Chapter 4
Chapter Four
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H aley
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G reat.
When my grandmother said they are distinguished and mature, I immediately thought they were older—not in their early thirties. They’re barely seven years older than I am. So I was thrown off a bit when I asked to see their dads, but I’m back on track now. There is no way I can be married to these three men. I am not crazy.
Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough about the sneaky clause in the contract, so I repeat everything I said word for word and get the same freaking response from them.
“No.”
“Okay, just to be clear, you do know you’ll be marrying me, right?”
“We’re very well aware of who the bride in question is,” gray-eyed Dean Edwards says. His tone is placating, with a hint of roughness that makes my skin feel hot.
“Why on earth would you want to marry me?” I cry, more astonished than I’ve ever been in my life. I can’t believe my grandma chose them . They’re just too... well, never mind. “What will you get out of it?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Dean replies.
“So you’re doing this for no reason at all? You get no benefit from it?”
“None.”
“And you still want to do it? Are you nuts? First, I’m a night owl, so good luck getting any sleep because if I’m awake, then you’re awake with me. Second, if you think I’m a good catch,” I say, using air quotes for good catch , “you’re so wrong. I’m the absolute worst. I don’t cook. I don’t clean. I can’t even supervise either of those things. I’m a demon on my period. I eat pineapple on my pizza. I believe in conspiracy theories. I’m superstitious as heck. I don’t walk under ladders, I’m petrified of breaking a mirror, and I knock on wood.
“Basically, if you think you’re going to get the perfect hostess, a born social butterfly, you’re not. I’m as cranky as my dog, and it’s a wonder we don’t bite humans yet.”
“You sound terrible,” Wesley Manning says. Yes, I now know the man with the dark brown eyes is Wesley Manning. He is not good for my nerves at all.
“Right? Like I said, I’m the worst. You don’t want to be around me, trust me.” I reach for a gold pen on the table and hold it out to them. “Sign this and you’ll never have to see me again.”
“The answer is still no. Or yes, depending on how you look at it. Yes, we’ll still be marrying you,” Camden Nash adds, his green gaze brimming with laughter.
“Oh, you think this is a joke? I am not being funny. This is real. Please sign this so I can be on my way.”
“We know this is real, Ms. Jensen. That’s why we’re still going ahead with the marriage. We plan to honor our family’s commitment to yours.”
“But you don’t have to.”
“We insist.”
“But why? You could have any woman in the world. A celebrity, a princess, a model, an heiress whose family is not facing complete bankruptcy. In case no one told you, you three are crazy good-looking. Some women would give anything to be on your arm wearing your ring.”
“But not you?”
“Exactly, now you’re getting it. We’re completely incompatible. It’ll be a disaster. According to the contract, we have to be married for three months before my trust fund is released. That’s ninety days of sheer inconvenience. Let’s do something nice for each other and spare ourselves a lot of trouble and frustration. Again, everyone wins.”
“No. We prefer for the marriage to go ahead as planned.”
“You’re not serious.”
“We are.”
“Why?” I’m going around in circles with these three.
“How could we not want to marry you? You’re everything we want in a bride.”
“Ugh, you’re making fun of me. Well, just so you know, I’m interpreting this as a hostile situation and will act accordingly. If you go ahead with this marriage, I’m going to make your life a living hell until you’re so tortured that you beg me to leave.
“But you know I’m going to stay an extra week just to mess with you further. Trust me, you don’t want this side of me. You have a chance to change your mind. Not choosing a clear exit from this contract isn’t going to end nicely for you.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest, jut my hip out, opting for a challenging stance. “You want to do this the hard way?”
I pause, desperately hoping they’re intimidated as we engage in a staring contest. Seconds stretch into a minute. I can’t keep this up. My eyes are stinging.
Crap.
“Okay, look, if you think this marriage is your ticket to free boinking whenever you want, it’s not going to be that way.”
“It’s not?” Dean asks.
“No, it’s not,” I say eagerly, thinking I might be getting through to them until I realize Dean is smiling at me.
“So you’re bad at cooking, cleaning, and boinking ,” Camden says, counting my flaws off his fingers. Oh, so Camden is the funny guy in the group.
“I’m bad at cooking and cleaning. I haven’t had any sex to know how I’ll fare there, but I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a matchmaker. I run a matchmaking company, Leashed to Love, with my best friends, Tierney and Clementine, and our dogs, so I know my stuff.
“Like chemistry. A girl meets a guy or more than one guy, and if she’s attracted to him—them—her nipples will harden, and her panties will get wet. She’ll get all coy and flirty. Lick her lips, play with her hair. Am I doing any of those things? No. Because I’m not attracted to ridiculously handsome men like you. So if we marry, it will be like having a roommate with zero benefits."
“You’re not attracted to us?” Camden asks, exaggerating how taken aback he is by my declaration.
“Yes, that’s what I said. Other people might find you hot and sexy and handsome, but not me. And I can prove it. My nipples are not hard,” I say as I grope myself. “I’m not playing with my hair, being all coy,” I point to my hair still in a bun under my Mary Poppins hat. “And... and...”
I have no earthly idea what I’m doing, but it’s too late for recourse. I slip my hands under the thick, voluminous skirt, tuck my fingers into the waistband of my underwear, do some wiggling, and peel them off.
“See? Zero attraction,” I say, holding my undergarment out for them to see.
Except... except, my panties are wet. Oh god. Not a dry spot anywhere in the gusset of my underwear.
What? How? When?
I act fast and continue my play. “Bone dry. Attraction? Zilch,” I say as I quickly stuff them into my pocket. I’ll have to burn them later.
“Now, will you sign the document that says you won’t be marrying me after all, so I can collect the concession money and be on my way?”
“After putting forward such a compelling and eloquent case as to why we shouldn’t marry you, you’ve piqued our interest. We like a challenge. The marriage goes ahead as planned.”