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HARPER
*
I COULDN’T STAY AWAY from the news. I had to know what was going on. The scenes were frightening: emergency workers carrying body bags, abandoned burned out cars, houses leveled to the foundation.
There were images of firefighters, sooty and exhausted sitting on the ground and scarfing down food from Styrofoam boxes, the blazing fire a too close for comfort backdrop. But there was hope. There had been intermittent showers this morning and rain was expected tomorrow, as well.
I wanted to call him. But did I have the right to?
I grabbed my phone off the bedside table and checked the weather online instead. Same forecast as the local news.
I said a silent prayer. He would be coming home soon.
Time to apply the forward motion to my personal life as well. I might not be ready for marriage, but moving in seemed doable.
I found the fake rock Rowley had pointed out to me in the backyard garden and pried open the panel and dropped the emergency house key onto my palm. I had second, third, and fourth thoughts as I stuffed my belongings in a couple of trash bags and then hauled the bags from the cottage to his house. I was doing something that could prove as humiliating as the prom fiasco. What if he was over me? Yes, he'd made me his beneficiary, but maybe that was just because he felt sorry for me.
I couldn't bring myself to go so far as to unpack. If I needed to get out of there I wanted to be able to make a hasty exit.
I spotted the ring box atop his dresser. Relief surged through me. He hadn’t returned it, or sold it, or whatever one did with an unaccepted engagement ring.
I opened the lid, telling myself I would just put it on for a second. I posed with it in the mirror, flashing it around to catch the light. What harm would there be to wear it for awhile?
I took off all my clothes and slipped on a slinky thigh-high nightgown. I’d gone a little crazy buying lingerie during our short time together. I climbed between the cool sheets. What if he kicked me out of his bed? I would just shrivel up and die probably.
He didn't return that night. It shook my determination some, but the next night I returned to his bed wearing a lacy number. And the following night, I chose a sheer babydoll nightie.
I jerked awake, my heart pumping. I narrowed my eyes against the bright lights. My pulse rate leaped as I recalled whose bed I was sleeping in. I sat up and clutched the sheet to hide my near nakedness and twisted around to find Rowley's broad body blocking the doorway.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. "You're home safe."
For his part, he looked flat-out stunned. What a stupendously stupid idea I'd had. It was certainly too late to make a dignified exit now.
"I come home to find Goldilocks in my bed." Funnily enough, actually not so funny, he did sound gruff as a bear. He glanced over at the trash bags filled with my stuff and then back at me. His gaze clearly zeroed in on my hand, more specifically on the ring I had no right to be wearing.
"You'd probably prefer Gingerlocks," I said with a timid smile.
He didn't return the smile. Actually the closest he’d gotten to anything resembling a smile since he’d broken it off with me was a slight quirk of his lips.
"I'll leave."
"Darlin', that's exactly where you belong. But nothing's changed. I still want marriage."
"But I've moved in."
"No. You moved garbage bags filled with clothes a few hundred yards is all."
"Okay," I said quietly.
He tilted his head forward. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."
I pulled in a shaky breath and then said very distinctly. "Yes, I will marry you."
I’d stunned him again. I caught the flash of surprise in his hazel eyes. "Now that wasn't so difficult," he drawled. "Grab a dress and we'll go to Vegas."
"Tonight? You must be exhausted."
"Just get a dress or wear that sheet, whichever. Makes no difference to me."
I didn’t opt for the sheet. I remembered my last mad search for something that would pass as a negligee. My wardrobe hadn’t improved much since that night. I had only a few summer dresses to choose from. I dug through the bags stuffed with my clothes, for something with more oomph. I ended up piecing together an outfit from some of my band gear. I combined an off-the-shoulder white lace top with a snug silver bandage skirt. I curled my hair quickly with a hot iron, applied some mascara, and then a hint of berry lipstick.
At least, I had the right nightwear for a wedding night. I tucked a satiny red nightie in my purse.
When I presented myself to him, his gaze swept over me. His eyes darkened with lust.
