Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Rain
I get out of my truck and slam the door, making both men look my way.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say as I approach them.
“You’re fine,” Mr. Cohen says.
“Thank you for coming and doing this. I know we could have done it ourselves, but with this being legal, we didn’t want there to be any questions,” I tell him.
“I appreciate how seriously you are taking this, Miss Wilson.”
Ridge steps toward me, and when he leans in to kiss my cheek, I have to stop myself from tensing.
Did he really just kiss my cheek? We don’t have to pretend, yet I feel like that is what he is doing.
“Hey, sweetheart. You ready to do this?” he asks, completely unfazed.
Ready to do this.
This being us getting married and spending the next two years living together and another one separated. Am I ready?
Meek offered to officiate the wedding for us, but I couldn’t let that happen. It’s bad enough that they know this is happening. The last thing I wanted was for our friends to have a front seat to this sham of a marriage.
I will never get married for real, but that doesn’t mean I want to celebrate a fake marriage either.
“Let’s do it,” I tell him.
Mr. Cohen chuckles. “Eager. I like it. I was just going over the vows with your future husband. Would you like me to run through them with you before we get started?”
“I’m good,” I say quickly, and if Ridge’s expression is anything to go by, a little too quickly.
The three of us walk over and stand next to the creek, forming a triangle. Ridge holds out his hands to me, making me frown before I realize what he wants.
It’s typical to hold hands as you recite your vows. He wants to hold my hand. My stomach is in knots as reality sinks in.
I am about to marry this man.
When I place my hands in his, I’m pleasantly surprised. I don’t know why I expected them to be clammy like mine, but they aren’t. No, his hands are steady and warm. Grounding.
“Ready?” Mr. Cohen asks.
“Ready,” Ridge and I say in unison.
Mr. Cohen jumps right in. As he goes through the spiel, my mind spirals.
I’m doing this. Not only am I getting married, but I’m marrying Ridge. Or should I call him by his legal name?
Adam Harris.
I’m brought out of it as Ridge shakes my hands a little. I look over and see Mr. Cohen looking at me expectantly.
I look back to Ridge, who mouths, “I do.”
“I do,” I repeat.
“For the best part now. You may kiss your bride!”
Kiss. Your. Bride.
Fuck.
I never even thought about the fact that I would have to kiss him.
Ridge steps forward and grabs me as I’m frozen. He dips me away from Mr. Cohen and dips his face close to mine. I close my eyes as I wait for the kiss that never comes. Instead, he rubs the tip of his nose against mine before setting me upright.
Did he just Eskimo kiss me?
“Let’s sign the papers, and then you can be on your way,” Mr. Cohen says, leading us over to the hood of his car.
It takes only a few minutes for us to sign the papers. When it’s all done, the lawyer grabs them and puts them in a folder.
“I’ll get this filed so that you are officially married.
Congratulations. I know it might not have started on the best terms, but I hope you find happiness over the next couple of years.
I will be in touch as we have some things to hash out with the trust, but overall, we are done.
I shouldn’t need to see either of you for two years,” he tells us.
“Thank you, Mr. Cohen.” Ridge holds out his hand and shakes it.
“Of course. I’m only a call away should you need me.”
We stand there and watch him leave before Ridge turns to me.
“I know we said no celebrations, especially since Aspen and Maggie are going to want to do something, but I don’t feel right just letting you go home. Can we go get dinner together?” he asks, looking unsure.
“We don’t have to do this. We can live together without all of this,” I remind him.
“That sounds like a really lonely two years, Rain. I don’t want to feel like a stranger who just shares four walls with you.
Or feel like I have to walk on tiptoes around you.
Can we come to some sort of agreement? You can still hate me.
Call me names. Be yourself, but maybe we can sometimes have dinner together?
Try to make this as pleasant as possible. ”
There is a hopeful tone in his voice, one that I’m not sure I want to acknowledge. I never even considered that when we got married, he would want to spend time together.
He’s right, though. I don’t want to feel uncomfortable in my home either, and avoiding one another will only cause discomfort.
