One Night Bride by Marika Ray
16
Remington
“No, no, no, no…”
Esme’s voice woke me out of a dead sleep. My eyes flew open, and I rolled over, thinking she must be having a bad dream. She was having a bad something alright. She sat with her back to the headboard, her blasted cell phone in her hand, scrolling online. A T-shirt already covered those breasts I’d hoped to see in the light of day. Her dark eyebrows were almost a single line of furrowed frustration. Even her nose was scrunched up in distaste.
“Shit!” she exclaimed, frantically enlarging whatever was on the screen.
“Did you find my nudes online?” I asked as a joke, scrubbing a hand over my face. Damn, I hadn’t slept that deep in a long time.
Esme gasped and nearly dropped her phone when she looked over at me. Well, shit. That did nothing for my self-esteem. Did she forget I was in bed with her? Did she forget the countless orgasms I’d given her last night? I scratched my head. And early this morning. Couldn’t forget those.
“Freaking Poppy!” Esme practically screamed.
I winced and tried to sit up. Apparently there was some drama happening, and if Esme was freaked out enough to yell before coffee, I needed to get my brain in gear.
“What’s going on?” I asked, leaning over to see the screen of her phone.
“This!” Esme shoved the phone in my face, waving it around so much I couldn’t see a damn thing.
I took the phone from her and held it still away from my nose so I actually saw what she was referring to. It looked like a picture of me—and I was looking damn good if I do say so myself in those black slacks and nothing up top but a scarf necktie—with Esme standing next to me. It was one of those candid photos where everyone is in motion. Esme had a glowing smile on her face. I really didn’t see what she was getting so worked up about.
“You look beautiful, honeypoo,” I cooed, not yet grasping the gravity of the situation.
She snatched the phone back and pointed at it with one red-tipped fingernail. “Do you see your hand there?”
This felt like a trap. An innocent, yet awful set of questions I could never get out of without making myself look like an ass.
“Yes,” I said slowly. Cautiously.
“Do you see how your palm is cupped just so?”
I nodded.
“Do you see how your hand is right at the level of my ass?” She shouted the last word in my ear, wiggling the phone to emphasize her point.
I tilted my head to the left and looked at the picture again. Well, now that she pointed it out, it did kind of look like my hand was on her ass.
“And do you see how you look like a stripper? And I’m smiling like a loon?” Her voice had gone shrill.
I looked away from the phone and put a calming hand on her arm. “Esme, honey. I know that looks bad, but there’s a logical explanation. I’m sure no one else thinks I grabbed your ass. Did Poppy send you the picture?”
Her head started to shake, and she pursed her lips before continuing, her eyes holding a look of frenzy that spelled disaster for my day.
“No, she didn’t send it to me like a normal person and ask if she could post it. Nope. That little bitch just posted it on her social media with a lurid caption she knew would stir up trouble.”
I frowned, just now getting the wheels in my head to spin properly. I didn’t exactly want my face out there as a stripper either if I was about to open a nonprofit organization to help young boys.
“What did she say?”
Esme looked back down to the phone and read, “Wondering if the infamous ‘Remy’ can serve hors d’oeuvres at our Friday night poker game. Anyone know where he lives? Or who he is? Maybe Esme Waldo knows… And then Ashley’s already commented on it, saying, and I quote ‘it looks like Tahoe didn’t stay in Tahoe.’”
Esme threw the phone down on the bed and watched it bounce before settling facedown. “Can you believe that shit? What am I going to do?”
I scrubbed a hand over my face again and thought it through. “Well, first we’re going to get up and drink some coffee. Then we’re going to make breakfast and come up with a story.” I glanced over at her, an idea hitting me. “Any chance she’ll take the photo down if you ask her?”
Esme made some flapping noise with her lips. “Please. That woman lives for gossip like this. She wouldn’t take it down for several days, even if I asked nicely. Not until the buzz dies down, and the trouble has already happened.”
I slipped out of bed and grabbed the white comforter to wrap around myself. I didn’t feel like having this conversation naked, nor did I want to put on the pants I’d worn last night that currently sat wrinkled on her floor. Esme stood up too, the T-shirt barely skimming the top of her thighs. Fuck, she was beautiful.
