Cayla never would have imaginedthe weekday morning routine could be an erotic experience. Then again, she’d never had anyone else’s help getting it accomplished. Coming out to find that Holt had wrangled Maddie out of bed, gotten her dressed, fed—with vegetables—and otherwise more or less ready for school, all so she herself could sleep in a bit had filled her with so much gratitude that had there been time and an empty house, she quite possibly would have jumped her new husband. Instead, she’d hurried to get dressed and piled in the car with them both for a weirdly domestic ride to school, where Holt and Maddie had sung along to some adult-friendly kid movie playlist he’d found, and she drank her first cup of coffee without having to risk third-degree burns down her throat. If not for the persistent throb between her legs, she’d have been certain she was dreaming again. But surely the dream version of this scenario would have seen her actually following through on her less than PG expression of gratitude.
“What’s on your list for today?”
Cayla blinked, dragging her mind away from the start of that fantastic daydream. “I’ve got a meeting first thing with Misty Pennebaker. She’s coming in early, before she opens Moonbeams and Sweet Dreams.”
“That’s the flower and gift shop downtown, right?”
“Yeah. It’s her shop. We work together a lot on events. This happens to be about her upcoming wedding. She was the bride I was out with at karaoke night and is a good friend of mine.”
As they neared her little building, Cayla spotted Misty’s car out front already. “Oh, no.”
Holt tensed. “What is it?”
“What am I going to tell her about us? What are we going to tell everyone about us? We weren’t even dating, so far as anyone knew, and now we’re married. People are going to expect a story to go along with that.”
He relaxed as he turned into the gravel lot. “Do you trust her with the truth?”
She considered the question. “Yes. She’s no gossip. But this is going to keep coming up. We have to have something to tell people about our relationship.”
“Then we’ll figure it out. Are you free for lunch?”
“Yeah. My other appointments aren’t until this afternoon.”
“Okay. I’ll pop back over then and bring food, and we can get our story straight.” Apparently decided, he slid out of the driver’s seat.
“Well, okay then,” Cayla muttered. She got out herself in time to see Holt wave at a gaping Misty.
He circled around the car and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch. And lock the door.” Then he was striding across the street and up the hill to Bad Boy Bakers.
Cayla watched him go, unable to stop herself from admiring the absolute perfection of how he filled out a pair of jeans.
“Girl, what was that?” Misty demanded. “You’re coming to work in the same car?” She lowered her voice. “Did he spend the night? Did you finally break your sex fast?”
I wish.
On a sigh, Cayla scooped a hand through her hair, trying to figure out what to say.
Misty lunged forward, grabbing her left hand. “Is that…? Are those…? Cayla! Did you two get married?”
She blinked down at the rings, thinking it odd that it didn’t feel strange to have slid them on this morning. It had been six years since she’d worn wedding rings, and the set she’d been given by Arthur had been massive and ostentatious, so heavy they were almost their own form of mental shackles, reminding her she belonged to him. Her grandmother’s rings, slipped on in a judge’s chambers by a man she’d known for only a matter of months, felt right there. She ran a thumb along the warm circle of gold.
“We, um, kind of eloped yesterday.”
Misty squeed so loud that three guys walked out of Willie Thompson’s Garage next door to see what the fuss was about. Offering them a little finger waggle, Cayla grabbed her friend by the elbow and towed her inside.
“Oh my God, tell me everything! Don’t leave out any details.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“The incredible hunk of hotness that you’ve been crushing on for months didn’t sweep you off your feet?”
“Not exactly.”
Picking up on Cayla’s less than celebratory mood, she sobered. “You don’t seem entirely happy. Was it some kind of crazy drunk mistake?”
“No. No, it was entirely on purpose. I need more coffee for this story.” Moving past her to the little kitchenette, Cayla went through the motions of making another pot and admitted what she’d told no one else in town about her ex-husband, before explaining how Arthur was out of prison and that they’d decided to go through with Holt’s blurted cover to protect Maddie. “So… yeah, we got married yesterday.”
A mug clasped between her palms, coffee all but forgotten, Misty absorbed all of it. “Is that actually going to work?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea if it’ll be enough to keep Arthur from gaining any sort of custody. I don’t know how long it’s going to go on or what it’s going to do to Maddie when things are over.”
“Or what it’s going to do to you?” Misty asked gently.
Cayla collapsed back against the counter, wishing she’d already gotten some furniture for this place besides what was in the tiny office in the back. “That’s… a consideration.”
“How… real is this marriage going to be?”
“I don’t know that either. We’re both attracted. I’m pretty sure we both have some kind of feelings for each other beyond friendship. But we didn’t… well… consummate anything last night. He hasn’t even really kissed me.” She told Misty what he’d said before bed. “It seems like he’s open to more, but he’s making sure we don’t rush into anything on that front.”
“That’s a very knight-in-shining-armor-fairy-tale-prince sort of thing to do.”
“Yeah,” she sighed.
“You don’t agree?”
“I do, and I don’t. It’s sensible. Considerate. But all these feelings are spun up inside me. He’s so amazing with Maddie and incredibly thoughtful on so many fronts. Just seeing what needs doing or what might help and doing it without having to be asked. He’s like a friggin’ unicorn. It would be so very easy to be swept away by that.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“I’ve been swept away before, and the prince turned out to be a malignant toad.”
“Are you worried Holt will turn out to be something he’s not?”
“In the sense that he’s somehow a bad guy? No, not at all. A bad guy wouldn’t have gone out of his way to do what he’s done to protect us. But I can’t help worrying and wondering how long it’ll be before he starts to feel trapped by his own nobility.”
“You think he will?”
“I don’t know. Despite the fact that he’s attracted, he wasn’t going to pursue me before circumstance forced his hand. I don’t know if he’ll regret this decision, so I’m trying to take things slow and not be swept away by all this forced proximity. No matter how insanely appealing I find him.”
“Makes sense. But are you hoping something more real and permanent grows out of this?”
“I wasn’t looking for that. It’s why I haven’t dated since my divorce. But, I mean, you’ve seen the man. He’s smart, funny, sexy as hell, and he adores my daughter. I’d be crazy not to hope this turns into something real.” She set her mug aside. “It goes without saying that we won’t be sharing the real story with the public, so keep this to yourself.”
“Cone of silence, for sure. And I’ll do whatever I can to help with things, including slipping the details you want spread into the gossip vine.”
That was a thought.
“You just might be onto something. We haven’t had time to figure out what the official story is going to be yet, but obviously there has to be one, and it would be better if we find a way to control the narrative.”
“Well, there’s one very obvious way to do that.”
“And that is?”
Misty’s brown eyes twinkled. “Throw a Surprise-We-Eloped! shindig and invite everyone you know.”