13. Jedd
JEDD
God.
Goddamn.
God fucking damn.
I’m kissing Andy. For the first time, years of fantasies are coming true as she gasps against my lips.
My breathing. My thoughts. My heart. The world.
It all stops.
Comes to a complete stand-fucking-still.
Lifting my hand, I curl my fingers around the side of her throat and drag her closer to me.
She’s kissing me back.
The breath stuck in my lungs shudders out at the realization that she’s kissing me back.
Elation, shock, a sense of triumph surge through my chest when her lips move against mine.
My dick twitches against the thin fabric of my shorts, and I’m seconds away from popping the hardest boner I’ve ever had in my adult life.
Slow. Slow and steady wins the race.
Winning her isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon, and one I’m going to fucking crush.
I pull back. The flavor of her hovers in the space between dreams and reality.
Eyelids heavy, her gaze is dazed as I break the kiss. I see the precise moment her thoughts start to churn and know that in order to win her I have to keep her guessing. I need to be stealthy. She can’t know my intent, otherwise she’ll run.
“Jedd.” The word floats between us.
“Mischief. We’re about to be married. We’re gonna have to kiss, it would look weird if we weren’t affectionate at all.”
Confusion pinches her brow before it smooths out. “Yeah. You’re right.” She nods and I hate that I have to halfway deceive her. That I can’t just tug her into my lap and kiss her until we forget where one of us starts and the other ends.
She runs her hand over one of her twin braids. “We should probably figure out what we’re going to tell your family—and Piper.”
This woman is going to marry me. Me.
I’m awestruck at her trust in me.
“I’ll handle my family. Do you want me there when you talk to Piper?” I already planned on looping my brothers into my plan, plus Harlan’s gotta expect something like this since he was the one who pointed it out to me in the first place.
A long silent moment passes. She’s got that look on her face that tells me she’s cycling through different possibilities and working out the logistics. She needs a little time to sort out her thoughts and find her words.
“No. I don’t think that she’s going to take it wrong, but I also don’t want to overwhelm her with both of us there if she does have a bad reaction.”
I nod. I also think that Piper will be fine with it—I bet she’ll be more excited than her aunt currently is—but she’s been through a lot lately, so if Andy thinks it’s best for them to talk privately, then I’m okay with that.
“She can’t know that this isn’t real,” she says after a minute. “I mean, the marriage will be real, but the reasons behind it are fake. I don’t think she’d say anything, but I also won’t put her in the position of having to lie for us.”
A twinge of hurt hits me right in the solar plexus.
She assumes this is fake.
I haven’t given her a reason to think otherwise. But I can’t. Not if I want to pull this off. Not if I want to convince her that we’re real. That what we can have is real.
Stifling the hurt from my tone, I say, “I know. I wouldn’t want her to lie for us either.”
She wouldn’t be lying because the reason for the marriage is completely real from my end of things.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to be there when you talk to your brothers and dad?”
I shake my head. Yeah, no. Not with the amount of bullshit they’re going to give me.
Also, I’d bet my shop that they’re going to have some uncomfortable questions and thoughts on the whole situation.
Better if I can bear the brunt of that instead of subjecting Andy to it when she already has so much going on.
“Nah. I’ll call an emergency family dinner and head over there tomorrow to tell them.”
We lapse into silence. Her face betraying the fact that her brain is going a million miles an hour. The pinch between her eyebrows along with the squint to her eyes tells me as much.
I want to gather her in my arms and kiss her again—but it’s probably better if I don’t.
“I’ll talk to Piper tomorrow after school. When do you want to go to the bank?”
I shrug, less concerned with that than I should be.
I didn’t expect her to demand to be allowed to help me, but it’s not like I’m surprised.
The earlier irritation at her demand is gone now that I’ve had time to think about it.
She has an almost pathological need to make things fair.
If she wants to be on the loan for the expansion, I don’t have an argument strong enough to deter her without hurting my reasoning for us getting married.
“We should probably get married first,” I say.
Once I get the loan, I can move things forward pretty fast from there.
I’ve already contacted a commercial contractor about the space.
I have the blueprints. So the only thing that I would really have to do is figure the new safety specs into the design for the new shop.
“Yeah,” she agrees.
I’m excited at the prospect of growing my business, but I hate that she turned it into a transaction.
