Thousand Yard Bride (18 page)

She was stunning in a tight gold gown. She had a half-empty champagne flute in one hand and a crystal clutch in the shape of a butterfly in the other. Dropping next to me, she leaned in close; her breath reeked of alcohol. “So, tell me, how long did it take you to get knocked up with Hunter’s kid? Day one? That’s your secret, right?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked as my eyes darted around, checking for any lurking media people. I didn't like where this was going.

“Oh
you
know,” Poppy continued, saccharine. “You got pregnant just so you could bag Hunter. He’d never be marrying someone like you otherwise. What did you do, poke a hole in the condom? Conveniently forget to take your birth control?”

I couldn't believe she had the nerve to accuse me of something like that, much less at my own wedding. "Back off."

"You still haven't asked him about the Bahamas, have you?"

Not wanting to give into Poppy’s insanity, I shoved my chair back and rose to my sore feet. I wanted to reach Hunter, but before I could, his father intercepted me.

“No frowning at your own wedding, Joanne,” he scolded. “That part comes later.” He seemed he was set on making me feel worse. I wasn't going to let him.

“It’s just nerves,” I said as brightly as possible, forcing a smile back on my face.

Like a snake, his arm constricted on my middle. He had us on the dance floor, whirling me without giving me a moment to stop him. In my ear, his hot breath burned. “It looks like you played your part well."

I wanted nothing more than to break free, but everyone was looking at us, probably thinking that we were having a sweet bonding moment. “Thank you.” I kept my cool as we kept dancing. “And thank you for the lovely day, Mr. Daniels. Doesn’t Hunter look so happy?”

“He’s happy to stay on the Hawks, Joanne,” he said matter-of-factly. I felt my heart deflate. "Don't go getting naive, Joanne. This spectacle is about Hunter's future. Nothing more."

He was right. This wedding wasn’t about me and Hunter, it was about Hunter’s career and the P.R. mess that this baby would have caused.

As much as I didn't want to, Mr. Daniels Senior and I continued dancing. I watched Poppy out of the corner of my eye as she made her way towards us. I wondered if she was planning to ‘expose’ my evil baby plot to Mr. Daniels Senior. If so, she’d have quite a rude awakening when he didn’t act shocked or upset.

Lanie tapped Hunter’s dad on the shoulder and flashed a big smile. “I just danced with your son, and now I must dance with the father of the groom. I'm a such a big fan of yours! That arm is something else,” Lanie gushed, lying through her teeth. “You don’t mind if I steal him away, do you, bride?” Lanie asked.

“He’s all yours,” I said sweetly.

Stepping away, I scanned the busy room. I needed to find Poppy. I was tired of letting her push me around, and if she was going to try and expose me and Hunter as fakers, I needed to cut that off before it got far.

Then I saw her.

Poppy was struggling with Hunter, trying to get her arms around him. It was clear he was fighting with her, working to get free while not hurting the drunk woman in the process.

Inhaling sharply, I approached them. Poppy spotted me, squealing out, “There you are, Jo! I was just telling Hunter here how
terrible
it would be for him if everyone found out the truth about you two.” She tightened her arms around his neck. “Nothing says classy press like an emergency wedding, but I’m sure you already know th—”

“Poppy,” Hunter said. “You’re out of line. This is Jo’s day. If you can’t be respectful—”

“Bullshit. This should be
my
day, Hunter,” Poppy interrupted, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. I couldn't tell if she had been practicing her fake crying or if she was actually upset. "Tell her about the Bahamas. Go on!"

A dagger began to slice through my arteries. "I don't care about that," I said.

Her wicked smile went bigger. "I'll tell you, then you will."

"Poppy, stop this. Your lies aren't going to wreck how I feel for her."

"It isn't a lie!"

"It is!" he growled. "You can't handle the fact that it was you who messed us up, can you? You thought I cheated on you—"

"Because you did!" she cried out.