“Well, hell,” he said.
Of course, he looked handsome and respectable in a suit and tie. And I looked like trouble in my lace shirt and skintight skirt.
“This is all I could come up with on such short notice. If you want to put this off until I can buy something more appropriate—”
“That will do,” he said, cutting me off.
He insisted on driving, but he drove with his window open for the blasts of cool air and he'd turned the music up loud.
By the time we said our vows, he was clearly dead on his feet. He dragged himself to the hotel room and sat down heavily on the bed. I slipped into the bathroom with the nightie.
I came out to find him asleep on the bed, still wearing his shoes. I carefully untied them and eased them off his feet. I considered opening the complimentary champagne we'd been given at the wedding chapel, but drinking celebratory wine alone was just sad.
I was all keyed up. I looked at the imposing man lying crosswise on the bed. There was no way I was going to be able to shift him and it would be heartless to wake him. I tried watching some TV with the sound off, but there was something about that bland, beige, soulless room that made me suddenly claustrophobic.
I needed some air. This time I wasn't choking on the fact that I'd made a huge mistake. This wasn't deja vu. This panic came from worrying that I might let him down. It didn't help knowing that he was plenty worried about that himself. That he thought he'd taken a big chance marrying me.
I pulled off the nightie and put my top and skirt back on. I slipped my feet into my pumps and grabbed my purse. I leaned over and gave him a whisper of a kiss on his stubbled jaw. My fantasy had come true. I'd landed Rowley Ford. Okay, maybe not quite in the sweeping romantic way I'd envisioned or daydreamed about, but still I'd gotten him. I hoped Kat would finally back off and stop stalking me.
I closed the door and then realized I'd forgotten the key card. I knew he'd get the wrong idea if he were to wake and find me missing.
I wondered how long it would take for him to realize he had nothing to worry about. I couldn't foresee crossing that threshold of trust in the very near future.
Instead of disturbing him with a text, I tore a page out of the paperback I had in my purse and scrawled a note. Locked myself out. Going to get a snack. Call me once you're awake.
What a silly way to phrase it. Of course, he'd have to be awake to read my note. I added an ‘I love you’ and then quickly obliterated it with scribbles. He'd been clear about not wanting those words from me. I signed Goldilocks with a string of kiss signs before sliding the paper under the door.
Everything about this casino was huge including the elevator. I stepped out onto the main floor. The high ceilings and massive chandeliers, combined with the huge patterns on the carpet, made me feel small.
There were gamblers at the roulette table and playing blackjack, but otherwise it was relatively quiet. But then it was two in the morning on a Wednesday.
I heard the clink of coins dropping. They had a couple of the old-fashioned coin-operated slot machines. I remembered seeing my father feeding quarters into a machine like that on one of our rare family vacations. They couldn't get a sitter and they weren't going to give up their weekend away just because of us. Matt and I had been confined to the hotel room almost the entire trip.
On impulse, I headed toward a digital slot machine and pulled up a stool. This was my lucky day, right? I'd married the man of my dreams. Maybe my lucky streak would extend to winning a jackpot.
There were only two people playing in that aisle. One was an older lady with a big, teased hairdo and silver and turquoise jewels around her neck, wrists, and fingers. She sat at the end of the row, pulling the lever with grim determination. She'd probably planted herself there all night. Two machines away from her was a young guy with a beat-up fedora, a scruffy beard, and arms loaded with homemade tattoos.
A tired looking waitress stopped beside me and asked if I wanted a complimentary drink.
"Sure, a mojito," I said.
She wrinkled her nose. "Between you and me, you're best sticking with something like a martini or a gin and tonic."
"Okay. A gin and tonic."
I found myself making some graceful hand gestures with my left hand just so I could admire my beautiful ring. I was spending more time looking at my ring than playing the slot machine. The diamond caught the light from the chandeliers and flashed in the most pleasing manner. Since we hadn't bought any bands, the engagement ring was doing double duty.
