Chapter 11
Warren Atwell’s Legal Briefs: Knowing the official words for clothing is imperative.
Putting the ring on Avery’s finger unlocked a part of me I did not know existed. I wanted to shout out into the courthouse that Avery was MINE, then beat my chest, shotgun a beer, and hunt a moose with my bare hands.
It was ridiculous. I was not an irrational person. I did not believe in marking a woman to claim her. And I certainly did not participate in public displays of affection.
But that ring.
Something about it clicked with me. Felt right.
My heart swelled as the judge proclaimed we were married and told me to kiss my bride.
My bride.
Mine.
I clutched Avery to me, then dipped her backward and planted a searing kiss on her mouth that took no quarter.
I traced the seam of her mouth with my tongue, silently begging her to allow me inside.
She complied, and my pants became unbelievably tighter.
I did not think. I did not worry. I only kissed the woman I married.
My wife.
She softened into my embrace, tilting her head to give me better access. She tasted like the apple pie we had with lunch. Her jasmine scent filled my nose and drugged my senses, demanding I pull her closer. In my arms, she felt like home.
I gently pulled her back to standing and set her on her feet. Then, I discreetly tried to get my raging erection to die down. It was nearly impossible next to this woman.
Mine.
Even thinking the word caused my dick to stiffen again. I wanted to take her from this courthouse and squirrel her away for a week. Far from our families and friends. Where no one knew our names and there were no expectations.
Judge Deming handed me the marriage license, which she and Officer Bodie signed. Then, Avery and I added our signatures.
“Congratulations, you two,” Judge Deming said. “I have a good feeling about you both. May you have a wonderful life together.”
Avery swallowed. “Thank you.”
I could only nod. Words escaped me at the moment.
Officer Bodie pressed a set of car keys into my hands, but they were not mine. “Sorry, man. The other car was dead. We had it towed to Pleasure Point for you. Someone named Callie came to pick it up.”
“That is my sister.” I nodded, then looked at Avery. “Shall we go home?”
She opened her mouth as if to say something but clamped her jaw shut. I held up the car keys. “I believe these are yours. Would you like me to drive us back?”
“Sure,” she said. “I’m kind of tired. And I don’t like driving in the rain.”
A flash of lightning lit up the room from outside as if to punctuate the moment. “I understand.”
We said our farewells to the judge and police officer, then dashed into the parking lot toward her car.
Thankfully, it was parked in the front row, so we didn’t have far to go, but the rain came down in buckets.
We were drenched by the time we reached the vehicle.
I insisted on opening her door first, dashed toward the driver’s side, and slid into the front seat.
Because Avery is a tall woman, I only needed to slide the seat back a little to get into a comfortable driving position.
Avery handed me a sweater from the backseat. “Sorry. No towels. This is the best I can do.”
“I do not want to ruin your clothing,” I said.
“It’s okay. Only a little water. It won’t ruin anything,” she said. “My hair might be another issue, though.” She snort-laughed as she squeezed the water out of her curls.
I patted my face and hair, then returned the sweater to her. “Let’s go home.”
I frowned at the sign in the middle of the road: “Road closed due to flooding.” This was the second road that had been flooded and closed.
As both of our phones were dead, I could only rely on the compass, which told me we were headed north.
I backed up and made a three-point turn to head the other way.
Avery dropped off to sleep in the passenger seat shortly after we left the courthouse.
I knew she did not get any rest the night before, not that I did either, but the slight darkening under her eyes indicated that she needed sleep.
Before taking off again, I perused her face.
Her damp hair curled around her face. Her soft lips were slightly parted in sleep.
And every now and then, a faint snuffle escaped from her.
I chuckled. I did not need to know Avery well to understand that she would not take kindly to me telling her she snored.
A crash of lightning and thunder brought me back to reality.
The rain came down in sheets, making visibility nearly impossible.
I gingerly pressed down the gas pedal and inched forward with the wipers on high.
It wasn’t helping anything. I sighed. It would be a long trip back to Pleasure Point at this speed, but I knew Avery was anxious to get home.
Home.
I needed to do some yoga breathing to stop the panic that welled up when I thought that word. Why was it bothering me so?