“Okay. Dinner.”
“How about we drop off your truck at the clubhouse and then ride together? You can ride on the back of my bike again.”
It’s tempting—so tempting—but I’m not ready for what that means yet.
“How about we take my truck instead,” I offer.
I watch as the corner of his eye twitches, but he nods.
“Sounds good to me.”
He walks over to his bike and gets on as I jump into the truck. I wait for him to pull out in front of me, and I follow behind him. It takes fifteen minutes to get to the clubhouse. When he jumps into the truck, the cab instantly feels smaller.
“Your truck is a mess,” he says as he kicks a wrapper on the floorboard, and I start to drive toward the resturant.
“Hey, if you are going to judge me, we can cancel this marriage now.”
“No going back now,” he murmurs.
“Not wrong,” I mutter, knowing the lawyer has likely already filed the marriage certificate.
“So when do you want to move in?”
I cringe at the thought of moving in with him. It’s weird thinking about moving in with another man, especially so soon after losing my old man.
Then again, maybe after I move into his place, I’ll actually be able to get some sleep.
No one talks about how hard it is living in a house when you know a loved one died in those four walls.
I almost feel as if his ghost is haunting me.
What’s a bigger mind fuck is that some days I’m perfectly fine.
I can walk through the door just like I did when I was a kid.
But then, on other days, it’s like my feet are weighed down.
It sounds so ridiculous that I don’t even know how to properly explain it, so I keep it to myself.
“Rain, you with me?”
I shake my head. “Yeah, sorry. I zoned out. When do you want me to move in?”
“I mean, you probably should soon in case Mr. Cohen comes around, but if you need a little bit of time, I can probably come up with an excuse to buy you some time.”
I want to tell him that I want to prolong it as long as possible, but don’t. I might as well get this over with as soon as possible.
“No, you’re right. We should just do this. I’ll pack some things, and I’ll bring them over.”
“Cool. It won’t take me long, but I’ll need to make a trip to the store before you come over. I’ll make you a key while I’m out…”
“Stock up on your things. Smart.” I nod.
“Well, that, but I want to pick up some of your favorite things as a thank you for doing this.”
“You want to pick up my favorites? Like what?” I ask, heart racing.
I don’t know the last time someone bought me something other than my dad. Does he really know me that well to know what I would buy?
“Those mini Reese’s you like, the Kettle Krinkle Cut dill pickle chips, chocolate-covered nuts, and a shitload of fresh fruit,” he says as I pull into the resturant parking lot.
“Wait, you know that I like those things?” I ask as I put the truck in park.
“Well, yeah.”
“How?” I ask in disbelief.
Ridge raises an eyebrow. “I’ve known you for years. I know you.”
“You know you don’t have to do that, right?”
He shrugs. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”
“What else do you know?” I ask, turning to face him.
“You have horrible fucking cramps and will drink a whole jar of pickle juice to ease the pain. Your dad used to laugh about the fact that you take short showers. He said you were the only female he knew who didn’t spend an hour or more in the shower each day.”
“I like to get in and get out. There’s no point in just hanging out in there,” I murmur.
How? How does he know all of this? I try to think of something I know about him outside of what beer he likes, but my mind comes up blank.
“Exactly. Like I said, I know you,” he says as he reaches for the door handle.
Yeah, I’m starting to realize that he does.
Ridge
Sitting across from her, I look down at the menu.
“Everything looks good,” she murmurs.
“Are you going to get the appetizer platter?”
Her head comes up, and she frowns.
“How did you know that?”
“You like getting apps instead of ordering a full meal. That way you can have a little bit of everything,” I point out.
Her mouth drops open slightly, and it’s clear that she’s caught off guard.
I like it.
Every time I point out something I know about her, she becomes speechless. She gets this little line between her eyebrows as she tries to figure out how I know what I know.
I could tell her about all the talks I had with Mustang and how I’ve watched her over the years, but where’s the fun in that?
She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it when the waitress comes over to take our order. Only when she walks away does Rain speak.
“You know a lot about me,” she says quietly.
“I’ve known you a long time.”