With a loud swish of the comforter as I moved, I came around the bed to stop Esme. Her gaze lifted to mine, the worry clear as day. I pushed her hair behind her shoulder and grazed my thumb down her cheek.
“It’s going to be okay. We’ll handle this together,” I assured her. And I meant it. We were a team, not because of the marriage license, but because I believed in her.
Her shoulders inched down from her ears, and while the wild, worried look hadn’t left her eyes, she seemed willing to accept my help. She dipped her head, and I kissed her forehead before getting out of the way so she could get ready for the day.
I stood in the doorway of her bedroom. “Meet you in the kitchen in a bit? I’ll make omelettes.”
She gave me a half smile, and I figured that was the best I’d get from her while she was panicked. The situation wasn’t ideal, but I’m sure it would all blow over.
I’d just slid our omelettes onto plates when Esme came down the stairs. Her thumbs flew over the screen of her phone. The girl didn’t even look up as she maneuvered through the living room and into the kitchen where she plopped down on a barstool in another business outfit that made me want to mess her up; tweed pants with a bright red shirt and lipstick to match. Her dark hair hung straight as a pin down her back.
“I had my assistant cancel my appointments this morning so we can come up with a positive spin in case this gets out to the general public. Poppy is only friends with people in Auburn Hill, so I doubt this will get out to my following, but we can’t be too sure. Better to make a solid plan and get out ahead of this thing.”
I frowned, putting the hot pan in the sink to cool. She salted her eggs and took a bite, and all the while she hadn’t looked at me. This was not how I wanted our morning after to go. I’d wanted an intimate breakfast, maybe coffee in bed. Not public relations strategizing like we’d done something wrong.
“Esme,” I started, wanting to reconnect with her before we got into the details of her plan. “We didn’t actually do anything wrong. You know that, right?”
Her head whipped up, and she swallowed before answering, her gaze darting away from me. “Sure. I mean, I know I’m an adult and can do whatever I want with a man, but implying I have a thing with a stripper isn’t the image I’d like out there.”
My eyebrows flew up. “It’s not the image I want either, but I think you’re taking this way too—”
Whatever I would have said got cut off by the doorbell ringing. And then ringing again. And again.
“Jesus,” Esme grumbled. “It has to be my family. No one else would be that rude.” She slid off the barstool and headed over to get the door.
“Esme Waldo, we taught you better than to have strippers at your party! Is that why you wouldn’t let me come to your retreat?”
I couldn’t quite see the door from my seat at the bar, but that voice sounded familiar.
“Mom! Dad!” Esme’s voice held more than a note of surprise.
Shit. I put my fork down with a clank. I wouldn’t be eating anytime soon based on the nerves that hit my gut knowing Esme’s parents were here. That definitely wasn’t what I had planned for the morning after we finally got back in bed together.
“He’s still here?” her dad boomed, coming around the corner and seeing me sitting at the bar.
“Chief Waldo, sir. Nice to see you again.” I stood and put my hand out.
He stared at my hand with narrowed eyes before reluctantly shaking. His grip was strong, a not-to-subtle clue he was not happy with me.
“Mrs. Waldo.” I nodded to Esme’s mom as she came into the kitchen, giving her a smile that faded when she only lifted a single eyebrow at me. Well, shit, now I knew where Esme got that look from.
“I would like an explanation,” Mrs. Waldo said to Esme, her tone holding an edge of hurt behind the anger.
Esme sighed and then pulled herself up straight like she was ready for the firing squad.
“How about we head into the living room where we’ll be more comfortable?” I suggested, gesturing in that direction. I wasn’t going to let Esme do all the talking and take all the blame. She and I were in this together, and I intended to prove that to her right now.
Her parents filed out of the kitchen, but not before Chief Waldo bared his teeth at me and Esme shook her head at his antics. I put my hand on her back and guided her to the living room, sitting right next to her on the couch while her parents took the two chairs.
Esme looked over at me, looking far younger than the image she portrayed as a successful business woman. “I’m going to tell them the whole truth,” she said softly.
“That would be a nice start,” her mom bantered back.
Esme cringed. I nodded at her, thinking honesty would be the best policy, though I hadn’t taken that route with my own parents. Esme turned to face them.
“Remington and I are married,” she blurted out.
