4
CASH
I GROAN WHEN I OPEN my eyes to the sun streaming through the window.
My head is pounding with a splitting headache from drinking too much whiskey last night. I used to party until dawn, catch a few hours of sleep, and wake up feeling good as new. Now, anytime I have a few drinks, it feels like I’ve been hit by a dump truck, the effects lingering for hours.
As I shift in bed, I’m aware of a warm body curled up behind me, which is strange since I never invite anyone back to my apartment or hotel room. The women I’ve slept with know my terms—one night, no strings attached, and no misconceptions of a long-term commitment. And I always leave before they wake up.
When I glance over, my breath catches when I see Everly lying next to me. Dark tresses fan out across her pillow, her full lips slightly parted while she sleeps soundly.
The last time I saw her before last night was a few weeks after high school graduation. Her parents had just gotten divorced, and she left for college early. Theo and I took her to the airport, and as much as I hated seeing her go, I told her she would have the adventure of a lifetime.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I’m in the same bed as my best friend’s sister, and I can’t remember what happened after we left the piano bar last night.
This is bad. Very bad.
I disentangle myself from her, easing her arm from my hip so I can get up. I pause when she stirs, letting out a soft moan, but within seconds her breathing evens out.
I’m relieved to find my phone on the nightstand and unlock it. A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead when I see my screen saver has changed to a photo of Everly and me sitting in the back of a bright pink Cadillac.
In front of a wedding chapel.
She’s wearing a fitted white wedding dress, completed with a short veil and high heels. A small bouquet of daffodils rests on her lap, and she is smiling into the camera. My arms are banded around her waist as I look down at her with affection.
Holy fucking shit.
I wipe my hand across my face, pausing when a cool piece of metal brushes against my skin. The weight on my ring finger registers, and my gaze shifts to the nightstand where the marriage certificate confirms my suspicions—Everly and I got married.
Memories from last night begin to flash back into my mind. Everly laughing while browsing a rack of wedding dresses at a boutique located in the Shoppes at Premiere. An officiant dressed as Elvis reading us our vows. Me carrying Everly across the threshold of our hotel room.
I vaguely remember ordering room service. After our dinner of cheeseburgers, fries, and milkshakes, we watched several reruns of Big Bang Theor y in bed, and fell asleep cuddling.
I’m still wearing last night’s white button-up shirt and boxer briefs, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I glance over at Everly and see she’s in her bra and panties. The only piece of clothing on the floor appears to be her dress.
The only thing that could have made this situation worse is if we had sex.
I run my fingers through my hair and consider the mess we’re in. I’ve done a lot of stupid shit, but this takes the cake.
Theo is going to kill me when he finds out, and I don’t even want to imagine how Everly is going to react when she wakes up and realizes she’s married to the guy she called a Casanova. I could wake her up to talk about what happened, but I figure it’s best to let her sleep.
In the meantime, I’m going to take advantage of Premiere’s world-class room service and order some food for us. Hopefully, her favorite breakfast will help ease the shock when she wakes up to this unexpected situation.
“Cash Stafford, where are you?” Everly’s furious voice carries down the hall.
I don’t respond, taking another bite of my acai bowl. There’s no predicting what will happen when she finds me, so I might as well enjoy what could very well be my last meal.
The sound of her bare feet against the hardwood floor fills the living room as she storms in. Her hair is gathered on the top of her head in a loose bun, and she’s dressed in the same white dress she wore last night.
“Good morning, Ev. How did you sleep?” I pop a piece of banana into my mouth.
“Cut the shit, Stafford. Care to explain this?” She sticks out her hand, thrusting the massive diamond on her finger into my face.
“It’s a ring.” Another memory surfaces of me calling in a favor to have the manager of the upscale jewelry store on the second floor of Premiere show us the exclusive collection of rings they keep under lock and key—one of the many perks of my family owning the hotel.
The five-carat pear-shaped diamond set me back two hundred thousand dollars, yet it felt like it was meant to be since it fits her finger perfectly.
I may have gone overboard, but in my buzzed state, I loved the idea of Everly walking around with a giant rock on her finger, so there was no question who she belonged to. It’s not like I can’t afford it. Even sober, I find it oddly satisfying.
“Why are you acting so calm?” She throws her hands in the air in frustration. “We got married last night. How could you let that happen?”
“Me?” I point at my chest. “You were happy to go along with it. I recall you were adamant that we—and I quote— find the perfect dress for the best night of my life . That detail must have slipped your mind,” I taunt her. “I appreciated the ego boost. It’s not every day a pretty woman says getting married to me is the best thing to happen to her.”
In fact, it’s the last thing I expected to hear in my lifetime, considering I swore I’d never settle down.
“The four tequila shots might have impaired my decision-making skills, but unfortunately, not my memory.” She grumbles. “I have a low tolerance for alcohol.”
“That would have been helpful information to have last night.” On the bright side, she remembers what happened.
She bites down on her lower lip as she paces the room.