Hunter glowered at her. "No. You misunderstood. You called me and heard what you wanted to hear. You never trusted me, that was why you always snooped in my stuff, too." She'd gone quiet, a silent bomb ready to blow up.

I knew Hunter had taken a trip to the Bahamas for some sponsor, I'd dug that up, but had that really been what had spiraled Poppy out of control and made her cheat on him? She thought she was retaliating?

She must have thought she'd get even . . . and then they'd get back together.
My blood ran cold—I felt terribly sad for her, even if she was out to ruin my life.

Poppy was giving me a dirty sneer. I was waiting for the song to end, so Hunter could get her off the dance floor, out of the spotlight. The last thing we needed was for someone to see us manhandling Poppy—it might give her claim about the accidental pregnancy credit.

The song just kept going, though, and Poppy wouldn't peel herself off of Hunter. “Just admit it, Hunter. Admit that this marriage is a sham and I’ll go away. I just need to hear the truth.”

Hunter looked around to see if anyone had overheard her. “The truth is, Poppy, I need to dance with my new bride." He pushed at her less gently, breaking free. Her stunned expression was worth all of her drunken trouble.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me close, kissing me. Poppy spoke loudly, stomping her foot like a spoiled kid. “The world will find out about you. One way or another!” She stormed off, throwing her clutch down as she went. It sat on the floor like a glittering piece of roadkill.

When the song ended, he leaned away, sighing. "I'm sorry. I don't know how she even got in here."

“It was my idea to invite her,” I admitted, feeling like an idiot. “I thought it would look good if she was here. Like you two had moved past everything. In fact, I’d hoped she
would
move past everything, maybe get some closure. Guess I was wrong. Don’t worry, I can handle it.”

Hunter looked over at Poppy, who was slumped in a chair getting more and more intoxicated. “We need to get her out of here before she blows up again. I know how she is when she’s drinking, and this isn’t going to go away."

I sighed. “What about Reese? Where is he? Maybe he can distract her."

“We can try it. He’s always got my back, so I’m sure he will." He spotted his friend, moving to meet him on the dance floor. I watched them chatting, and a minute later, Reese bent down to grab up the crystal clutch. Then, he swung over to Poppy all while
dripping
Irish charm.

Whatever he said to her as he handed her her clutch, it got her off the chair. They left the room, Reese throwing us a quick wink as they passed by.

Hunter returned, his golden eyes shining. “Reese is getting her some air. He'll take her home, too."

"That's great," I said, breathing easier. I saw just a little bit too much of Camille in Poppy, and it made me sympathize with her in spite of everything she'd done—or tried to do. "Can I ask . . . it's stupid, but . . ."

"The Bahamas?" Sighing, he looked again at the exit. "That fucking trip. All I did was get caught in the middle of fighting off a drunken waitress. I swear, I wasn't doing anything, but Poppy called me in the middle of it . . . she heard the girl's voice, the way she was being flirty and dirty . . . and that was it. Poppy thought I'd cheated."

My nod was slow, considerate. "Are you sorry that it happened that way?"

Hunter blinked at me, clarity crossing his face. "No. We weren't meant to be together and if it hadn't been the cheating with Benny, it would have been something else. Things happen for a reason," he said, taking my hands with a smile. "Right?"

I was gushing with a thousand pounds of hormones. My face hurt from grinning.

The master of ceremonies' voice boomed over the mic. “Can I have the lovely bride and her dashing groom over by the cake, please? It’s time for things to get even sweeter, ladies and gentlemen.”

* * *

C
laudette
, the wedding planner, sent us to a side room to wait for the crowd to flood out of the club and onto the covered walkway. It was strange to be shuffled around and hidden from people, but I liked these intimate moments the best.

Hunter squeezed my hand just before Claudette opened the door to signal for us to make our grand departure. Hunter linked his arm in mine and said, “Are you ready for this, