Hitched (Love Burns #6)

CHAPTER ONE

You’re going to hell, Bethany. Straight up, Lucifer shoving pokers up your ass, hell.

“You had to go for the ball gown wedding dress, didn’t you?” Bethany tutted to herself.

To be fair, at the time, she had no idea she would be trying to cram four layers of tulle out the bathroom window. In hindsight, a simple A-line would have been more suitable for this kind of thing.

Are you seriously thinking about runaway bride attire right now?

She was. Anything was better than thinking about what she was actually doing.

Finally free of the much smaller than she’d thought, bathroom window, she felt her heels sink into the freshly cut grass.

“Okay. Now what? Call an Uber?” she muttered to herself as her eyes darted around the church yard. Thank God everyone was inside. Well. Almost everyone.

Shit!

Before she’d even had a chance to gather her dress and realize that her heart was in her throat, the man in the black fitted suit was walking toward her. Their gazes locked.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“What the hell are you doing?” the man hollered as he continued in her direction.

The nerve. He, of all people, had no right to be angry.

“You’re still smoking?” was her haughty reply.

Those familiar green eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You’re still smoking?” she repeated. “Don’t you know those things will kill you?”

Way to pull off self-righteousness mid-way through ditching your wedding, Bethany.

“That’s what you wanna talk about?” he scoffed, stopping just close enough for the sharp edge of his forest scent to wrap around her. “Not the fact that you just climbed out of that window behind you?” Benny pointed to the cloudy, rippled glass over her shoulder.

“Did you bring your truck?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

He blinked. “What?”

“Your truck, Benny, did you bring it?” She let out an exasperated sigh.

His look was beyond suspicious. “Of course, I brought my truck, B, I didn’t fucking fly here.”

Fucking smartass. Some things never change.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Her hand was in his seconds later as she hurriedly dragged him across the abandoned courtyard. Dodging uneven cobbles and century-old tree roots as she went.

Just when she didn’t think this day could get more fucked up, she was gathering four layers of tulle again and cramming it into her ex-boyfriend’s old pickup truck.

Fuck you too, universe.

Benny climbed in next to her, not hiding the dirty looks he was casting as he started the old banger.

And it was an old banger. He’d been driving the faded red beast for going on thirteen years.

She even remembered when he’d first gotten it, the paint was still shiny then, and you could make out the two-tone design on the bench seat fabric. Now, not so much.

Her eyes darted to the threadbare cloth, then to the cracked dashboard as the truck rumbled to life. “Nice to know your fear of commitment doesn’t extend to everything in your life,” she muttered under her breath.

Benny’s head snapped her way. Dark green orbs narrowing on her. “You got something you wanna say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe, hurry the hell up!” she impatiently huffed, her arms crossing over her chest. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of in a rush?”

She didn’t know why she was so mad at him. Actually, scrap that. She knew. She was annoyed he was there to witness the shitshow that is her life. Pissed he’d had the audacity to show up to her wedding. And to top it all off, she was angry as hell that he still looked so damn fine.

Ten years had been kind to Benjamin Tucker. His boyish features had matured. His toned body had turned muscular. His wild chestnut hair, tamed. Even the bump in his nose he’d received after a classmate slammed open the locker door next to him, looked rugged paired with day-old stubble.

Men suck.

“I’m sorry I’m not living up to your getaway driver standards, B!” he snorted. “Maybe you want to explain to me what the fuck is going on?”

She stayed quiet. That was definitely not something she wanted to do. At least they were moving. And there were no signs of her being followed.

“Or, whereabouts I’m taking you?” he pressed.

She didn’t have an answer for that, either.

Running out on her wedding wasn’t exactly on her list of things to do today.

Right now, she was supposed to be Mrs. Douglas Wright.

But she couldn’t do it. Staring at her reflection in that bathroom mirror, it had hit her like a ton of bricks.

Her nausea wasn’t nerves. The tightness in her chest on the drive over wasn’t anticipation.

And the churn in her stomach certainly wasn’t butterflies.

The adrenaline was waning though, which meant she had to start feeling. It’s why she let her eyes flutter shut at the first sign of stinging.

“B?” Benny called out.

Hello? I’m trying not to cry here!

Hearing her first love’s voice wasn’t helping. It was no wonder the tears won.

“Hey?” She noticed Benny’s voice gentled. “NeNe, baby, you okay?”

The use of his nickname for her, combined with a ‘baby,’ was enough to jolt her back to reality and quite possibly push her over the edge.

“No, I’m not okay. I just ran out on my wedding.

My freaking wedding!” Her voice might have risen.

“I have nowhere to go ‘cause my parents will be pissed as hell I’ve run out on a wedding they paid for. I can’t go back to my brand-new apartment ‘cause the man I just left standing at the altar lives there. And if that’s not enough of a shit sandwich, I’m currently sitting in a big-ass white wedding dress in a truck I not only lost my virginity in, but with the man who fucking took it—with no money, no clothes and no idea what the hell I’m going to do. So, no. I’m not o-fucking-kay.”

She threw her head back, loudly sighing as it met metal. She forgot there was no headrest. You don’t deserve a headrest. No. She didn’t. She needed to prepare for discomfort before her trip to hell.

You might have already arrived.

Unsurprisingly, her rant was met with silence, which she was taking as a good thing. She didn’t have any answers to his questions. She needed time, quiet, to figure out some sort of a plan.

