Page 36 of Perfect Boy

“Maybe it is. Maybe I’m fucking nuts. But if it keeps you here and you get to keep chasing your dreams, I’m okay with that.” He shrugs. “Look, I have to go to practice. Just think about it, okay?”

As he starts to turn, my voice stops him. “Watson?”

“Yeah, Tiny Dancer?”

“You actually mean this? You’d really do this for me?” I take a step closer. “Even though you hardly know me?”

“Hell yeah, I would. And I know you enough.” He reaches down, brushing his thumb against my chin and tilting my head upward. “I want to help you, Ryann. Take my help.”

My heart is beating so fast. I have no idea what I’m about to say. I know in the long run, this decision is probably going to bite me in the ass. But I can’t help but do what my brain is telling me.

“I’ll marry you,” I croak. “As long as you’re sure. I mean, obviously, we’ll be getting a divorce at some point. But…this is your first marriage. Are you sure you want to waste it on me?”

“Damn straight, I do. Wouldn’t want my first wife to be anyone else, Tiny Dancer.” He winks, dropping his hand. “Meet me at the courthouse at three o’clock.”

My mouth hangs open. “As in, like…today?”

Walking backward, he gives me a dimpled grin. “Hey, the sooner we get you wifed up, the sooner you can get that green card, right?” Jerking his chin upward, he holds his hand up. “See ya soon, wifey.”

I watch as he turns around, strutting casually to his truck before climbing in and driving away.

Like he didn’t just ask me to marry him.

Like he isn’t risking his entire future just to keep me here.

My whole life, I’ve been trained to look for the worst in people. But I’m not sure there’s anything bad inside of that man.

And here I am, using him to stay.

Watson Gentry offered to marry me. Maybe I’ve lost my mind…because I said yes.

Watson

I keep glancing in my rearview mirror, seeing Ryann rooted in the same spot I left her moments ago until she’s just a blip in my mirror. Then, I turn down the street and can no longer see her.

I was up all night, trying to come up with a plan. Something, anything, to keep her here. This is risky. Not only with the law, but my heart too. I’ve had a thing for that girl since the moment we shared a class together and I watched her float through the room, catching the attention of literally everyone. But this? Getting married? I’m fucking done for.

She isn’t the Hallmark type of girl. She doesn’t do touchy-feely shit. But being married is a big deal. It’ll force her to spend time with me without constantly pushing me away. And at the end of it, once she gets her visa, if she still doesn’t want me the way I want her, I’ll let her go. Until then, once she’s my wife, I’m pulling out all the stops to make her fall in love with me.

I know it’s crazy. And, yeah, my mother might kill me, but I’m willing to take the risk. Because Ryann is one of those girls. The kind you can’t help but fall for because she’s so damn enthralling. She’s talented. She’s sassy. She’s funny. Smart. And she really doesn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks of her. Everything about her pulls me in and keeps me there.

She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And in a few hours, she’s going to be my wife.

I just hope she doesn’t change her mind first.

15

Ryann

Ilook at myself in the mirror. The best I could do with this short of notice is a white romper with a delicate lace overlay from my wardrobe. My hair is curled in long strawberry-blonde waves that fall down my back, and I pulled half of it up into a twist. The wedding might be far from genuine, but we’ll need proof that it happened. I don’t want to give away the fact that it’s a sham just by looking like crap. I at least need to make myself look decent. I need to look like a bride.

What a great love story this could be. Boy marries girl to save her. They fall hopelessly in love and live happily ever after. But I’ve known my entire life that fairy tales like that are a big, fat lie. Something created to make life suck a little less for all the sad souls.

I’m thankful that no one is home to question why I am semi-dressed up on a Thursday afternoon.

My hands feel cold, but I know it’s just the nerves taking over my body. My mind is traveling a million miles a second, and I can hardly form a real thought.

Am I really going to marry a guy I’ve slept with once and hardly know? Yep, I guess I am.

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