Chapter Eleven
Christian
I am an idiot. An inconsiderate, conniving, selfish idiot .
Never before has a sense of worthlessness permeated my entire being so rapidly. And that’s saying something, considering Kent Price has berated me repeatedly for nearly my whole life. But standing here, looking at the utter vision that is Roxy in a wedding dress, has me kicking myself. Hard.
I shouldn’t be the one standing in front of her about to say sacred freaking vows. I shouldn’t be afforded the opportunity to hold her soft hands and gaze into her dark green, glittering eyes. It should be someone who will love her and cherish her. Someone who can give her what every little girl dreams of on her wedding day. I’m stealing this moment from her, yet I can’t bring myself to stop it from happening.
Because I need her.
Sure, she needs me too, but her reasons are so much more noble than mine. She’s trying to keep her nephew, while I’m just furthering my own agenda. Thoughts of Grandfather surface, reminding me that’s not entirely true.
Still, guilt settles low in my gut as I gently squeeze her hands. One of her dark eyebrows raises slightly before her attention swings back to the judge. She begins reciting vows that thankfully get drowned out by the deafening rush of blood in my ears. My focus zones out on the sparkling sequins of her dress, the silk that seems to gather in every curve yet glides over her body like it was made specifically for her. I've never been so satisfied with a purchase.
It doesn’t help that seeing her like this, knowing we’ll be bound in holy matrimony, resurrects some primal protective urge inside me. It's an unfamiliar and foreign feeling. Because this is a business arrangement . Didn’t I just remind her of that a minute ago? So why does every masculine cell in my body roar with the need to claim Roxy as mine ? My wife. Swallowing that unhelpful desire before an inhuman growl rips from my throat, I work my mouth into a practiced smile and slip the ring onto her finger as instructed.
Her breathy gasp as she stares down at the solitaire diamond gives me hope that I at least got the ring right. My finger burns against the cool metal band she slides over my knuckle. It's gold and appears well-worn. A family heirloom, perhaps? My conscience revolts against the idea that she'd give me something so meaningful, but I can't bring it up now. I'll have to ask her about it later.
Her bright eyes stay glued to mine as she finishes her vows. As soon as the words I do leave her lips, I swallow.
“All right, Mr. Price,” says the judge with the thick twitching mustache. “Your turn.”
I nod and clear my throat, readying my voice for its most important moment ever. I repeat what I’m told like some kind of robot. Am I sweating? My hands suddenly feel clammy, and I wonder if Roxy’s cringing under my touch.
The judge raises his voice on the last phrase, breaking me from my robotic trance. “...so long as you both shall live.”
“I do.” My tongue goes dry. Swells. Makes me wonder if I might need a shot of epinephrine.
“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.” The man’s mustache curls along with his pearly-white smile. “You may now kiss your bride.”
Roxy’s wide eyes blink up at me. Expectant. Searching. Questioning. I told her we needed to sell this to make it believable, but I also said I wouldn’t touch her against her will. But it somehow slipped my mind to bring this moment up.
The judge clears his throat. His bushy eyebrows arch in question.
Right. We’re going for convincing here.
Locking eyes with Roxy, I slowly bring my hand to her face. I can’t very well ask her if I can kiss her in front of the judge signing off on our sham marriage. All I can do is pray that my eyes offer up enough apologies that she’ll forgive me for overstepping. But to my surprise, she leans in. And up. Presses against me, allowing me access to her perfectly peach lips.
In response, I nudge her face closer with my thumb and make up the distance between us. My lips meet hers. Tentatively. Exploring just far enough for me to be able to taste the barest hint of watermelon gum on her breath. My hand instinctively settles on her waist at the same time she breaks contact. Inwardly, I cringe. I shouldn’t have been so wrapped up in the moment.
“Witnessing true love never gets old,” the judge says with a wink, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “I wish you two the best.”
With our very real, very binding marriage certificate in hand, Roxy and I exit the judge's chambers. Before we reach the lobby, I stop her by placing a hand on her arm.
“Hey. I’m sorry about that back there.”
A little divot forms between her brows as she turns to me. “What are you talking about?”
“The kiss.” My fingers twitch at my side with the memory of touching her face and pulling her in.
“I shouldn’t have done that without asking you first.”
Instead of fuming like I expect her to, she laughs. “Chris, come on. I knew that was coming.”
“You did?”
The look she gives me is almost scolding. “I mean, sure, we didn’t talk about it beforehand, but we both agreed to do this, right? A kiss is kinda standard for a wedding .”
I breathe a relieved sigh. “Right. Yeah, you’re right.”
“Are you okay?” She reaches out as if to touch me but must think better of it since her hand drops to her side. “You look a little pale.”
“Me? I’m fine.” And because I’m not at all fine after the kiss we shared, my voice cracks like I’m thirteen. I clear my throat and deepen my voice. “Seriously, I’m good. I just wanted to make sure you were good.”
“I’m good.”
“Great.” I clap my hands together like an idiot. “Glad we’re all good here.”
She lifts her hand and eyes the ring I gave her with a frown. "I do wish you wouldn't have spent so much on this, though."