I blinked, thinking I would have warmed them up to that idea, but ripping the Band-Aid off might be a good approach too. Reaching over, I took her hand in mine and gave her a squeeze.
Her parents sat perfectly still, their gazes following our locked hands. Her mother was the first to break the silence.
“It happened again, Jim.”
Chief Waldo growled, turning to face his wife like we weren’t even in the same room. “Did we do something wrong? Raising them?”
Mrs. Waldo shook her head. “I don’t think I pushed them too hard about the marriage and babies thing. Maybe I should have been tougher.”
“It’s not your fault, Susie. I should have been clear on our expectations. I just never thought after raising five daughters, changing diapers, feeding them three meals a day, going to all their sporting events, and funding proms they’d betray us like this.”
“Okay, enough!” Esme ground out. All heads turned in her direction.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the fact is, Remington and I met in Tahoe and got married accidentally. So let’s lay off the guilt trip and move forward.”
Mrs. Waldo tilted her head. “How does one get accidentally married?”
“Unfortunately, there was alcohol involved,” I piped in, earning another glare from Chief Waldo. “Turns out though, I rather enjoy being married to Esme and would like to date her.”
“You do the dating before the marrying, you dimwit,” Chief Waldo groused, his face turning an unhealthy red.
“Dad, please.” Esme leaned across and put her hand on her dad’s forearm. “We realize we went about this all wrong, but give us some space to figure things out.”
“What’s to figure out? He wants to date you, so sounds like the marriage will work just fine.” Mrs. Waldo clapped her hands together. “All that’s left to do is plan the reception!”
I grinned. Esme groaned. Chief looked ready to spit nails.
“I’d like a word outside with you, Remington,” Chief announced.
Esme let go of my hand and stood up, like she’d physically get between me and her dad. It was sweet, but foolish. I could handle myself just fine.
“Dad, please.”
His face softened as he looked at his daughter, and I could tell he was a good father. If I was blessed with a daughter someday and she came home with a stranger she’d married one drunken night, I’d be pissed too.
“We’re just going to talk, sweetheart,” he grumbled, giving her a pat on the cheek.
He stepped around her and I followed him, heading for the front door. There was a huge wood patio there, with views of the ocean that would make a grown man weep. He went all the way to the railing and glanced down before turning back and staring me down. His face was no longer red, but by the look in his eye and the way his handlebar mustache twitched, I could tell he was right there on the edge.
“What’s your last name, son?” he asked, surprising me.
“Roth, sir. My family is from Wyoming.”
He harrumphed and tugged on the waistband of his uniform pants. He walked over to me and crossed his arms over his chest. “Until I get the background report back, I’ll just tell you one thing. Esme and Izzy were about six the first time I took them to a neighbor’s farm and had them ride horses. My shy Izzy took to it like a fish to water, which surprised the hell out of me. I looked over at Esme and she sat on top of that old mare like she was a statue. I went over and her eyes darted from the horse’s mane to my face and back again, wide with fright.”
He paused in his storytelling and I wondered where he could be going with all this.
“I laid a hand on her knee and told her everything would be just fine. She just needed to trust me. I led the horse in a circle until I was dizzy. Esme finally relaxed enough to grin and sway in the saddle. Izzy called out to her across the field and Esme told me she thought she could do it herself.”
I got nervous right about then. I knew a lot about horses and how they can sense the mood of the rider. Nervous riders and horses don’t mix.
Chief looked out at the ocean, remembering. “She galloped over to her sister and wouldn’t you know it? The poor horse strode right into a hole in the grass. She went down hard and Esme flew off with a scream. Of course, we all came running, but I’d heard the snap. The horse limped away and Esme broke her arm.”
His gaze swung back to me and I could have sworn there was a brightness lurking in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I promised my little girl she’d be okay, and I let her down. That was the last time I ever made that mistake.” He poked me in the chest. “You will make her happy, married or divorced, or I promise I’ll make your life a living hell. One tear on her cheek, Remington Roth from Wyoming, and I’ll have your balls strung up on that hideous statue in the roundabout in town. We clear?”
I swallowed. “Crystal. I promise you I won’t hurt her, Chief. I’m already half in love with her.”
He sized me up before speaking. “I didn’t think you looked like a dumbass.”