Page 38 of Cherished Lands
"Jesus Christ, Elliot."
"I know."
Chase waggled his eyebrows. "Well, I always knew you wanted to fuck her."
"It's not—" I shot him a hard look. "It's more than that."
"Oh yeah?" Chase's grin turned wolfish. "So how is she in bed? She seems like she'd be?—"
"Don't." My warning came out harsher than anticipated, accompanied by a glare that had Chase instantly backing off. I didn't like the idea of my brother thinkinganythingabout Tessa in bed.
Across the room, she was perched on the arm of Sarah's chair, both of them bent over her hand as the ring caught the light. Even now, slightly buzzed and definitely annoyed with me, she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
"She said, and I quote, 'You're lucky you're pretty, Everton,' then put the wet ring on her finger and kissed me like shemeant it." A stupid grin split across my face. I couldn't help it. It was like my facial muscles had been hijacked.
Andy shook his head, smiling. "You know, I saw it. Never thought it'd actually happen, but I saw it."
Tessa laughed at something Sarah said, then caught my eye across the room. Fake engagement or not, that sly smile of hers still made my pulse jump.
"Yeah," I muttered. "Me neither."
Chapter Fourteen
TESSA
My dress was white.
My hair was styled.
My makeup was flawless.
My hands were shaking.
Why are my hands shaking?
This was a fake wedding, a business transaction in a government building. Absolutely no reason to be nervous.
Emma and I stood in the lobby of the county courthouse while Jay and Elliot parked the truck. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting unflattering shadows that made the institutional beige walls look even more depressing, and the marble floor was scuffed and worn. A tired-looking ficus plant drooped in the corner, gathering dust. It was December eighteenth, and northern Michigan was frigid—the kind of bone-deep cold that made you question why anyone lived this far north.
We'd waited the required three days to get our marriage license from the county clerk, watching the days tick by withgrowing anxiety. Fortunately, Dad being so out of touch with the community worked in our favor. Despite Elliot's disastrous proposal in front of half the town at Callaghan's, no injunction had been filed, and we were nearly in the clear. The thought of my father's reaction when he found out made my spine prickle with sweat.
The heavy glass doors swung open, letting in a blast of icy air. My future husband and his father walked into the courthouse in matching black suits with pressed white shirts underneath. My breath caught. The last time I saw Elliot in something other than his trademark faded jeans was at high school prom. Back then, he'd looked like an overgrown boy playing dress-up. But thirty-one-year-old Elliot filled out his tailored suit in ways eighteen-year-old Elliot never could—broad shoulders stretching the fabric, thick arms barely contained by the jacket sleeves, his usual work boots replaced by polished dress shoes.
And Jay? Jay Everton was a silver fox. I envied the woman who would get to marry Elliot for real. If he was anything like his father, he would age like a fine wine. The realization that my time in his life would have faded to a distant memory by the time that happened brought an unexpected pang to my chest.
The judge was an elderly woman with steel-gray hair pulled into a neat bun. At first glance, she looked intimidating, but the eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses were kind. She probably performed dozens of weddings every month, but something in her expression softened when she saw Emma dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. The courthouse's underlying smell of old paper and furniture polish would forever be ingrained in my mind as the smell of my wedding day.
"Marriage," the judge began, her voice warm and practiced, "is a sacred union..."
Right.This 'sacred union' was a clever legal loophole to protect my investment and screw over my father. Nothing more.
But Elliot's callused hands were warm when he took mine. Strong. Capable. Those same hands that worked the orchard, that had grabbed my hips in the barn that day, that had left me aching for more...
Focus, Tessa.
"Do you, Elliot Michael Everton..."
He was standing so close I could smell his cologne. Not the expensive crap my father wore, but something woodsy and clean that made me think of crisp winter nights and pine trees.