She starts to fiddle with her straw wrapper.
“I don’t know a lot about you,” she admits.
“Well, you never had a reason to get to know me. You’ll learn, though.” I shrug.
Do I wish she had paid attention to me as much as I paid attention to her? Yeah, and it’s kind of a bruise to my ego, but I let it go. I mean, I only ever paid attention to her because she was Mustang’s daughter.
Although, if I am being honest with myself, she has grown into an amazing woman. It was like one day I looked at her, and she was no longer the seventeen-year-old girl who tried to flirt with me. She was a woman.
Still, I kept my distance. I had to. Mustang was like a father to me. I couldn’t mess with his daughter, even if she intrigued me.
Then again, now with Mustang’s blessing and with the forced proximity, maybe—just maybe—I could convince her to give me a chance.
Do I want that, though?
I like Rain. I always have, even when she’s being a bitch.
She’s one of those girls who doesn’t give a fuck about what others think.
She is who she is, and that’s it. There is no fakeness with her.
Not only that, but Rain is sassy and spunky as hell.
She always keeps me on my toes, and I don’t want to even think about how fun it could be if we were on the same team.
As tempting as it is to pursue this, would it be the right thing? We have to stay married for two years. That’s a long time to spend with someone, and the risk of ruining shit is high. It would be smarter to play it safe. To keep my distance and let her call the shots.
But the temptation will only grow once we are living under the same roof.
“Okay, so you have a bedroom for me. What do I need to bring?” she asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Whatever you want to make yourself comfortable. I have a mattress that’s only been used a couple of times when people have stayed over, but I don’t know how comfortable it is. The bathroom you’ll use is stocked with towels.”
“Okay, cool.” She nods.
“You’ll need to bring your electric blanket for sure.”
Her face flashes with annoyance, not liking that I know something else about her that I shouldn’t.
“Good to know,” she mutters.
I wait for her to ask about me, to try to get to know me, but in true Rain fashion, she doesn’t. Instead, she bites her tongue so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if she could taste copper.
Fuck is she adorable. She looks like a pressure cooker about to explode.
Her phone dings on the table, and she grabs it fast.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I texted the girls asking them to meet me tomorrow,” she mutters.
“That’s smart. I’ll wait to tell the guys until tomorrow, then.”
She makes a quiet scoffing sound as she turns her phone face down and pushes it away from her.
“So how does it feel to be married?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.
“Normal, but weird. Like I feel the same, but I know things have changed.”
“And you hate change,” I add when she trails off.
“That I do. What about you? How do you feel?”
Her question catches me off guard. Not because it’s random, but because I wasn’t expecting her to ask me anything.
“It’s like you said. I’m sure it will hit me, though, when we move your stuff in. I’ve lived alone since I was eighteen, so it’s definitely going to be an adjustment.”
“I’ll try to stay out of your way.”
Before she can even finish her sentence, I start shaking my head.
“No, I don’t want you to do that. I want you to treat my place like it’s yours.
Do what makes you feel comfortable and all of that shit.
Leave your shoes on the living room floor, leave dishes in the sink for later, whatever you usually do.
Otherwise, it will be awkward as fuck living together for two years. ”
She laughs softly under her breath. “You’re going to end up regretting saying that. I’m a fucking mess.”
A beautiful mess, I think to myself.
The server comes back with our food, and we eat together, making light conversation. It’s nice. Almost normal. Then, when we finish eating, Rain drives me back to the clubhouse.
“I’ll call when I’m on my way over,” she says as she comes to a stop next to my bike.
“Don’t worry about calling. I’ll be there waiting,” I tell her.
“Oh. Okay.”
“Do you want me to go grab my truck? Help you bring boxes and shit over?” I ask.
Rain shakes her head. “No, I still need to pack, so it will be a while. Honestly, I probably won’t bring anything over until tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I say as I get out of the truck. “Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
She doesn’t even wait for me to step away from the truck before she pulls away, making me shake my head.
She’s not going to make this easy. Not by a long shot. That’s okay, though. I’ve always liked a challenge.