to his mouth to hide his grin. “A video game, maybe?”

I huff a laugh. “That’s actually a great idea.”

Christian takes a sip from his mug. “I just know my mom expressed last night that she’d really like to meet him. She doesn’t have any grandchildren and...” Trailing off with a shrug, he sighs. “I’m not trying to put that kind of pressure on Axel, especially since we’re…” He clears his throat. “Anyway, she just really loves kids, and I know she’d want to get to know him.”

My stomach tightens with apprehension. Not only at Chris’s family meeting Axel, but at the way he couldn’t quite put a label on what we are. I tread lightly, knowing I need to fulfill my end of the bargain. Family dinners are a term I agreed to. “Axel is hardly a kid,” I say. “He's sixteen and kind of a pain in the butt.”

A startling laugh bursts out of the handsome man in front of me. “Aren’t we all? I mean, I'm practically thirty and still kind of a pain the butt.”

My smile spreads. “Most of the male population is, unfortunately. Though I can say with honesty you’re like...the least pain in the butt guy I know.”

Christian’s gaze intensifies. “Just give it time, Rox. I’m sure once you’ve lived with me for a while, you’ll have a growing list of grievances.”

I don’t know why, but every time he references us living together, my stomach erupts in a flurry, like there’s a team of tiny gymnasts living inside it. “Same,” I say taking another sip of coffee to calm that tiny team down.

“All right.” Christian sets his mug down onto the counter. “I’m going to go get in the shower and get dressed. Are you done in the bathroom for a while?”

I nod, clutching my mug to my mouth, all the while screaming at my brain not to picture my hot husband taking a shower.

“Breakfast should be here soon.” I gape after him when he starts toward the bedroom.

“Wait. You ordered breakfast?”

He stops and turns. “Yeah. Last night.” Running a hand through his hair, he adds, “I wasn’t sure what all you’d like, though, so I just sort of got one of everything.”

For the first time in a long, long time, my heart melts. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” He dips his chin and heads toward the bathroom, leaving me to swoon.

So apparently one of everything literally means one of everything.

Never in my life have I seen such an elaborate spread. And this is just breakfast . I can’t imagine what dinner looks like around this place. The cart the staff member wheeled in is loaded down with every kind of pastry a person could dream of, assorted jams and spreads, plus bacon, eggs, waffles, three different kinds of quiche, and all the assorted fruit a person could possibly want. Did I mention there are three different kinds of juice, too?

I’m not sure Christian realizes that there are only two of us here...

“How is it?” His voice startles me, and I whip around from where I’m seated on one of the wingback chairs. His dark hair is still wet from the shower, but every other part of him looks perfectly pressed. I’m not sure anyone has ever made a fitted jeans and black sweater combo look as tantalizing as Christian Price does. Perching his hot teacher glasses on his nose, he stalks toward me.

“Um. It’s...amazing,” I breathe, suddenly wondering if I mean the food or him .

“It does look good. I’m starving.” He sits down in the chair opposite me and grabs one of the plates from the cart. “Have you eaten?”

“I had a little bit.”

His hand stills, hovering over a lemon-filled pastry. “A little?”

I lick my lips. “This is just...a lot. I almost feel guilty for taking this much food from the kitchen.” Not to mention the guilt that plagues me from the simple fact that I’d never be able to afford any of this on my own. I don’t want Christian to think he needs to buy up the entire menu just to satisfy me.

“Roxy, no one is going without because I ordered us this.” His brows cinch tight even as his mouth tugs upward. “These pastries were a special order from the bakery down the street. For us. And the rest...” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug as he begins piling his plate with food. “This hotel is prepared to accommodate customers like me.”

Customers like me. Billionaires, he means.

I swallow, only mildly reassured. “But what if...what if we don’t eat it all? It seems kind of like a waste.”

His eyes meet mine again. “Do you want to take some home for Axel?”

It’s probably bad form or something to take leftovers from your hotel suite, but it seems wrong to let it all be tossed out. Besides, he did pay for it. I nod even while a flush of heat prickles up my neck.

“Okay, I'll have someone box it up for us. And...” He pauses. “From now on, I’ll try to only order what I know the two of us will eat. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Ever. All right?”

Again, I nod. His thoughtfulness amazes me.

“Please just get enough to eat,” he says, eyeing me over his plate full of food. “We’ve got a busy day today, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

A sudden and unexpected prickle begins behind my eyes. I’m not sure where the surge of emotion comes from, other than the simple fact that no one other than Eddy has ever looked out for me. And I’ve never, ever, heard a man say he wanted to take care of me.

I’d thank him if I trusted my voice to come out sounding normal. Instead, I add a few slices of bacon and one wedge of quiche to my plate. I can at least show my thanks by eating enough to keep me full until dinner.

Crap. Now I’m too nervous to even attempt another bite.