Miles #2
Her ruby brushes against my fingertips as I curl my hand around hers, reminding me of what we’re about to do, like it was made for this moment.
And I can confidently say that, regardless of all the shit waiting for me in England because of what we’re about to do, I don’t think there’s anywhere else I’d want to be.
As I push my other hand into my pocket, my fist curls around the velvet box I slipped in earlier. Before we head to the courtroom, I remove it from my pocket and tug Ruby to face me.
“I have something for you.”
Ruby’s eyes pop when I open the box and she peers down to the delicate band set with diamonds, something else I purchased yesterday. It occurred to me—when the sales assistant asked what our bands were like—that she should also have an official one for the ceremony.
“It’s for the vows.”
I wait while her cheeks turn that unique shade of “Ruby” pink. I’m tempted to ask her if she’s thinking about last night when I slipped her engagement ring onto her finger, but Story interrupts my train of thought, waving a little ticket at me with the number 181 on it.
“You guys are up next.”
“How prosaic,” I say, easing it out of her grip. I was so focused on Ruby that I didn’t even notice the three of them next to me.
“Can I see?” asks Max, and I hold it out to him, but all he offers up is “hmm.”
“Exactly, Maxy.”
“So are you going to be my aunt?”
Ruby glances down at him, and something flashes across her face, like she’s just realizing that marrying me comes with more than she’s signing on for.
I’m tempted to tell her to run, because it’s much harder to explain the Burlingtons and Valentine Nook than it is to show them firsthand. But it’ll be too late by then.
Crouching down so she’s eye to eye with him, she replies, “Yes, I guess I am. Is that okay with you?”
“I think so.” Max nods, then gets a look in his eye that I know means trouble. “Are you going to give me a cousin? I’d like a boy, though—”
Hendricks slaps a hand over Max’s mouth before he can continue. “Okay, Maxy, one step at a time.”
The smile drops from Ruby’s face, and I swear I see fear in her eyes when she stands back up. I don’t know whether to be insulted.
“Separate bedrooms, remember?” I whisper, leaning in.
Ruby splutters a response I don’t catch, and Story drops her head to hide her amusement.
“One eighty-one.”
The announcement over the tannoy pulls us all back to the present, and Hendricks nudges me in the ribs. “You’re up.”
Ruby places her hand in mine again, and together we walk into courtroom B, flanked by Hendricks, Story, and Max, and stand in front of the judge—a small, bespectacled, gray-haired woman sipping from a mug of coffee with the words Pucker Up, Buttercup written across an illustration of two flowers kissing.
She barely looks at us as she barks out her request for the marriage license, which we give her, ready to be stamped with a big red seal, and our choice of very basic legal wording for the vows from which, to my great amusement, Ruby scribbled out the word “obey.”
“All set?” she asks, her tone filled with boredom.
I stare at Ruby, search her face for any indication that she wants to back out and stay here in Aspen. I see nothing but a wide, beautifully open face covered in freckles as she stares back at me. Is she searching for the same in me? Is she expecting me to back out?
How long would it take me to count them?
Eventually, I turn back to the judge. “Yes, ma’am. We’re ready.”
“Have you got the rings?”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the box with the wedding rings I bought with Ruby’s ruby. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” she says, and puts her coffee down. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she points at me. “You, repeat after me. I—”
“I—”
She peers over her glasses. “Honey, this will go quicker if you let me get the whole sentence out. Speak when I tell you.”
I nod.
“Okay, I . . .” Her gaze drops down to the paper with our names on it, and she chuckles.
“Whoa, that’s a mouthful. Let’s start again.
I, Miles Barnaby William Burlington, take you .
. .” She glances down again. “Ruby Jane Lanson . . . ooh, that’s better, honey, much simpler . . . to be my lawful wedded wife.”
The judge nods. I’m tempted to ask her whether I’m to repeat it verbatim, but I think it’ll only piss her off, so I take out the added commentary, stare directly into Ruby’s eyes, and say only what’s necessary.
