“Damn. I should’ve known there’s no way you’d be the second one of us to get married,” Killian says slowly.
“You think? Unlike you, I didn’t want to marry anybody. You know I don’t believe in that kind of thing. I just wanted to bang her if I saw her again.” If I can get hard over her thong, things will definitely work with her actual body. And there’s medical proof: I got morning wood today in her room.
“It sort of works out, though,” Cole says. “You’ve been having trouble with your pants python since New York, right? So your new wife can cure you.”
“No way. Uh-uh. Not buying the cow when I can get the milk for free.” I’m not going to be forced into marriage, even if my dick does get overly excited around her. Weddings are a shortcut to hell. “I’m going to annul this and sue her.”
Max gives a questioning grunt. He’s asking, For what?
“For this.” I gesture at the ring. “She coerced me while I was drunk. I’m sure Aiden can think of something.”
Aiden Hill is my lawyer. And a complete asshole. There’s no legal loophole he can’t find. Harvard Law trained him well.
“Too bad your hookup turned out so weird.” Killian’s all sympathy.
“Tell me about it.” I bet she put something in the air at the hotel in New York to make sure my dick wouldn’t work anymore. I don’t know if poisons like that exist, but I’m sure something can be formulated for the right price. You can get anything online these days. I’ll just see a specialist about the problem. Once I’m properly detoxed, I should be able to go back to the days of loving all women equally.
“Here you are, miss…” Our waiter’s voice makes me stop talking. I’m not letting my current situation make the front page of a tabloid.
“Hello, Max,” comes a soft greeting in a voice that seems a bit too familiar.
Max beams. “Bean!”
True sibling love for him to say her name out loud.
“Hey, guys, say hello!”
I turn around to look at Max’s baby sister…
Then nearly fall off my chair when I see Becca—my wife of one day—standing there.
Chapter Ten
Devlin
What the hell?
I blink several times. But it’s really her, looking fresh in a pale cream dress with a flaring skirt. Her long hair hangs loosely around her heart-shaped face, and she hasn’t bothered with makeup except for some pink lip gloss. Still, she looks hotter and more kissable than any woman I’ve ever known. Pearls gleam on her cute little ears.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. What’s wrong with me that I find her ears cute?
And now my dick’s rising, even though it’s not an appropriate occasion. If Max notices, he’s going to stab it with his fork.
Her violet eyes scan all of us. I brace myself as a potent cocktail of panic and “oh fuck” jolts through me. She’s going to point at me and say something asinine like “Oh my God, there’s my husband!”
Then Max will have to pick up the butter knife next to his plate and turn me into sushi. Not just because I married her. But for all the shit I said.
I rack my brain, doing my best to think of at least one nice thing I might have mentioned. Nope. I compared her to a cow, among other things. Any decent lawyer will get him off the murder charge.
But she looks right through me. Confusion mixes with relief. What is going on here? Is she going to hide our marital status? Why? What does she really want from me?
Max called her Bean. So maybe this isn’t the Becca, I think with mild desperation. Just somebody who looks a lot like her—because surely God can’t be this cruel!
Except I feel like I can smell sweet pears. Shit.
I angle my head to check out her ring finger, but her skirt’s in the way. Ugh.
“Sit,” Max says, putting all the warmth in the world into that one syllable, pulling out the empty chair on the other side.