I rise from the couch and move in front of her.
“Take a deep breath,” I say, placing my hands on her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”
I’m intrigued by the enigmatic woman before me, curious about what brought about her transformation. Above all, I want a glimpse of my Everly because I’m sure she’s still in there somewhere.
“How can you say that?” she protests. “We’re practically strangers, and now we’re legally bound together. I don’t even know what kind of car you drive, your favorite food, or if you were lying about your relationship status. Those are all things I should know about a person before I agree to date them, let alone marry them.”
God, she’s adorable when she overthinks.
“I own a Jeep Wrangler YJ Rio Grande that I store in my parents’ garage. When I’m in London, I walk to work since my apartment is close to the office. My favorite meal is my mom’s homemade lasagna and garlic bread, but I’m a fan of everything she cooks,” I say, ticking each item off on my fingers. “And I didn’t lie about my relationship status. I’m as single as a person can get.”
At least I was until last night.
She sighs. “Thank god. The last thing I need is to be the other woman this time.”
This time?
I decide against asking her to elaborate, given the predicament we’re in.
“Why don’t you have some breakfast before it gets cold?” I usher her over to the couch and gesture to the dining cart. “I ordered French toast topped with whipped cream, sliced banana, and extra syrup—just the way you like it.”
She blinks back at me. “Let me get this straight.” She puts her hands on her hips. “You woke up to find out that we were married, and instead of coming up with a solution, you ordered breakfast?”
“You could just say thank-you.”
“Why would I do that?” she retorts.
“Just in case your tastes have changed, I also ordered scrambled eggs, Belgian waffles, and an acai bowl with berries. I’ve never had a wife, so hopefully you’ll cut me some slack if I do this all wrong,” I joke, hoping to lighten the mood.
She stares ahead with a vacant expression, and after several seconds, she shakes her head like she’s coming out of a trance.
“We. Got. Married. How can you be concerned about food right now?” She waves frantically at the food cart. “You should be finding the quickest way to get out of this, not concerned about what kind of fruit I like with my French toast.”
I’ve done a lot of reckless things in my adult life. Like when I decided on a whim to spend a month off the grid in India. Or when I spent a night partying in Los Angeles with the Sovereign Kings, a world-famous rock band, and woke up the next morning in Japan. Before yesterday, my most impulsive decision was buying a private jet because I hated asking Harrison for permission to use the shared Stafford Holdings’ plane. Those things pale in comparison to getting hitched to my best friend’s sister.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” I gesture for her to sit. This time, she gives in, sinking into the couch. “What do you think we should do?” I ask, hoping she has a plan because I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.
“We’ll go back to London and have our lawyers draw up the paperwork for an annulment. It should be straightforward, and this will be a distant memory by next week,” Everly exclaims as she claps her hands together.
She’s a little too enthusiastic for my liking. My stomach churns at the idea of pretending this never happened. Suddenly, the few hours we spent together feels insufficient.
“Sounds like a great plan, but we have a big problem,” I tell her.
“Bigger than marrying someone in Vegas who you haven’t seen in fourteen years?” she challenges.
I chuckle at her seriousness. “If you were to ask my mom, the answer would be yes. I’m supposed to be in Aspen Grove for family photos this afternoon, and she’ll never forgive me if I’m not there.”
My mom has been looking forward to having new family photos taken for a while. She doesn’t think she sees me and my siblings enough and will find any excuse to get us together.
Dylan is the only one who lives in Aspen Grove, preferring to give his daughter, Lola, a sense of normalcy. Harrison and I have apartments in the city, located on the top floors of the Stafford Holdings headquarters we renovated three years ago. However, I’ve spent most of my time in London for the past nine months.
My sister Presley, and her boyfriend, Jack, have a massive apartment in New York that spans the entire ninetieth floor of a skyscraper and offers a breathtaking view of Central Park.
“What do your family photos have to do with me?” Everly asks.
“We’re married. I’m not letting you out of my sight until we figure this out.”
“You cannot be serious,” Everly huffs in annoyance. “Go to Aspen Grove, and when you get back to London, we’ll take care of this.”
“I don’t think so, wifey.” The new term of endearment rolls off my tongue. “We’re sticking together until we get the annulment.”
Her dark eyes widen. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? According to the state of Nevada, you’re my wife until we dissolve this marriage.” I can’t help but egg her on. “Is there a reason you don’t want to go to Aspen Grove?”
“No.” Her gaze shifts to the ground. “I just haven’t been there in a while.”
“It’ll only be for a few hours, and then we can go back to London,” I promise.
She gives me a skeptical look. “Fine, but we fly back tonight. I have to catch up on a lot of work before Monday morning.”
I’m still baffled that she’s working for Richard. He never passed up the chance to tell her and Theo how disappointed he was in them when we were kids.
I had the displeasure of meeting with him in New York last week, and it solidified my opinion that he’s a vindictive son of a bitch. My brothers and I spent three hours with him, and he didn’t bring up Everly once, which is odd since she plays a significant role in his business.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Family photos shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. Plenty of time for the pilot to refuel before we take off.”