"It was nothing," I assure her. "And what about this?" I raise the back of my hand to her line of sight. "Something tells me I don't deserve it."
Her lips lift in a small smile. "It was my dad's. I'm just glad it fits."
"Roxy—"
"Chris, please." Her pleading gaze holds mine. "Just keep it. For now."
"You're sure?" There's so much more I'd like to ask her, but now isn't the right time.
"I promise." She hooks her arm through mine, looking by all accounts like she wants to drop the subject. The second we step out of the hall, Chantelle and Holt rush us. “It’s the newlyweds!”
A shower of glittery confetti unleashes into the air, pelting me in the face and getting caught in my mouth. Chantelle winces when I spit a piece onto the floor. “Oops, sorry.” Chantelle’s bubbly giggles shake her shoulders. “My excitement got a little away from me there.”
“I’m gonna have to clean that up, aren’t I?” Holt crosses his arms and eyes her with one eyebrow raised.
“Aw, so sweet of you to volunteer.” Chantelle pats him like she might a cute puppy, then links her arm with Roxy’s and ushers her away, whispering, “Now, tell me all about how it went.”
I shake my head and chuckle as Holt steps forward. “Everything go okay?”
I hold up the marriage certificate with a smile. “Looks like it.”
“No... hiccups ?” Holt’s good eye seems to bore into my soul.
“None to speak of.” I run a hand down my tie, loosening it a bit. “I forgot to make sure it was okay with her that we kissed, though.”
“Did she freak?”
I blow out a breath and run a hand through my hair, watching as Chantelle sweeps Roxy outside. “Thankfully, no.”
He gives me a slow nod. “And?”
“And...what?”
His lips quirk into a smile. “And how was it? The kiss, I mean.”
I swallow, not at all wanting to talk about it. But he won’t quit asking until I at least say something halfway truthful. So I settle on, “Too good to be fake.”
Before I can witness the stupid grin I’m convinced will be plastered on his face, I shove past him and call over my shoulder, “Hey, thanks for cleaning up the confetti.”
When I step outside, the sun’s bright rays hit my face, bathing me in warmth. Roxy and Chantelle stand near the curb where my bike is parked, murmuring back and forth.
For a second, I just stare. I thought Roxy glowed like pure gold in the courthouse, but out here in the sunlight, she shines . Her dark hair and tan skin radiate the same kind of warmth I felt when I kissed her. It takes way more effort than it should to remind my body that while it’s allowed to be attracted to my fake wife, it is not allowed to touch her. Even with Roxy’s permission, it would do us both well if I kept my distance while we’re alone. Because that kiss…It was enough to make me want more.
I head toward the girls and offer them a smile. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” Roxy says. “If you guys are.”
“Wait!” Chantelle shrieks. “We need to get some pictures. You guys didn’t get all fancy for nothing.”
Roxy releases a breathy chuckle. “True. This dress is too beautiful not to be immortalized in a photograph.” Her gaze lowers as she runs her hands over her waist. The urge to tell her that she should be immortalized in a photograph is right on the tip of my tongue.
“Okay, guys. Scootch together.” Chantelle motions for us to move toward one another, so we do. Slowly. Awkwardly. “Chris, put your arm around Roxy and act like you love her.”
Roxy fiddles with a hair that’s escaped her veil as her shoulders shake with silent laughter. I slip my arm around her waist and draw her closer.
“Nice,” Chantelle says, snapping a few pictures. “Now face each other.”
I raise an eyebrow at my spunky female friend, but she only mimics the gesture right back.
Roxy faces me first and splays her hands against the front of my suit coat. “This good?”
Chantelle hums. “Kick your heel back, Roxy, and lay your head against his chest.”
She does so, molding her body to mine. It’s hard not to stiffen at the contact. Not because I don’t want to be touching Roxy, but because I most definitely do and shouldn’t.
“Now, Chris,” Chantelle continues. “Look into Roxy’s eyes.”
I obey, attempting to keep a straight face. But when the beginnings of a smile crinkle the corners of Roxy’s eyes, my resolve cracks.
“Chris,” Chantelle chides. “You’re not supposed to be laughing. This is a romantic moment.”
Roxy bursts out in a giggle, then we’re both shaking uncontrollably. Her hands lower to my forearms and she rests her head against my bicep. “I can’t, Chantelle. This is too ridiculous.”
When we finally catch our breath, Chantelle marches up. “You two are insufferable.” Her fingers fly across her phone’s screen before she turns it toward us. “At least I got a couple of good ones.” Surprisingly, the images staring back at me are incredibly picturesque for where we are and what we are to one another.
“Wow,” Roxy says, meeting my eyes. “Those actually look…real.”
A pang of…something pulses inside me, but I brush it aside and smile. “Yeah, they do. Nice work, Chantelle.”
“That was all you two.” My friend winks at Roxy, a little too suggestively for my taste.
“Now that that’s covered,” I say, turning to Roxy. “Are we ready?”
She bobs her head in the affirmative and I gesture toward my bike.
“All right, then. Let’s go.”