The air conditioning was set to frigid. I shivered and rubbed my arms. Why hadn't I brought a jacket? What if Rowley didn't wake until morning? I supposed there was a way to get a duplicate card from the desk. I'd try that after I played a few more games.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the fedora-wearing guy working his way down the aisle. He was kind of zigzagging, playing a slot machine on the row behind me and then hopping back to my row. I figured him for one of those gamblers who believes that if he hits all the slots in the building that one will surely pay off.
Minutes later, the guy landed on the seat next to me. "Howdy," he said.
I acknowledged him with a small smile then returned to trying to win a jackpot.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked.
"I've got a complimentary one coming," I said. Where had the waitress gone? It seemed to be taking awhile for a simple gin and tonic.
He shifted on his seat, bringing his face closer, trying to get in my field of peripheral vision. I could smell stale sweat mingled with some drugstore aftershave which I could almost taste.
"Let me buy you a real one. Those are mostly soda water or mixer."
Time to nip this in the bud. I looked away from the slot machine for a second. The man's eyes were a watery blue. "I'm good with the free one. I'm just entertaining myself until my husband comes to take me for dinner." That was a lame excuse. But surely Vegas of all places had all-night diners. Come to think of it, I was actually hungry.
Mention of a husband had done the trick. The guy pretended renewed interest in his machine.
"Hey, hon," a deep voice said on my other side. Couldn't a girl just throw her money away on this stupid game without being hassled? With an annoyed frown, I turned to find a bald headed security guard beside me. Now what? I thought.
He had a droopy mustache shot through with gray that reminded me of a sheriff from an old Western.
"Honey, you got an ID?" He squared his shoulders and hooked his thumb in his belt.
I opened my purse and began rifling through it for my wallet. I'd had to show my license when I got married, so I knew I had it. Why did I never clean this damn thing out? It was like I'd saved every receipt for the past ten years. My hands were actually trembling. I had every right to be sitting there, why was I so nervous?
"We both know you aren't old enough." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "So step away from the machine."
The waitress showed up with my gin and tonic at that awkward moment.
"You card her?" the guard asked the waitress.
"Yeah, sure," the waitress lied, but the drink stayed on the tray. She wasn't ready to risk her job by handing a drink to an underage customer.
Moments later, my intimidating husband rounded the corner. His hair was sleep ruffled, his shirt tails were hanging out, and his loosened tie hung at an angle. He didn't look fully awake.
The security guard gave him one glance and straightened his posture, like a soldier coming to attention.
"You know this girl?"
I continued to root around in my purse.
"Depends. What's she done?" Rowley's voice was a gravelly drawl. He sounded sleepy and oh so sexy.
I shot him an annoyed look.
"Is she old enough to be gambling?"
"Yeah, just." Rowley yawned. "Baby, show the man your driver's license and let's get out of here."
I had a eureka moment. I unzipped the exterior pocket I rarely used, where I'd stashed the marriage license for safe-keeping. I pulled the wallet out and flipped it open for the guard to see.
"Thank you, ma'am." Then he turned to Rowley and said. "Enjoy your evening, sir. Sorry, for any inconvenience." The wannabe sheriff would have surely tipped his hat respectfully, if he'd had one.
The waitress set the drink down by the slot machine and hurried on her way.
I scooted off the stool and wrapped my arms around my husband. "You found my message?"
"Why the hell didn't you get a replacement key card at the desk."
"I would have eventually. But there was nothing to occupy myself with in the room." I clung to him trying to get some warmth.
"Jesus, Harper, you couldn't find anything to entertain yourself with for a goddamn hour?"
I shrugged. "I'm starving can we get something to eat?"
"The twenty-four hour coffee shop around the corner serves a decent hamburger," the fedora guy piped up.
I felt Rowley stiffen and I imagined he was giving the fedora guy a warning look over my head.
"Thanks," I told the man over my shoulder and then tugged Rowley's arm, pulling him away, leaving my gin and tonic sitting there untouched.