Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“Shit.”
Linc looked at the wrinkled piece of paper he’d found in the pocket of the jeans he’d worn Friday night and nearly had a coronary.
Once he’d arrived home after his startling revelation with Britt, he’d started unpacking.
That wasn’t unusual. He typically unpacked right after returning from a trip because it bugged him to have a suitcase lying around in the way.
He’d empty his suitcase and toss his dirty clothes straight into the wash.
That way, the chore wasn’t hanging over his head.
Jake called him a neat freak, and maybe he was, but he liked things in their place. Nothing wrong with that.
This time, however, he didn’t unpack in the name of tidiness; he needed the distraction.
How the hell had he slept with the object of every one of his fantasies and not remembered?
Finding out they’d slept together had thrown him for a loop, but nothing could prepare him for the words written on a gilded piece of parchment with a logo for the Little Chapel of Blue Suede Shoes on the top.
What the hell kind of name is that for a chapel?
Apparently one that offers quickie marriages performed by an Elvis impersonator.
After a moment of heart palpitations, Linc started laughing.
This was obviously a joke. It had to be.
It was too ridiculous to be legit. Jake must’ve stuffed it into his pocket when he was in the shower.
The more he thought about it, the more sense that made.
Jake had to have orchestrated the entire thing.
Hell, knowing Zana, she was probably in on it too.
That was her signature on the certificate, after all.
Linc’s was pretty easy to forge. Zana’s, however, was too swirly to fake.
At least for him, and most certainly for Jake.
They probably hadn’t even slept together. He rubbed the back of his neck with a groan. God, he was so gullible.
Pulling out his phone, he fired off a text to Jake.
Linc
Well played, you asshole.
He was drafting a message to Britt when Jake’s reply came through.
Jake
Thank you. WTF are you talking about?
Linc rolled his eyes. Jake knew damn well what he was talking about.
Linc
The present you planted in my suitcase.
Jake
What present? Are you drinking again? Knew you were a lush.
That’s his comeback?
“Lame,” Linc muttered.
Linc
It doesn’t even look like my signature.
Okay, it did, but he wasn’t going to give Jake the satisfaction. Although, maybe Laurel had been the one to sign it. Being a grade-school teacher, she had perfect penmanship. Forging his signature would probably be a breeze.
Come to think of it…
Linc
Those were Laurel’s bra and panties, weren’t they?
Jake
THE FUCK DID YOU SAY?
Okay, that wasn’t the response he was expecting.
Linc
Didn’t you leave
The incoming call interrupted his typing.
“Hey, Jake, I?—”
“Why the fuck are you talking about my girl’s panties, Pierce? Do you have a death wish?”
“What? No, I?—”
“I’ll make this easy for you. Never speak of Laurel’s underwear again. Don’t even think about it unless you want my fist in your face. Got that?”
Damn, he’s pissed.
Jake definitely hadn’t left Laurel’s underwear.
“Sorry. I made a mistake. Swear to God, I thought you were punking me.”
“What?”
“I thought it was a setup,” Linc explained. “The whole sleeping-with-a-mystery-woman thing. I didn’t mean to disrespect Laurel, okay? I apologize.”
“You really think I’d want another guy seeing her underwear?”
After that reaction?
“No. Of course not. I’m sorry. After I found the certificate, I just assumed?—”
“What’re you talking about?” Although Jake’s voice still held an annoyed edge, he’d at least calmed down. “What certificate?”
Shit.
If Jake wasn’t pulling some elaborate joke, did that mean the certificate was…
“Real?” The possibility hit like a wave he didn’t see coming. The kind that knocked you over and pulled you under the surf.
“What’s real?” Jake asked.
Jesus, did I say that out loud?
Suddenly feeling dizzy, Linc plopped down on the bed. “Nothing.”
It can't be real. “The Little Chapel of Blue Suede Shoes?” I mean, c’mon.
Still, he couldn’t say anything to Jake. Not until he confirmed the certificate was fake. With a name like that, it had to be. Right?
Jake scoffed. “Dude, you need to stop drinking.”
Fuck, did we get married?
“I’ve got to go.” Linc hung up before Jake could say anything else. He immediately opened a Google search and nearly stopped breathing when the results popped up.
“‘If an Elvis-themed wedding is Always on Your Mind,’” he read aloud, “‘The Little Chapel of Blue Suede Shoes is the venue for you! Conveniently located near the Las Vegas Strip, it offers…’”
Holy shit! It’s an actual place.
Zana’s going to lose it.
Even though he didn’t believe in marriage, Britt did.
Getting married was a huge deal to her. Like, huge.
And getting divorced in her family was akin to selling your soul to the devil.
The stories Britt and Dex had told him about their mom’s epic freakout over Dex’s divorce was the stuff nightmares were made of.
Linc dropped his phone onto the bed. He stared at the wedding certificate innocently perched on his nightstand and speared his fingers through his dark hair.
We’re married?
How is that even possible?
How did I sleep with a goddess and not remember?
Shit.
It’s possible.
He pulled off his glasses so he couldn’t make out the words on the offensive certificate.
“Fuck me.”
How the hell am I going to tell her?