Ten minutes of charged silence later, she let out a sigh when she still hadn’t come up with one. When the truck began to slow, her attention went from the ring finger she’d been fiddling with to the front window, just in time to watch Benny pull into a cobblestone driveway.

“Where are we?” Bethany asked as she kept her gaze on the modest wood house.

Benny was already out of the truck and rounding the hood when he hollered, “Come on.” Before she knew it, he’d swung open her door and was offering his hand.

“Where are we?” she repeated as she allowed him to help her out. There was too much tulle to turn him down.

“My place, NeNe. You’re staying with me.”

Like hell she was!

***

Bethany’s white wedding dress had been mocking her, so after a quick change, she’d come back downstairs to find Benny in his kitchen.

It wasn’t at all what she’d expected. With butcher block counters, freshly painted duck egg cabinets and a gleaming cream backsplash, the space had a cozy country cottage feel to it.

It was also spotless, as if it had been finished just yesterday.

Impressive.

Her gaze went to the half bottle of whiskey on the floating island they stood beside. A tumbler streaked with sticky amber residue signaling her ex had just downed a drink. She was tempted to pour a measure for herself. Or five.

“Are those my boxer shorts?” Her focus went back to Benny. His nostrils flaring as his gaze drifted down the length of her.

She recognized that look. And how dangerous it was. The heat in his eyes. A healthy dose of pissed off tinging the dark green, which was only getting darker as he stalked toward her.

Damnit. She shivered. Her body remembering too much.

You were about to be a married woman, Bethany. Pull yourself together.

The reminder fell on deaf ears. Benny was in her space. All too familiar warm woodsy musk making it hard to breathe.

His hand went to her shirt where he pinched the navy material sitting above her waist. “My fire department tee?” One eyebrow raised, all accusatory. “You think you’re stealing this, NeNe?” That was exactly what she was doing. “Well, think again.”

When she didn’t reply, his grip tightened, the baggy cotton growing tighter and tighter against her skin. Not helping the whole breathing thing.

Benny’s attention went to her hair next.

No longer pristinely pinned, it lay loose over her shoulders.

Slowly, his fingers traced the length of a messy brown strand, before sliding it between his thumb and forefinger.

When he let the strand slip, and his gaze met hers again, she knew she was in trouble.

Big trouble. The kind where if you don’t run screaming now, you’ll end up naked on your ex-boyfriend’s kitchen floor regretting your life choices.

Because you’re really acing the whole life choices thing today, aren’t you?

“I-I,” I what? Think. “I should go.” Yes. She should. But where?

I could ask Lucy?

Lucy was the only friend she had that still lived in Woodvalley Pines. But calling her meant turning on her phone. Explaining why she’d run out on her wedding. And what on earth she was doing at her ex-boyfriend’s house...in his boxer shorts. All things she wasn’t quite ready to deal with just yet.

Shit.

She didn’t move. Which was lucky because she didn’t think she’d get very far with Benny still clinging onto her shirt.

“And where have you decided to go—to your parents or to the man you left at the altar?”

Those pathetically sad options were looking better and better by the second as more sharp ex-boyfriend fumes invaded her senses.

“I’ll stay in a hotel,” she rushed out, before remembering the small town didn’t exactly have a thriving tourist district.

Benny’s brows lifted, clearly thinking the same thing.

But then her memory finally proved useful.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “The Evans brothers!” She was gleefully pointing her finger in his direction now.

“They opened guest cabins a while back, I’ll go stay there! ”

Benny’s face hardened. “No.”

“No?” she repeated. Unsure what that look on his face was all about.

“No,” he said again. “You’ll stay here. I’ll have Rachel go get your things from your apartment.”

Who the hell was Rachel? Oh. Is that his girlfriend?

Just the thought had Bethany stepping back. Releasing her shirt from Benny’s hold and breaking the spell his eyes had her under.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, suddenly finding the shiny wood beams far more interesting than him. But it didn’t last long, Benny’s black loafers stepped back into her space, and a moment later, his big hand was cradling her cheek, gently tipping her head up to meet him.

“She’s my friend’s wife.” God, she hated that he knew exactly what she was thinking. And how darn smug that grin was. “She’s also too damn nice to turn away so she’ll have no problem getting your things.”

Nice or not, she had a feeling Doug wasn’t going to just let some stranger waltz into his home and take her stuff.

“That’s nice of you, but it’s not necessary. I’ll grab some bits from the Farm n’ Fresh on my way over to the Evans ranch.”

Are you seriously gonna walk around the Farm n’ Fresh in Benny’s boxers?

Her inner voice made a good point. She’d caused enough scandal for one day. This town was far too small. Back in Denver she never had to worry about small town gossip. She remembered then, more shit to add to the show. She’d just moved her residency to the Goldacre Medical Clinic.

Just freaking peachy.

“What was that look?” The concern in Benny’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Nothing,” she lied. “Can I borrow some sweats?”

He took a moment to run his eyes up and down her again. Heat scorching her skin as he did. When he was done, instead of answering her question, he pulled out his phone.

“Yeah,” he grunted in reply to the mystery person on the other end of his call. “I need a favor.” She resisted the urge to impatiently tap her foot as another second passed. “I need you and Rachel to pass by Bethany’s apartment and gather some clothes and shit and bring them here.”

Really?

The man was infuriating.

“Yeah. I’ll text you the address.”

This is how murders happen.