As the car crept along the dark county road, a brightly painted wooden sign captured my attention through the dimness.
Camp Quirkus - next right.
I barely had time to wonder about Camp Quirkus when the car sputtered and died.
I coasted to the side of the road and tried to restart the vehicle.
It was dead, and I did not think it was the battery.
I tapped the gas gauge on the dashboard.
It was on F, then suddenly swept toward the E, where it stayed.
Shit.
I put the car into park and glanced around.
There was nothing for miles. The only sign of life was the Camp Quirkus sign.
I blinked through the windshield. I could barely see a driveway about a hundred yards ahead of me on the right.
That must be the entrance. It was March, but perhaps this camp had full-time staffers or owners who lived there and could help us refuel and be on our way.
Avery’s soft snore ended in a loud snork, waking her up. She sat up in the seat, rubbing her eyes and looking around. “Are we there yet?”
“I am afraid not.” I pointed to the gas gauge. “We are out of gas.”
Her cheeks darkened. “Oh. Right. I forgot about that. Hey, by the way - the gas gauge doesn’t work well.”
“No kidding.”
“The compass is broken, too.”
“What?”
She winced. “Yeah. I had an electrical surge a few months ago. It knocked out the battery, which I replaced. But ever since, the compass has stayed on north. Weird, huh?”
Panic welled in my chest. If we were not going north, I had no idea where we were. “Avery. We are not only out of gas but also lost.”
Her head snapped to the side window, a solid sheet of rain and a stormy, black night behind it. “What the hell, Warren?”
“What the hell?” Anger bubbled in my veins. “What the hell? Your car is unsafe! That is what the hell.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “It’s only unsafe if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Avery. You should not be driving around in this broken vehicle! What if you run out of gas or get lost?”
“Funny, husband. Because the only time I’ve ever run out of gas or gotten lost is with you!”
I took a breath and stared at her. The anger dissipated quickly after she said husband. “You are correct.”
“And another thing,” Avery yelled, raising her finger. Then she paused. “Wait. What did you just say?”
“You are correct in your assessment of my driving skills.”
“Damn.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I was all worked up for a fight, and you took it right out of me.” Avery squinted at me. “Is that your lawyerly power?”
I smirked. “Maybe.”
She huffed out a breath, blowing the hair off her face. “Phones are still dead. Stuck in the middle of nowhere. It’s raining cats and dogs. I don’t want to walk for help in this, do you?”
“We may not have to travel far. There was a sign for a summer camp. The entrance is just there.” I pointed to the driveway through the windshield.
“Think anyone’s home?”
“Hope for the best?” I asked. “Do you have an umbrella, poncho, or other rain gear in this car?”
Avery unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over the center console. She was half in and out of the backseat with her backside in my face. It was round and tight. I gripped the steering wheel to stop myself from grabbing her waist and pulling her into my lap.
“Aha!” She shouted and returned to the front seat, handing me the most miniature umbrella I had ever seen.
“What is that?”
She wiggled it in my face. “Umbrella, duh.”
“That is not an umbrella. That is a nylon dog toy.”
“It’s bigger on the inside,” Avery snarked.
“That’s what she said,” I answered.
She punched me in the arm. “That’s the spirit, Hubby Bubby. Now, what do you say about getting this honeymoon adventure going?”
“Fine. I will take the umbrella and come around the other side to get you; that way, we don’t get soaked.”
She shrugged. “Fine by me.”
When I opened the car door, a wall of water immediately fell on my exposed head and side.
I punched the button on the side of the umbrella, and it opened.
The umbrella was larger than it looked, but it would not be enough to cover both of us.
I shook my head and exited the car, quickly maneuvering to the passenger side.
I held the umbrella over the side of the vehicle and opened the door for her.
She squealed as she hopped out, clutching her large purse to her chest. I shoved the umbrella handle into her hands, and we ran for the driveway ahead. When we were right at the gravel road, Avery stepped into a deep hole and went down to her knee.
“Shit!”
I grabbed her arm and tugged her back out. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Keep going!”
We slowed a little, watching for more holes in the driveway. I knew better than to drive or walk through a puddle in an unknown part of Florida. You never knew how deep the hole would be. That made me chuckle, but I kept the inappropriate jokes to myself.