Unless my mom decides to intervene when she learns the truth about our marriage. Given her track record of meddling in my siblings’ personal lives I wouldn’t put it past her.
My phone buzzes again, likely the hundredth text I’ve gotten in the past ten minutes.
With a brisk pace, I move up the walkway to my parents’ modest two-story Cape-style home.
I’m halfway up the steps when Everly places her hand on my arm to stop me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“I just got an urgent email from an important client dealing with a crisis. I need to call him,” she says.
“Yeah, sure.” I do my best to conceal my disappointment. “Just come inside when you’re finished.”
“You’re going to tell your family the truth about what happened between us, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I was hoping she’d be there when I broke the news about our impromptu marriage and annulment. My mom has always considered Everly part of our family. I can only imagine her reaction when she finds out that Everly is her daughter-in-law and in the same conversation that we’re dissolving our marriage.
My pulse is racing when I step inside the house. I’m not expecting to find my mom and siblings hovering in the entryway, all wearing looks of sheer panic. I’m bombarded with questions from all directions as soon as they see me.
“Where have you been?” Presley demands, pointing at the clock on the wall. “We’ve tried calling you a dozen times, but it kept going to voicemail.”
“You’re late,” my mom says, echoing my sister’s frustrations. She places her hands on her hips like she used to do when she would scold me as a kid. “You know how important this photoshoot is. I was worried sick when we couldn’t reach you.”
“You were supposed to fly back last night,” Harrison says, studying me suspiciously.
Nothing gets past him. Luckily, he doesn’t bring up the fact that I was supposed to call him after my meeting with the board. I completely forgot about it when I ran into Everly. He must have called the chairman for an update. I’m not looking forward to him losing his shit when he finds out what I’ve done.
“Yeah, well, something held me up in Vegas… or should I say, someone.” I keep my reply vague because it’s hard to find the right words to explain that I got married in Las Vegas to Everly Townstead, of all people.
“What are you talking—” Presley cuts herself off as she points to the ring on my finger. “What is that?” she asks with a gasp.
Oh shit.
“My wedding ring,” I answer truthfully. In the mad dash to make our flight, I forgot to take it off.
“I’m sorry, your what?” Presley screeches.
“I got married.” I do my best to downplay the announcement. “My wife is on a call but she’ll come inside as soon as she’s finished. Is it alright if we wait for her, Mom?”
She gapes at me in shock, clearly taken aback by my announcement.
“Your wife? ” Presley laughs. “Very funny, Cash. Who put you up to this?” She turns her glacier stare on Jack. “Was it you?”
He holds his hands up in defense. “I know better than to play practical jokes on you, little vixen.”
“What about you two?” She glares at Harrison and Dylan. “Because this joke is even less funny than the time you had Jack arrested.”
When Presley brought Jack to Aspen Grove for the first time and pretended they were dating, Harrison was suspicious. After some recon, we found out that Jack was Presley’s boss who had been tormenting her for years. We decided to prank him to teach him a lesson for messing with our sister. It’s the best practical joke we’ve ever pulled off, although I don’t think Jack would agree.
Dylan holds up his hands in defense. “It wasn’t me.”
Harrison shakes his head. “I had nothing to do with this.”
I make the mistake of stealing another glance at my mom. Her expression radiates pure happiness, and I can’t bring myself to tell her the full truth, at least not yet.
“I’m serious, Presley,” I say with a straight face. “We got hitched in Vegas last night and came straight to Aspen Grove to share the good news with our families.”
It occurs to me that Everly hasn’t asked to see her mom while we’re in town. Theo doesn’t have contact with her, but according to him, Everly does. So I wonder why she doesn’t come to visit.
“You got married and didn’t invite your own mother? Shame on you,” my mom interjects, smacking me upside the head.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a sheepish grin.
She seems more upset that I didn’t tell her than at hearing the news that I got hitched. She’s probably just grateful that she didn’t have to play matchmaker like she did for Presley and Dylan, which explains why she looks so happy right now.
Mom might deny it, but she’s made it her mission to intervene with my siblings’ love lives, and Presley and Dylan have both found their better halves thanks to her. I can work with this reaction—that is until I have to break the news about the annulment.
Everyone’s attention goes to the front door when it creaks open, and Everly steps inside.
“Oh, speaking of my wife,” I say, a smile spreading across my face.
I don’t think I’ll ever get over how much I like calling her that.
Harrison and Dylan exchange a confused glance when they see Everly and take in the giant diamond on her ring finger. I mentally pat myself on the back for choosing that one—no chance anyone will miss it, even if this whole thing is over by Monday.
“Oh, Everly,” my mother exclaims. “Welcome to the family, sweetie.” She pulls her into a hug, and Everly shoots me a glare.
I smirk back at her, giving her a thumbs-up.
She’s going to make me pay for this stunt later, but I might as well enjoy the ride while I can.