Hitched(9)

“Truck didn’t break down this time,” he says with a nod to my old beater. “That a first?”

“Nope,” I say with a tight smile, determined to make the best of this. I motion toward the front of the Victorian mansion. “Shall we? So I can save an alpaca and you can get your winery off the ground?”

I lead him inside the stately old home that serves as Colton J. Ashford, Esquire’s office building. I have a love-hate relationship with this room, a place I’ve only visited when dealing with something to do with my grandmother’s illness or death. Velvet couches, Turkish rugs, original wood floors, and paintings of Victorian-era children hanging on the walls give it a perfectly period feel.

Not a thing is out of place.

It looks so warm and welcoming, like my parents’ house.

But this room has one thing going for it that my parents’ house never had—an aura of kindness. For all my grandma’s faults, she managed to find a very good attorney with a delightful staff.

Like Rae, the sweet receptionist, who glances up as we enter, sweeps an appraising look over my wedding gown, and immediately mutters, “Uh-oh.”

She manages to add a sympathetic smile that makes me feel like I’ve been wrapped in a friendly hug, but I don’t miss the way she subtly pulls the phone closer to her as I approach.

I sigh again.

I’d like to say that what happened to the phone system—and the lights—at the reading of Gram’s will a few days ago wasn’t my fault, except…it was.

“Hi, Rae. Is Mr. Ashford in?”

She touches her hair and peeks at the tall door behind her carved mahogany desk, then rises with a smile. “Hope St. Claire, who is this delicious drink of a man?” she asks instead of answering me.

Blake smiles at her, because he smiles at everyone who’s not me, and he reaches over the desk to shake her hand. “Blake O’Dell. Rae, is it? Love the necklace.”

“Blake’s my husband,” I say as Rae’s hand goes to the grape pendant dangling from a simple chain around her neck. “We got married over in Happy Cat, so I need to—” I break off as a familiar voice filters from behind the closed office door. I frown. “Is that Kyle in with Mr. Ashford? He’s not here to talk about Gram’s will, is he?”

“So you already got married?” Rae asks.

“Already married,” I confirm. “An hour ago. In Happy Cat.”

“Hence the dress,” Blake says.

She smiles at him, takes in his dirt-streaked jeans wrapped around his powerful thighs, work boots, and the way his simple gray tee shirt is molding to his chest.

Or maybe that’s me noticing how his clothes fit, and she’s just wondering why I’d be in a dress while he looks like he was out plowing the fields.

By hand.

Getting dirty.

So, so dirty.

Maybe I should’ve negotiated conjugal rights during this minor prison sentence.

“So why is Kyle here?” I repeat.

“I’m just going to have a quick word with Mr. Ashford,” Rae says. “You two sit. I’ll order cupcakes from down the road too. So much to celebrate! All this love in the air.”

She knocks quickly, then ducks into Mr. Ashford’s office, while I crane my neck to see inside.

Kyle is in there!

With a woman. Wearing a white hat that looks like it has a veil attached.

“Oh, shit,” I whisper. My heart fires like I’m on a ten-mile run, and I break out in a cold sweat.

If he got married already…

But he just met her. On Tinder.

Like five days ago. How can this possibly be happening?!

I need a paper bag.

If he beat me to it—if he got married first—Chewpaca is doomed.

Doomed!

“Hope?” Blake asks.

“My phone,” I whisper. “My phone is in my truck.”

The lamp on the table beside the velvet couch flickers, and Blake grabs me by the shoulders, sending more goosebumps prickling across my skin, and guides me to the center of the room, away from anything electrical. “Why do you need your phone?”

“To call Olivia and ask her to go hide Chewpaca. Because if Kyle’s in there and he’s already married—”

His eyes go wide, but before he can respond, the door swings open, and Rae beckons us. “Come on in, you crazy lovebirds,” she says with a smile that’s both panicked and genuine. “What a great reason to have a problem!”

I charge into the office so fast I only belatedly realize Blake might not have followed. But when I glance back, he’s there, right behind me as Rae closes us into the office, his brows drawing tight, lips thin, eyes flashing at the sight of Kyle in a suit, holding hands with a red-headed, white-hat-with-veil-wearing stranger.

She’s pretty, with freckles, big green eyes, and a chest smaller than his usual, and she’s watching us with obvious caution.

“Hope!” Mr. Ashford rises from his desk. He’s only in his fifties, but has been silver up top for over a decade. “Rae tells me you got married this morning as well.”

My heart sinks to my toes, dragging all of my other organs with it. I think my stomach gets snarled up somewhere near my femur. “As well?”

“We were just finishing up Kyle and Cara’s ceremony.”