Page 46 of Ride By Your Side

“Okay, now this is something youreallycan’t talk about or spread around,” I say, lifting my chin as I look up at the two of them.

“We won’t. Promise,” Maeve says, and Gemma nods in agreement.

“Well, you know how Blair’s older brother, Miles, was the one who drove the getaway car?” I ask, glancing between the two women.

“The really hot and grumpy mechanic? Oh, we know him,” Gemma says, wiggling her brows.

I let out another breath before I sit up and lean in toward them, lowering my voice. “Well, I may have drunkenly married him in Vegas.”

Both of their mouths drop open in shock, while Ford, who already knows, leans back, slightly shaking his head.

“Holy shit!” Gemma exclaims, a bit too loudly for my liking, as a few teachers glance in our direction. Thankfully, from what I can see, nobody is really paying all that much attention. “Sorry,” she apologizes, crinkling her nose. “But, wow, I definitely didn’t expect you to say that.”

“Yep,” I say, drawing out the ‘p’ and nodding my head slowly.

“Well, so much for not having to deal with getting a divorce,” Maeve offers in solidarity, sending me a regretful frown as she runs a comforting hand along my back.

“Yeah, well, this one I’m at least not too worried about. We both realized it was a stupid mistake, and Miles is already working on getting the whole thing taken care of, so at least I have that going for me.”

“You know, as far as random husbands go, I’d say you hit the jackpot. Miles Bennett is a fucking babe,” Gemma chimes in appreciatively.

For the first time, I get why those comments used to drive Blair up the wall. Sure, I may have been guilty of saying something similar once or twice, but at least I always followed it up with, ‘Too bad he’s such an asshole,’ or something equally disparaging.

I get it. Miles is an incredibly good-looking man, and I can understand why people would notice. But honestly, I don’t want to hear anyone else say it. I know it’s ridiculous, since he’s notactuallymine, but still… Sure, he’s my husband—for now—but like I’ve already told them, it won’t be for long. Yet for some annoying reason, the thought of him being with someone else bothers me more than it should.

Hell, I could even see him being into someone like Gemma, looks-wise at least. She’s a couple of years younger than me, which means she’s a good five to six years younger than Miles,and he did say his type was a brunette. Gemma is exactly that, with her long brown locks.

Not only is Gemma the drama teacher here, but she also teaches dance and has the long, lean body of a dancer to match. Hell, if I were into women like that, I know I’d be all over her. She’s gorgeous and has a fun personality to match. Then again, she’s a bit loud and dramatic, so maybe I can at least be at ease over the fact that those traits would likely disqualify her from being his true match.

“He is pretty good-looking,” I agree, releasing a loud breath of air.

“Well, at least you have that going for you,” Maeve tries to offer. Unfortunately, as nice as it is to know that someone as smoking hot as him would marry me, that excitement can only go so far.

“But I really mean it, guys. I can’t have this get out. I promised Miles we would keep this under wraps,” I explain as they both nod their heads in understanding.

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep your secret safe,” Maeve promises.

“Thanks, ladies,” I say, reaching down for a blueberry and popping it into my mouth. “So, besides me running away, what else happened around here while I was gone?” I ask, changing the subject. While I can understand the excitement and the craziness of my news, I really need a break from this, especially since my goal was to think about Miles as little as possible.

Then again, I’m pretty sure I’m failing miserably, because as I continue to pop berries into my mouth and listen to them rattle on about everything I’ve missed, all my mind can think about is my husband, and how fucking sexy he looked last night in those gray sweatpants of his.

28

Miles

Walkingthroughthedoor,my eyes go straight to the brunette who has tucked herself in on my couch. She looks right at home, snuggled under a large, fluffy pink blanket, her legs slipped beneath her, with Bubba nestled in close.

She glances over her shoulder, her smile a soft curve that steals the air straight from my lungs. “Do you always get home this late, or are you purposely avoiding me?” she asks, trying to keep her voice light and teasing, yet it’s obvious there’s a hint of worry there too.

“I promise, I wasn’t avoiding you,” I say, setting my keys on the black entry table. “I’m just a little behind, is all. Just doing what I can to catch up.”

She sends an apologetic smile my way. “Sorry. I’m guessing that’s my fault.”

I dismiss her worries with a wave and move further into the apartment, leaning behind the couch to give my dog a few affectionate pets and scratches behind his ear. A sweet smell ofvanilla and strawberries wafts from Veronica, as I do my best to ignore it. “It’s really no problem. I haven’t taken a break in what feels like forever, and honestly? Every single one of my employees stopped to tell me how glad they were that I finally took some time for myself. Apparently, this was long overdue.”

“You’re sure it’s okay? I’m starting to worry that I’ve gone and derailed your entire life,” she says with a frown, tilting her head toward mine. “I mean, I stole you away, tricked you into marrying me, moved into your house, and to top it off, you’re also behind on your work.”

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. By tomorrow, I’ll be all caught up,” I insist, and just as I look up, a gruesome, bloody scene catches my eye on the television screen. “What the hell are you watching?” I ask, my face contorting in disgust.

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