“To love, honor, and cherish—”
“To . . . er . . . love, honor, and cherish.” My heart beats faster with every lie I’m telling, because while I wholeheartedly admit I can be a dick, I never lie.
I don’t see the point. It doesn’t get you anywhere. And I’m not very good at it.
But I continue and follow it up with another.
“Until death do us part.”
“Now put the ring on her finger.” It’s at this point that she catches sight of Ruby’s engagement ring. “Jeez Louise, you could black someone’s eye with that.”
Ruby ignores her, too focused on what I’ll do this time if it doesn’t fit.
The skin at the base of her throat hammers like Morse code, and I’m tempted to repeat last night, just for the reaction.
But today the ring slips on perfectly. Ruby commences with her portion of our vows and breezes through them with barely a blink about making promises she won’t keep.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.” The judge picks up her coffee and sits back, taking a loud slurp. “This is where you kiss. And make it a good one, marriage only goes downhill from here.”
Behind me, Hendricks snorts, and even Ruby’s lips quiver in amusement.
I don’t know what to do. The judge stares like she’s waiting for a show, and in any normal circumstances, she’d get one. Max is peering up at us, and he may as well be holding a looking glass from the scrutiny I feel under his gaze.
Jesus, I’ve never been so hesitant to kiss a beautiful woman.
“Well? What are you waitin’ for, boy? Kiss yer wife.”
So I do.
Stepping into her space, I take her face in my hands.
Her skin’s as soft as it looks, and I hope the calluses on my palms don’t scratch her.
I know we’re being peer pressured into this, but I don’t want Ruby to do anything she doesn’t want to, and that includes kissing her new husband.
Time stretches out as I lean in slowly and wait for her to tell me no.
It doesn’t come.
Instead, she mutters something indecipherable but sounds a lot like “get on with it,” grips the front of my shirt, and pulls me to her.
My mouth surrounds hers, and I fight the urge to keep it chaste, but need wins out and my tongue slips past her lips. Peppermint bursts on my taste buds from the gum she’s chewing, and I feel her boobs pressed against me, setting off a spiral of thoughts I won’t forget in a hurry.
Somewhere along the way, her hands loosen on my shirt and slip up my chest, past my collar, and move into my nape, scratching through my curls. The band of her engagement ring is barely warm under my skin, but it heats my whole body.
I’ve always thought I can take or leave kissing—it’s a means to an end. But Ruby’s changing my opinion on many things today, including this. This kiss is something I can get behind. It’s something I could get addicted to.
We stay fused, our mouths moving together like we’ve been doing this for years, have a lifetime of knowing what each of us wants, what turns us on.
More disturbingly, I want to know the answers to those questions, and based on the soft moan echoing down my throat, so does she.
It’s Max loudly whispering, “Daddy, how long is Uncle Miles going to be kissing?” that pulls us back to reality and brings much-needed levity to the situation.
She steps back. “We’re done.”
I take pride in Ruby’s gravelly voice and high amusement in how she won’t look at me.
Only my hold stops her from wobbling over. She’s glassy-eyed and blinking furiously, looking as perplexed as I am at the hotness of our kiss. Her eyes drop to my groin, and the semi she felt rubbing against her, and the smirk she sends my way has my dick harder than if she’d stroked my balls.
We walk out to the sound of “one eighty-two” being yelled into the tannoy, and I look around to see a couple wrapped in each other, barely coming up for air.
I’m not sure how they can see where they’re going, glued to each other like that, and I wonder briefly if our sham marriage is all the more obvious when compared to that couple.
“You okay?”
I turn to find Ruby staring at me curiously, her hand still in mine. “Yeah, just looking at them.”
Her gaze follows the direction where I nod. I watch her nose turn up in disgust and let out a chuckle.
“Maybe we don’t need to be like them.”
“Ew. No.”
“Come on then, wife. Let’s go home.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, and I walk out into the blazing sunshine, laughing like it’s the best day of my life.
The five of us pile into the waiting Range Rover, and an hour later, we’re airborne on the Burlington family plane.
And I fly back to Valentine Nook a married man.