4. Reed
Reed
“Reed,” a woman’s voice says. “Reed. Wake up.”
I float in the darkness of my dream, comfortable and warm.
“Reed. Fuck,” the same voice hisses before my body is jolted awake.
“What?” I ask, shooting upward, the blissfulness of sleep completely gone. My heart pounds so hard in my chest I can damn near hear it in my ears. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I pant with my hand on my chest.
Amelia’s next to me, looking like an angel with the sunshine hitting her. “What the hell happened?” She throws her arms up and around. “Why are you here?”
“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing my hand up and down my face without an actual clue either. “I don’t know.”
“You’re naked,” she says as her eyes travel down my body to where the sheet is draped around my waist.
I point at her. “Looks like you are too.”
She pulls the sheet away from herself but keeps her body hidden. “I don’t have on any underwear. Do you?”
“I don’t need to look to tell you no.” I can feel the soft sheets lying across my morning wood that’s about to give her an eyeful soon.
Amelia covers her face with her hands. “This is unbelievable. I don’t do this.”
“Sugar, I won’t think less of you,” I tell her. How could I, when I don’t remember either?
She lifts her head, her big brown eyes meeting mine. “You don’t remember what we did and how I got here?”
I shake my head. “Last thing I remember is talking about skydiving.”
“Did we sleep together?” she asks, clutching the sheet to her chest like it’s a security blanket.
“You woke me up, so obviously.”
“No, Reed. I mean, did we sleep together?” she asks again.
I shrug. “If we did, I sure wish I fucking remembered every minute of it.”
“Damn it,” she snaps, shaking her head. “This is awful.”
“I’m not happy about it either,” I tell her, but for entirely different reasons. Would I regret it if we did fuck? Hell no, but I wish I had even a flashback of key moments.
“Maybe we can jog each other’s memory,” she says, bringing her knees up to her chest. “We were at the club drinking, right?”
I nod.
“And then you wanted to go skydiving.”
I shake my head and laugh. “That was totally you.”
“Right. I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“It was dark outside.”
“Disappointing,” she mutters. “Then what? We had a few more drinks?”
“Yep.”
How does this woman wake up looking as beautiful as she did the night before? Most women I’d been with looked nothing like the version of themselves that I slept with, and it was usually a jump scare the next morning in the light.
“Did we play truth or dare?” she asks, rocking back on her bottom, her brown hair swaying with the movement.
“I don’t know. Maybe,” I whisper, rubbing my forehead and the headache that’s pounding right above my eyebrows. There are hangovers and then there are hangovers, and this one is a doozy.
“I think…” She pauses and glances down for a minute before dragging her gaze back to me. “I think Cassie dared me to kiss you.”
“I always liked Cassie,” I tell her.
“No, you don’t.”
“Anyone who wants you to kiss me is okay in my book.”
She gives me an unamused look. “I kissed you.”
“Probably. Was it good?”
I hate myself for not being able to remember. My memory is already shit, after one too many concussions when I was younger. Between high school football and riding horses, I’d hit my head on the ground a bit too often for my memory to be right.
“Is that important right now?” she asks, her perfect lips curling upward.
“Damn, girl. I mean, it must’ve been if you ended up naked and in bed with me.”
“You’re not helping,” she says, her eyes narrowed on me.
If she’s trying to scare me, she’s failing miserably.
“Where’s my phone?” she asks, glancing around the room.
I point to the nightstand next to her, where her pink phone case is clearly visible. “There.”
She reaches back, the sheet falling a little, showing off the plumpness of her breasts at the side. I hate myself for getting so drunk that I don’t remember a single moment of what happened in this room last night.
Amelia rights herself and stares down at her screen. Her face loses all color. “What in the…” She brings the screen closer to her face. A second later, she drops the damn thing like it burned her flesh. She lifts her fingers and stares at them.
“What?” I ask, and my heart that had settled a bit is back to running a sprint.
She thrusts her hand toward me and shakes it.
“What am I looking at?” I study her hand, but it looks like it always does.
She wiggles her fingers and grunts.
“Your nails are nice. I told you that yesterday.”
“Fuck me,” she mutters and grabs her phone, damn near hurling it at me.
I pick it up, and the screen turns on. I see a photo of her hand and mine, together. “Okay,” I whisper, still confused. “What am I looking at?”
“The fingers. What’s on our fingers?”
My eyes drift over the photo, spotting two gold rings. I didn’t have one on yesterday. I never wear rings because they’re too dangerous in my line of work. My gaze shoots to my hand, and the metal sparkles in the sunshine.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “Did we…” I glance down and lift my hand, spotting the same ring from the photos.
“Oh my God,” she cries, setting her head down on her knees, somehow curling herself into a tighter ball.
“Did we get married last night?” I whisper.
“I think we fucking did,” she mutters against the sheet.
“You’re my wife,” I say in total disbelief, but hell, I like the sound of it, even if I shouldn’t.
She lifts her head, tears swimming in her eyes. “This is a nightmare. I need to wake up,” she mutters, pinching the skin on her arms.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Pain is supposed to wake you up.” She pinches herself again and winces.
