Chapter Five
DAVIS
My mouth is about as dry as those fields that Steinbeck described in The Grapes of Wrath. It’s like swallowing my own personal Dust Bowl.
That’s it. From now on, no more from Lindee’s personal ’shine stash.
I need some water…
More than that, I bet Kyra does too. She had just as much as I did. Plus, we need to talk about what all that moonshine led to. It was incredibly hot, and fuck, I think I might be even more in love with her than I was before. But that’s why we need to talk.
Preferably before we tie the knot.
Rolling over, I reach for her, my body already craving the feel of her softness against me. Something about the way she fit in my arms, not to mention on my dick, was so perfectly perfect. That is exactly how I want to wake up every morning for the rest of my life.
Only, she’s not there.
My hand is greeted by cold sheets, jump-starting my pulse. In an instant, I bolt upright, my eyes flying open. The other half of the king-size bed was slept in, but is as empty as Christ’s tomb on the third day.
Fuck!
I hop out of bed, panic setting in. Was last night that bad?
I didn’t think so. I thought we had fun. Kyra certainly seemed to enjoy herself. The multiple orgasms she had…errrr, well, I think she had. I guess she could have faked those.
No. No…she did not fake those. What we shared last night was real. Very, very real.
Now to figure out why she bolted.
I spin around, reminding myself to take a deep breath. Hyperventilating never solved anything. Neither did morning breath. I need to brush my teeth.
Padding into the bathroom, I flip on the light and see it immediately. A small, folded note with my name scribbled across it in Kyra’s handwriting taped to the mirror. My heart stops as I pull it down, holding on to the air in my lungs as I read it.
D-
It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding ;)
See you at the courthouse. Love you.
K
I exhale every last ounce of air in my lungs, to the point that it hurts. I read it again and again, each time falling all over again, not knowing what I love more—the little heart next to her K, or the words love you. Words we’ve said to each other in passing, but never written out before.
Not until today.
Our wedding day.
Best not leave the bride waiting.
* * *
So much for not leaving the bride waiting.
I look at the time on my phone—again—as I pace in the lobby of the courthouse. Kyra was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. It’s not like her to be late. It’s also not like her to not answer her phone. Or her texts. Both of which she seems to be ignoring.
Or something has happened.
No, Trouble is a small town. I would have heard if something happened. Especially since I’m at the courthouse, which is smack-dab in the middle of town.
Shit, what if she changed her mind? What if sleeping together ruined everything?
There’s been little doubt in my mind that the more-than-friends feelings I’ve been harboring for Kyra all these years were one-sided. And that’s fine, because having her as just a friend is better than not having her at all. But if I fucked up by kissing her last night, I will never forgive myself.
Never.
“If you continue to pace like that, you’re gonna wear out the floor,” Nick, my college roommate and other best friend says, without looking up from his phone. “She’ll be here.”
“She’s never late.”
“I’m sure there was a hair crisis or something.”
I whip around. “This is Kyra.”
He looks up at me, lifting a single shoulder in acquiescence. Both our phones ding, and I look down, my heart speeding up. I click on the text from Kyra, scanning it over quickly.
“See, she has to be on her way; she sent the text.”
Nick’s right. I read the words over and over, and it’s all there. The group text to the select group of family and friends inviting them to our wedding. Asking them to be here in thirty minutes. Providing that the bride gets here.
A loud bang fills the lobby, bright light blinding me as the heavy front doors open and cool air rushes in.
“Sorry!” Kyra exclaims, scurrying through the lobby. She stops just short of me, deflating as she relaxes, then throws her arms around me, squeezing as tight as she can. “My shoe broke and I had to turn around and get a different pair.”
“See, shoes…” Nick mutters.
I return her embrace, unable to hold back my laughter. “I wasn’t worried, Baby.”
Nick scoffs from behind me, and I carefully turn so that he can see me flip him off.
“Lindee’s on her way,” Kyra says, pulling back. “She had to grab something at the office, but she promised to be here in time.”
“Then let’s go get our paperwork, so we’ll be set for when everyone arrives, almost Mrs. Barnes.”
Kyra titters, her face flushing to match the pink of her dress. I hold out my arm, ready to escort her down the short hallway to the registrar’s office. Taking it, she lets me lead the way, Nick right behind us.
Fifteen minutes later, the paperwork is all filled out and we’re legal. Well, almost legal. Our marriage license is secured and our appointment with the judge is set, so now all we have to do is say the vows and have the judge sign on the dotted line.
Then we are Mr. and Mrs. Davidson Oswald Barnes.
“Last chance to cut and run,” I whisper to Kyra, slipping her hand into mine as we walk back to the lobby.
“Not a chance.” Kyra smiles at me, the look in her eyes telling me everything I need to know. That last night wasn’t a fluke. That it wasn’t about the moonshine. And that this isn’t only about taxes. “You’re stuck with me, Davis Barnes.”
“I think it might be the other way around, Kyra Murray.”
“Barnes. It’s about to be Kyra Bar—”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Kyra’s cut off by the angriest shriek I’ve ever heard in my life. One that is so hot it could slice clean through a glacier. It doesn’t take long to figure out who it belongs to. Because as soon as we hit the lobby, my eyes land on the meanest, angriest brunette in Trouble, Tennessee.