No.
Not a transaction.
A trade.
I don’t want to keep a mental scorecard for who helps who out of whatever predicament we’re in, but again—I hold my silence. I’ll just have to show her that everything from me is real, is true, and that while I appreciate the help with the shop, it’s not expected.
How I’m going to do that is a whole different issue to tackle.
“We can go down to the county clerk on Wednesday,” I say, “to get the license and then maybe over to the courthouse after that? There’s no waiting period after we have the marriage license in Idaho, so we can get married the same day we apply for the license.”
She pulls her phone out of her pocket before toggling over to her calendar app. “Yeah, I can probably make Wednesday work.”
I reach out and brush an escaped strand of hair behind her ear.
The need to touch her while we plan our wedding—if planning a day to go to the courthouse counts as a wedding—rises in me.
If I had it my way, she’d have the wedding of her dreams. The fairytale dress, vows, and dancing under the stars.
But we can do that later. Once I make her fall in love with me, I’ll suggest that we renew our vows. Maybe for our first anniversary.
She looks up from her phone and nibbles the side of her lips. “We should probably set some ground rules.”
Of course she has stipulations. I figured she’d be ducking for whatever cover she can find now that she’s agreed to my plan. “What did you have in mind?”
“I—um—I know that we’re going to have to kiss and be a little more affectionate, but I’d like if we didn’t go all hot and heavy in public.” Her cheeks heat, and I’m pretty sure she isn’t completely repulsed by the idea of kissing me in public.
“That’s fine. I figure we can just do what we’re comfortable with as needed.” I shrug, unsure if I’m explaining the right way.
We’re already pretty affectionate. We hold hands, we hug, she’s comfortable in my arms. I’ve lost the battle of not touching her over the years and I’m glad for that closeness now.
Our friendship and my inability to keep my hands to myself have been an immersion therapy for her.
Like I told her, if there were ever two people to sell a fake marriage, we’re them.
“Are you moving in here?” she asks.
I scratch a hand through my beard. “I assumed I would. Melinda’s going to do home visits, right? For the case? It wouldn’t make sense if we were married and I didn’t live here.”
“You’re right. Okay, I’ll clear some space in the closet and the bathroom for you.” Her brows are pinched again.
“Hey. Mischief. Look at me.”
Worried eyes find mine. The stress and anxiety sitting visible in the green depths physically hurt me. I know this is big, and stressful, but I’ve never let her down a day in our lives, and I’m not going to start now.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ve thought a lot about this. You know that I’d never let anything happen to you or Piper right?”
She nods.
But she doesn’t believe me.
Challenge accepted, Mischief. I’ll show you this is real. That we’re real.
“Bull. Fucking. Shit.” Finch scoffs at me the next night. My brothers and I are gathered around the dinner table, open takeout boxes spread across the surface.
I roll my eyes, not surprised in the least.
“I …”
Rhett holds up his hand and finishes swallowing his own mouthful of food. “I’m with idiot over there. This is bullshit.”
I shake my head at them. Figures when I finally tell them I’m marrying the woman I’ve been in love with since before I knew what love was, they’d think I’m yanking their chains.
“It’s not. It’s true. Andy and I are getting married.”
Fuck.
It hits me again that we’re getting married. I want to run through the streets of Everette shouting the news at the top of my lungs.
Harlan’s penetrating stare sears me as I turn to him. He’s resigned and irritated. Being the oldest, he’s been cleaning up after us a lot longer than he hasn’t, and I can tell by the way he’s clenching his teeth right now that he thinks this is going to be another mess to clean up.
But he can’t fucking complain because he’s the one who gave me the idea in the first place.
“You’re telling me, that you convinced Andrea Donovan to marry your dumb ass?” Finch barks out a laugh.
“Is this the same Andy we know and love?” Boone asks.
“The savvy salon owner?” Duke asks, joining in on the fun.
“Piper’s aunt?” my dad asks.
“The smoking hot redhead with curves so sexy even a race car couldn’t handle them? That Andy?” Rhett asks with a toothy grin.
“Watch it,” I bite out. Is Rhett wrong? No. But I still won’t have him talking about her like that.
I’ve heard cruder out of his mouth, and I know he doesn’t mean it, that he’s just talking out his ass to get my goat.
Doesn’t mean I’ll stand for it.