“Is it working?” I ask, unable to stop a smirk from playing on my lips.
“No,” she groans and drops her head back to her knees. “This is so fucked up.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t. I’m stunned into silence. We got married. We said vows to each other. I don’t even know her last name, and I married her.
We can’t be the first people to get drunk in Vegas and end up married. There must be an easy way out of this for idiots like us.
“We can get it annulled,” I tell her, my mind racing a million miles an hour. “We’ll go to the courthouse and get this taken care of.”
“It’s Sunday,” she tells me as she peers at me over her knees. “Everything’s closed, and I have a flight in three hours. I can’t miss it.”
“I leave today too.”
There’s a knock on the bedroom door. “Coffee’s here,” Cassie says but doesn’t open the door. “Why don’t you and your husband come grab a cup.” That statement is followed by a round of giggles.
Amelia’s eyes widen before she bolts off the bed, naked as the day she was born. She reaches for the door when she suddenly realizes she’s not wearing anything.
The view is spectacular too. Not only do I love this woman’s personality, but her ass is the best I’ve ever seen. Everything about her body is lush and curvy.
Before I have too much time to soak her in, she grabs a robe off a hook near the closet and covers herself. Amelia flings open the door to a smiling Cassie. “What do you know?” Amelia asks her.
Cassie giggles again. “How was the wedding night?” I can’t see the look on Amelia’s face, but from the way Cassie’s laughter skitters to a stop, I’m sure it’s icy. “What’s wrong?”
“I got fucking married,” Amelia says, but there’s no sweetness in her voice.
“I know,” Cassie says before her eyes move to me, and she waves. “Hey, Reed.”
“Cassie,” I say with a head dip. “Where are we?”
“Our suite,” Cassie replies. “Amelia got it for us.”
“Shut up, Cassie,” Amelia’s quick to say.
I whistle again. First, the woman has a cabana and now a suite. Neither one of those comes cheap or easy. At least, not for someone like me.
“Someone’s a grumpy bride. Come have coffee. We’re in the dining room,” Cassie says, like this isn’t the most awkward situation in the world. “You’ll feel better afterward.”
Amelia’s hands are balled into fists at her sides. Her body’s strung so tight, I think she’s about to snap. “We?” Amelia asks Cassie.
“Cliff, Dustin, Lyra, and me.”
“Did you guys get married too?” Amelia asks.
“No, silly goose. Just you two.” Cassie smiles. “We can watch the video while we have coffee if you want.”
“There’s a video?” Amelia’s voice is crisp.
Cassie nods as she traces over the bottom of her ponytail with her fingers. “It was part of the package.”
“Go,” Amelia tells her. “I need to get dressed.”
“Take your time,” Cassie says like she’s somehow in charge.
Amelia slams the door as soon as Cassie turns around.
“No need to be cranky!” Cassie yells from the hallway.
“Get dressed,” Amelia tells me, grabbing my jeans off the floor and flinging them at me on the bed.
I snatch them out of the air before they have a chance to smack me in the face. “We’ll fix this,” I tell her when she walks into the attached bathroom. “My brother’s a lawyer. He’ll handle everything.”
I want to reassure her. I have no plans to be married—or at least, to stay married. I’ll chalk this up to a night of poor decisions. It wouldn’t be the first time. Although none of my other lapses in judgment led to a walk down the aisle. Fuckin’ Vegas.
Amelia pokes her head out and stares at me. “He can do that?”
I nod. “He’ll handle everything. I’m sure it’s an easy process.” I don’t have a clue if it is or not, but it doesn’t matter. Jasper will get it done.
Amelia disappears inside the bathroom again, and I use the moment to climb out of bed.
“Jasper’s the best lawyer in the county. He’ll know how to handle this,” I tell her as I stretch out the backache her very soft bed gave me.
Amelia strides out of the bathroom, somehow already fully dressed, at that very moment. “You’re naked,” she whispers with big eyes as she freezes.
“I know,” I tell her. I don’t make any moves to change it either. I’ve never been embarrassed about being naked, and even if we can’t remember last night, she’s seen me this way already. “I was about to put my pants on.”
“Do it,” she tells me. But with the look on her face and the way her eyes are roaming around my bare flesh, her words don’t match her actions. “Put your pants on.”
“Can’t control yourself with your husband?” I tease because I’m an idiot and don’t realize now isn’t the time to be flirtatious or funny. “You’re allowed to look.”
Amelia’s hands fly up to her face, and she covers her eyes. “We’re not married.”
“We are, though,” I say as I slide on my jeans. “But not for long.”
“Are you covered?”
“Yep.”
She blows out a breath as her hands drop to her sides. “Come on, cowboy. I need answers.”
“You’re calmer,” I say as I stalk across the room.
She holds out her hand to stop me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Her gaze drops to my chest. “A shirt might help.”
“Who?” I smirk.
“While you look great shirtless…”
“I do?” I give her a wink.
Her eyes narrow. “Stop being cute.”
“Am I cute too?” I tease.
Amelia groans and spins around, mumbling to herself as she stalks out of the room, leaving me behind.
What happens in Vegas sure as hell isn’t staying here this time.
I have a wife and a whole lot of questions.