Mikayla Murray.
Kyra’s oldest sister. And the family lawyer.
“Seriously!” Mikayla continues, not giving us a chance to answer. “What the fuck? What the actual fuck, Kyra?”
“What?” Kyra sasses back, without a care in the world.
That’s my girl…
“What? What?” Mikayla throws her arms out wide.
I look past her, scanning to see who else has arrived. So far, it’s just her and Lindee, who is standing a few feet behind her, watching intensely. Like she’s ready to intervene at any moment.
“Do you want to go to jail?” Mikayla continues. “That’s what!”
“What are you talking about?” Kyra asks.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit…
I swallow hard, trying to will Mikayla to stop talking. To not be her normal, uptight, controlling self. To simply let this all play out how Kyra and I want it to.
But she doesn’t.
“It’s tax fraud, Kyra! Or did Davis leave that part out?”
“What? How…” Kyra sputters.
“Sorry,” Lindee chimes in from the other side of their older sister. “She cornered me when she got the text, and I told her.”
“Yeah, and it’s a good thing she did. Because this guy”—Mikayla yanks her thumb in my direction, her Murray-hazel eyes turning even angrier—“is using you for your money. He’s setting you up to go to jail for a long, long time. Plus, he’s putting Tennessee Trouble in a lot of financial trouble.”
“That is not what’s going on,” I defend.
“Stop, Davis,” Mikayla cuts me off.
The courthouse doors open, cool air whipping in and Kyra’s parents rushing inside, her brother, Rylan, right behind them. They stop short, eyes going wide when they see the group of us.
“Davis,” Kyra says, worry in her voice. “Is she right? Is this tax fraud?”
“Yes,” Mikayla answers for me.
“I didn’t ask you, Mikayla,” Kyra spits. Turning back to me, she drops my hand, coolness surrounding it instantly, making the loss feel that much bigger. “Tell me the truth.”
“Technically, yes. But—”
“No buts,” she cuts me off.
“Then, technically, yes.”
My stomach knots up and I want to puke. Kyra’s face falls, shattering my heart in a million pieces. I did that. I hurt her. That knowledge right there is worse than jail time.
“This is what you get for being so impetuous. If you had just stopped to think—”
“Mikayla, I don’t want to hear it!” Kyra shouts. “Because despite what you think, you did just succeed in ruining my wedding day.”
Without another word, Kyra storms off, pushing past both her sisters. I call after her, but she doesn’t even turn around, continuing across the lobby, not even looking at her parents before she’s out the door.
Clenching my fists, I count to ten, hoping that will somehow tamp down the rage that is rising in me. It doesn’t. Instead, it acts as a flimsy lid rattling on top of a boiling pot, making that much more of a racket inside my chest.
“I feel like we missed something?” Bonnie, Kyra’s mother, comments, looking between the door and us.
“Certainly not a wedding,” Rick, her husband, replies.
“Are you happy now?” I growl between gritted teeth, my gaze trained on Mikayla.
She doesn’t flinch. Crossing her arms, she shifts her weight, all but rolling her eyes.
“I halted a felony, so yes.”
“Or broke our sister’s heart,” Lindee accuses, walking up to her.
“I did no such thing. We are not going to pretend this was real,” Mikayla snarks.
Lindee looks at me, her hazel eyes soft, full of love, and somehow, knowing.
It’s aways been amazing to me how different these three woman are—blonde, brunette, and redhead—and yet, those same eyes connect them.
Same with their brother. Which is how I know how to read their eyes.
They are simply a different version of the ones I love so much.
“It is,” I say softly, my heart breaking over not saying this sooner. Clearing my throat, I repeat myself, louder this time. “It is. It’s real. I love her. Have for a long time. None of this is about her being a Murray or the Tennessee Trouble money. It’s about her. Plain and simple.”
“Well, no kiddin’, son,” my dad says, chuckling.
I whip my head up, shocked to find both sets of parents standing there. Smiling like they can finally let me in on a secret.
“We’ve been waiting on you two to figure this out since the fourth grade,” my mother adds.
“We would have been here sooner, but Bonnie and I have secretly had a something old and a something blue picked out for a long time should you two actually get your act together. Since you didn’t give us a lot of notice, I had to scramble a bit. ”
“But we got them!”
Miss Bonnie and my mama hold up a vintage silhouette brooch and a piece of blue satin ribbon embroidered with Kyra’s new monogram, making my heart squeeze. Well, shit. I don’t know if that makes things better or worse.
“It was still tax fraud,” Mikayla mutters.
“It’s only illegal if you get caught,” Rylan comments.
“No, it’s not!”
I bite back my laugh, not wanting to poke the dragon anymore. Regardless of how humorous this interaction might be, I still have a very upset fiancée. That is, if she is still my fiancée.
I need her to still be my fiancée.
“Davis?” Lindee says, almost as if she’s reading my mind. “What are you thinking?”
I turn to her, smiling, the lightbulb going off in my brain.
“I know how to fix this.”