Chantelle scurries off to her car with Roxy’s bouquet while Holt exits the courthouse and hops on his bike. Chantelle’s going to the hotel to make sure everything is set for the party, and Holt’s meeting us there later. It’s the perfect opportunity to take Roxy on the long ride she requested. I’ve already decided to let her be my backpack any time she wants. It only feels fair for all that she’s giving up to help me.
I step up to my bike and grab the helmet I bought for Roxy. When I turn, she’s standing a few feet away, eyeing my bike with what looks like second thoughts running through her head.
“Um, are you sure this is okay? In my dress?” She grabs a handful of the fabric at her thigh.
My gaze clings to where the fabric pulls tight around her hips. I clear my throat. “You should be fine. After you climb on, just tuck the ends of the skirt around your thighs as best you can. With you up against my back, no one will see anything anyway.” She gives a decisive nod and steps forward. I hold the helmet out to her. “Safety first.”
She carefully lifts it over her head, and I suppress a laugh at the way her veil hangs out underneath it. When her fingers fumble a bit with the chin strap, I move in. “Here, let me.”
She stills, allowing me to tighten it for her. My fingers brush the underside of her jaw, and if I was paying close attention to her reaction, I might say she shivers a bit at the contact. But I’m not paying close attention. Or at least…trying not to.
This is fake. I repeat, This. Is. Fake.
“There you go,” I say, stepping back. “I’ll get on first, then help you on.”
I do just that, slipping on my own helmet first, then unbuttoning my suit coat so I’m able to move freely. Once I’m on and centered, I flip up the kickstand and back the bike away from the curb. “All right, I’m ready for you.”
I reach out a hand to her as she hefts herself up behind me. It takes her a few minutes of wiggling around and adjusting her skirt before she places both hands on my shoulders. “Okay. I think I’m good.”
I twist around as much as I can to face her. “Can you hear me okay?”
“Whoa.” She laughs. “That was weird. You’re in my head.”
I smile. “Technically, I’m in your helmet. Ours are synced up so we can communicate during the ride.”
“Oh, nice.”
“We’ll be cruising mostly, but when I pick up speed, it’d be best if you hung on to my waist.” The black and chrome behemoth underneath us is a cruiser; it’s more for joyriding the city streets. But if I do get to go full throttle, she’ll feel safer if she hangs on.
My system is immediately overloaded when she wraps her slender arms around me. “Like this?”
I swallow. “Maybe a little tighter.”
She snakes her hands even further around my waist, palms flat against my dress shirt. “This better?”
No. It’s worse. So much worse . “Perfect,” I rasp, a little unevenly. I crank the throttle, and she startles, squeezing me tighter. “You still good?”
“Yeah. I think it’s just some leftover adrenaline from what we just did.”
What we just did? Does that mean our kiss affected her as much as it did me?
“I still can’t believe we went through with it,” she says with a breathy laugh.
My stomach plummets. She meant marriage, Chris. Marriage . “It’s all going to be okay, Roxy. We’re in this together, remember?”
At my reassurance, she eases back a bit. “You’re right. We got this.”
Despite the way my chest tightens, I smile. Her positivity in light of her circumstances simultaneously gives me hope and heaps a load of responsibility onto my shoulders. She’s not only praying for a good outcome in all of this, but she’s putting her faith in me—someone she barely knew a week ago. But I can’t think of all that right now. This ride is supposed to be for her, a gift after pledging her future to me. I can’t let her down.
“All right, hang on.” I pat her thigh to let her know we’re taking off.
She clings to me as we pull away, then after a few minutes, leans back against the backrest. “Oh my gosh, this feels amazing.”
“Yeah?” The tightness in my chest ebbs at hearing the laughter in her voice.
“Yes. It’s been so long since I’ve been on the back of a bike.” I feel more than see her arms stretch out on either side of her. A giggle echoes through the mic. “I need this like, every single day.”
My own smile widens. “Want to go faster?”
I’d planned on this being a joyride, but the way she’s loving it makes me want to give her an experience she won’t forget. Stefany always hated motorcycles, claiming she wouldn’t be caught dead on one. And I get it, they’re not for everybody. But Roxy’s excitement makes me wish I hadn’t wasted time on a woman who didn’t enjoy similar things.
“Yes, please.” Roxy’s breathless response paired with the way she leans into me, tightening her hold on my waist, has me grinning like an idiot. I twist the throttle and open her up, then we’re weaving through traffic and heading toward the hills. Roxy’s laugh is carefree, a little wild and reckless, just like the way hearing it makes me feel.
“There’s something I’d like to show you,” I say. “You up for it?”
“We won’t be late for the party?”
“We’re the guests of honor. It won’t matter if we’re a little late, right?”
She hums. “Guess not. All right. Lead the way, Mr. Price.”
My blood heats at the way she addresses me. It shouldn’t. She’s called me Mr. Price before. But before I didn’t know what her lips felt like— tasted like. Now that I do, hearing her call me Mr. Price does something to me. For me.
I shake the thought loose, directing my focus where it should be—to getting us out of town. Taking her to a spot I’ve only ever been to with the guys. And the redirect works…for a while. Until I gain speed so quickly, the wind whips the buttons right off my dress shirt. Whoops.