Chapter Six
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C lementine
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A nd then there they are.
I can’t lie and say I didn’t have intense moments of panic in the three minutes they were late arriving at the city clerk’s building. I never once thought they wouldn’t show up before, but clearly from the look on their faces, they thought I would be the one not to show up.
“Hello, future husbands,” I say cheerfully, giving them my brightest smile and a kiss on each of their cheeks. The powerful surge of electricity that hits me being this close to me staggers me.
“Miss me?” I ask, trying to be saucy.
Holt groans. Ryder strokes his jaw, and Steele chuckles.
“You’re here,” Steele says, his perfect, white teeth gleaming at me as he smiles. Ugh, he’s so sexy.
“Wait, you thought I was joking about the whole thing?”
“Yeah,” Ryder says, his obscenely handsome face serious.
Holt just grunts, and I swear even his grumpy resting face makes my knees weak. He’s so damn good-looking, it should be illegal.
“Oh, I don’t joke about cake, shoes, death, taxes, and marriage,” I say, ticking each one of them off my fingers. “And since you’re here, you’re basically already married to me,” I add.
They had better not be changing their mind. I need to hurry this up.
“Let’s go and make it official, then.” I’m not giving them a chance to back out now.
But my god, they are gorgeous. Dressed in jeans and T-shirts again and clearly straight from a construction site, they don’t hide the fact that they are freaking gorgeous. The scent of their cologne still manages to waft toward me, and I want to sniff their entire bodies so I can inhale it better. I have never in my whole life wanted to sniff any man whatsoever. That would have been a big eww for me before them.
Nearly everyone who passes us on the sidewalk in front of the government building turns their head to ogle them.
Umm, excuse me, people, they’re all mine.
Except now, Holt, Steele, and Ryder stall, looking at each other, having a serious and silent conversation between them.
No. No. No.
“Look, we don’t even have to do the sex part.” Maybe that’s what is scaring them away. “Although I’ll have you know I do Kegels every single day, so your loss,” I say haughtily to recover some pride. That’s not helping. “I’ll pay you to marry me.”
I mean, I could as easily ask that man across the street to marry me, keeping it unconsummated, of course, and for a sum of money thrown in as well, or the man getting into his car. Or anyone else on the planet, for that matter. But it doesn’t feel right. No one else feels right. And it goes deeper than Honeypot putting her stamp of sexual chemistry on us.
I’m barely holding onto them now. I can feel them slip between my fingers, and my heart drops to the bottom of my soul.
“Please,” I say, and I’m surprised at the sincerity in my plea. They turn their attention to me, their gazes so intense, a fresh flood of wetness drenches my panties. I’m glad I have an extra pair of undies in my purse, but it doesn’t matter now anyway. They’re going to say no.
“Ah, fuck,” Holt grumbles. “Where do I sign?”
I squeal in delight and throw my arms around his neck. While his arm goes around my waist, he cups my jaw with a rough, calloused hand that singes my nerves, tilting me a little away from him, drawing me into the darkness of his eyes. A thousand butterflies in my stomach clash into each other as his thumb dips into my mouth before he sucks the dampness into his mouth.
When he releases me, I stumble backward straight into Ryder, whose huge hand goes to my hip to steady me—the weight of his rugged palm engulfing the whole of my hip melts my blood. The hardness of his body against my back takes my breath away. And the place where his cock hits me scorches me right through my clothes.
Steele takes my hand next. Gooseflesh erupts all over my body as my palms brush against his toughened with manual labor, and oh so lip-biting sexy.
He leads me to the door, and in one seamless motion, his breath whispers against the side of my neck. I whimper in shock as his hot mouth opens up on me, and he bites sharply before he kisses my flesh.
That all happens right there on the busy street.
By the time we enter the county clerk’s office, I’m flustered, hot, bothered, disoriented, quivery, can’t English, and so, so wet.
I have no idea what happened, but from that moment, I was no longer in charge. Holt, Steele, and Ryder took over. I also have no clue what strings they pulled, but talk about a quickie marriage.
Everything is done in one day. Holt’s name may appear on the marriage license, but a document drawn up by a lawyer who appeared within moments of being summoned by them indicates I’m married to Holt Kissinger, Steele Adams, and Ryder MacMurphy. That’s the only documentation I’ll need, they inform me.
After that, they give me a few hours to pack what I need. The rest they’ll arrange to be picked up later.
Not only did Tierney and Haley help me pack, but they also managed to sneak out and go shopping, showering me with bags upon bags of gifts. We also drink champagne, bidding farewell to my virginity as I pack up my apartment.
It’s so surreal.
But dear god, here I am sitting in a huge four by four, with three guys I know as much about as I do fly-fishing, and they happen to be my husbands.
They picked me up from my apartment after their workday, and we’re now driving to my new home.
“Wait, where are we going to live?” I ask excitedly; the weight of three simple wedding bands on my finger gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling as I sit in the back with Ryder. Holt drives, and Steele sits in the front passenger seat. Honeypot, despite being harnessed with a safety belt in the middle of me and Ryder, chooses to snuggle against the big guy instead of me. I mean, snuggle against me, not me snuggling against the big guy.
“You obviously don’t live together, right?”
“We do,” Ryder offers. “You’re just moving in with us.”
“Cool,” I say. “So tell me about yourselves. I mean, if this is going to be my honeymoon , I at least need to know something about my husbands.”
“I like it rough. Ryder likes it slow. Steele likes to play,” Holt says.
I gulp. “I mean, what’s your favorite color?” I say in a small voice, which makes even Holt grin.
Apparently, they don’t have a favorite color; too much of a commitment. They were foster brothers who grew up together and are closer than actual brothers. They have no other family.
Holt mountain climbs in his spare time. Steele loves to do deep-sea diving. And Ryder likes to jump from moving planes. I let them know upfront I prefer my feet on solid ground.
I tell them besides being a matchmaker at Leashed to Love, I’m also an artist, a painter, and I would love to do a portrait of them one day. Free of charge.
“How did you get into construction?” I ask.
“The roof of the last foster home we lived in collapsed, and we fixed it by ourselves. From there it was just one job after another,” Steele says.
I like this. I could get very used to this. There’s no pressure to be a hotel heiress around them. And they don’t seem to care that I am one either.
I look outside at the setting sun as we drive away from the city, and I smile.
Of course, I don’t have our time frame in hard writing; it’s more a verbal agreement, and I have no doubt they’ll be keeping me to my word that this marriage is only ninety days long.
It’s just as well Tierney made us all go on the pill the minute she got married, which had all started because she wanted to lose her virginity and write a book about it. Her sexperiments became her husbands. Her reasoning was we never know when we’re going to meet the love of our lives or the hookup of our lives.
Tierney is a genius like that.
Also, just as well this isn’t real, and we’re not having any babies. Imagine telling our kids the story of how we met.