Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
I’m not a doctor, but it looks like you have a lack of Vitamin Me.
—From Bash’s dad joke collection
Bash
All around him, voices erupted in ferocious, shocked chatter. It was worse than the barn version of Lord of the Flies he’d experienced earlier. There were so many exclaimed words flying, Bash couldn’t discern anything through the chaotic sound.
A shrill whistle pierced the air and immediate silence descended.
“Enough!” The deep baritone of Tiercy’s husband, Cole, boomed. “Give the man a chance to talk.”
Christ, the dude was jacked and had a commanding presence—he easily could have played Thor. Bash made a mental note to text Hemsworth and tell him to watch his back. Heh heh.
Cole turned to him and leveled a gaze. “Speak.”
Now nine pairs of eyes watched him intently. Bash grabbed the water glass again, froze, and then placed it gently down, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“Listen,” he began carefully, realizing he needed their support if this scheme was going to work.
“I didn’t intend to create that fabrication.
But when it popped into my brain, it just went straight through my filter—do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars—and popped out of my mouth.
Arabella…she’s, well…she’s been on my mind nonstop since yesterday.
So, naturally, my psyche just glommed onto her. ”
Brinder’s jaw dropped. “‘Your psyche?’”
“Yes,” Bash defended earnestly. “She just…was top of mind.” He blew out his breath. “And now I have to convince her to marry me.”
It was like a needle scratch on a record. Everyone was looking at everyone else, sending silent ‘Can you believe this?’ messages he could easily interpret.
Suddenly, laughter filled the barn. Deep belly laughs that under normal circumstances would be contagious. Lila Somerville was in minor hysterics, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
Tiercy leveled a gaze at her late husband’s sister. “Anything you want to share with the class, Li?”
“I just,” she broke off laughing again, unable to finish her thought, coughing and battling to catch her breath.
Eventually she pulled herself together, huffing out a laugh and holding her stomach.
“Whew—sorry about that. It’s just…holy shit, Bash.
You told your producer you’re in a serious, marriage-on-the-way relationship with”—she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, incredulous amusement shaking her shoulders—“Dr. Arabella Remington?!”
“Is that so unbelievable?” Ok, now Bash was getting offended.
Lila held her hands out in a peace-keeping gesture. “No, Bash, please don’t misunderstand. This isn’t an indictment on you. It’s about Doc. She’s, well, she’s the last person who would do something like this.”
“Not going to happen,” Brinder inserted, the steel in his voice matching the glare in his eyes. “I told you to respect my chief of orthopedics, and then you went and did this?”
“Hey,” Bash held up a finger. “Wait just a damn minute. You aren’t her father. Not her brother. Even if you were, you have no right to speak for her.”
“I’m her boss,” Brinder enunciated.
“And that doesn’t give you permission to make decisions for her before she’s even been presented with the opportunity.” Now Bash’s ire was good and stoked.
“You’re fucking serious about this.” Brinder looked over at his wife, clearly nonverbally conveying ‘do something.’
But Honor’s reaction wasn’t anger. It wasn’t shock.
It was understanding.
She got it. His sister fucking got it.
“This part means everything to you.” Not a question. Just Honor seeing his truth.
“It does.” He affirmed, the rightness of it all settling in his bones.
“Then we’ll help you.”
“We will?” Brinder and Lila responded in unison like a Greek chorus.
“Yes.” Honor’s tone brooked no argument.
She passed a still sound asleep Jude to Brinder and walked over to Bash, a proud smile on her face.
“Bash should have the chance to embrace this opportunity. And I’m going to do everything I can to create a win-win for him and Remy.
And listen…the whole fake dating thing worked for Brinder and me, right?
Why not dial it up to marriage for the role of a lifetime, eh? ”
“Some families have traditions like coordinating T-shirts on vacations or running on Thanksgiving morning,” Ross pondered, tapping her chin. “Apparently this generation of Wheatleys fake dates. Or marries, as the case may be,” she finished with a wink and a nod at Bash.
“This is nuts,” Brinder muttered to himself.
“No. It’s not. We just need the right carrot,” Honor insisted.
“For this what-the-everloving-fuck salad,” Ross added with a smirk, her eyes twinkling. “Ooops, sorry, Leah. Good thing she’s sleeping.” Ross passed the boneless sack of toddler to Xander, who expertly shifted the small child across his chest.
“And what, Stardust, are you suggesting as this golden carrot?” Brinder’s gaze was soft as he looked at his wife before shifting his unreadable gaze back to Bash.
Fuck. Bash hated unreadable gazes.
“The shelter.”
“Holy shit,” Lila gasped. “Honor’s right. St. Dymphna’s. She volunteers there every week.”
“Did you just say saint nympho?” Ross snickered, her eyes goggling dramatically. The joke successfully broke the underpinning tension, laughter lightening the mood.
“Dymphna’s, Ross. She’s the patron saint for victims of domestic abuse.
” Honor rolled her eyes and grinned at her.
“It’s one of the shelters where we donated the money I received in punitive damages from Crispin’s sex video.
” Honor’s eyes saddened at the difficult memory of the nonconsensual video her ex had filmed and released to blackmail her.
Brinder leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Love you, Stardust.”
“Love you, too, Gomez.”
“Gag me, you two,” Ross trolled with a laugh. “Can we please get back to Bash’s arranged marriage?”
Those two teasing words hit Bash like a double punch to the gut. Marriage as a trading card. Fucking hell. He was just like his grandfather. His entire adult life he’d refused to marry for show. And now? He was officially a hypocrite.
Bash pushed that unwelcome reality to the side to be examined later, tuning back into the banter of couples who were actually together for the right reasons.
“Ha, like you and Xan aren’t the king and queen of PDA,” Tiercy rejoined.
“She’s not wrong, Principessa,” Xan added sotto-voice to his wife.
“So are you thinking—?” Lila began, ignoring the others.
“That Bash offers Arabella Remington a major donation to the shelter in exchange for one year of marriage,” Honor finished.
“How much?” Bash asked excitedly, hope filling his chest. “One million?”
Honor blew a raspberry, waving a dismissive hand. “Ten.”
“Ten!” Lila shrieked.
Bash paid no attention to her shocked outburst, keeping his mind off his hypocrisy and his gaze firmly on his sister. “That could work.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, brother,” Honor snarked good-naturedly.
“No, not surprised. Impressed.” He drum-tapped his hands on his thighs, excited energy coursing through his system.
“Wait just a Hottie McHot Pants minute.” Ross’s imperious voice carried over the din of the barn’s occupants, effectively silencing their waves of chatter and shocked exclamations at the proposition at hand.
All eyes landed on Ross, who had climbed on a chair with her chin held queenly high.
“I just want to be clear that I’m the Fairy Rossmother, matchmaker extraordinaire. I shall not be usurped!”
His sister’s giggle, along with the dramatic ridiculousness of Ross, had a grin spreading wide on Bash’s face. He watched as Honor effortlessly slid into character, her voice shifting to one of subservience. “I’m merely an acolyte learning at your knee.” Honor dipped her head in reverence.
“Excellent, padawan. Nice recovery.” Ross nodded approvingly. “No longer the usurper, you shall be my apprentice, and I’ll teach you all I know.”
“I want to be an apprentice, too!” Lila blurted, clapping her hands.
“Welcome, apprentice,” Ross pronounced like a sage on the mountaintop.
“Unbelievable,” Xander whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head, an indulgent smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.
“What could possibly go wrong?” Brinder grumbled.
“Nothing.” Bash spoke with conviction of the heart. “Nothing is going to go wrong.” Bash rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go get me my wife.”