Anyone But Rich (Anyone But..., #1)(75)

How was I supposed to argue with that?

I lobbed her a few feet—probably a few too many—into the air. She flopped down on the bed in a laughing heap. “It’s perfect.”

“Remind me why we’re staying at the cheapest, most run-down hotel in West Valley?”

“Come here,” she growled. She beckoned me forward with her index finger. She still wore her wedding dress, and the combination of blushing red cheeks and the drunken, wild light in her eyes was both adorable and sexy. It was even more adorable when I considered that it had taken only two glasses of wine to get her to this level of intoxication.

I kicked off my shoes and crawled on the bed to lie beside her.

She bit her lip and touched her finger to my chin. “I wanted to have our wedding night in a rinky-dink hotel, because I don’t ever want you to think I care about your money. I want our first real memory as a married couple to be somewhere shitty like this, because it doesn’t matter if we’re in a shitty hotel or a luxury suite.” She laughed at herself. “Apparently I get sappy when I’m drunk.”

“This isn’t drunk,” I said. “You’re tipsy. Another glass or two, and maybe that would be drunk. For you.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”

“No. I want you sober for tonight. And once I get you going, it’ll clear some of the alcohol from your system.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind being here?” she asked. “I know it probably sounds stupid, but—”

I put my finger to her lips, partly because I wanted to touch them. They looked so impossibly soft. “It’s not stupid. And I think it’s incredibly sweet that you want to make sure I don’t think you’re a gold digger.”

“I never said gold digger. Do you think I’m a gold digger?”

I laughed. “No. It’s a common term. I’m just saying it was considerate of you to think of that. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And you have to admit, it’s kind of fun being in a cheap hotel, right?”

I looked around. “I mean, the carpet is interesting,” I said. “It’s kind of like they picked a pattern so ugly and busy that you wouldn’t even know if it had blood or any other bodily fluids on it.”

“Ew,” Kira said. “Don’t say bodily fluids.”

“You mean I shouldn’t say there are probably people’s bodily fluids on this comforter, or the sheets?”

Kira sat up a little straighter and grimaced. “I’m not even a germophobe. Why is this working on me?”

“Because it’s not germs. It’s bodily fluids.”

Kira groaned. “You know what? You can try your little games on me. I don’t care. This is my fantasy wedding night, and I’m getting what I want. So there.”

“Hey, whether it’s in a rat-infested cardboard box or silk sheets, I’ll take you where I can get you.”

She gripped my cheeks and pulled me down into a kiss. “I can’t tell if that was romantic, or I’m just so tipsy that I thought it was.”

“Then I get the final vote. It was so romantic that you should reward your new husband.”

“What kind of reward did you have in mind?”

“Sex. I had sex in mind.”

Kira laughed. “That was direct.”

I crawled on top of her and pulled one strap of her dress down her shoulder. “I’m in a direct kind of mood.”



Kira stood outside my parents’ house with me two days after our wedding. She was wearing a hilariously formal pantsuit.

“You know this isn’t a legal briefing, right?” I asked.

“I dress up when I get nervous,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

“Don’t be nervous. They’ll—”

The door swung open. My father was holding a glass of liquor, even though it was barely noon. “Come in,” he said, waving us in.

I had to take Kira by the hand to get her to actually come inside. My mother was sitting on the couch with a glass of wine beside her.

“Come on, sit,” my father urged.

Kira and I took a seat on the couch across from my mother.

“Want anything to drink? I’ve got a brandy fresh out of—”

“No, thank you,” I said. “We’re fine.”

He muttered something, held up his nearly empty glass, and shuffled off toward the kitchen.

My mother looked to be holding her liquor better than my father was.

“Come to gloat, I presume?” my mother asked.

“We’re here because we want to know if we should be looking over our shoulders, or if the two of you are ready to stop meddling.”

She waved off the question, blinking in annoyance. “You’ve already done enough damage, Richard. You think your father and I would resort to petty revenge?” She sniffed. “No. There’s nothing to be gained from wasting our time with you or her anymore. You’ve won. Is that what you wanted to hear me say?”

Kira leaned forward with surprising quickness. She was speaking before I could stop her.

“You’re damn right we did,” Kira half shouted. Her eyes went a little wide a second later, and she sat back against the couch. “Sorry,” she muttered.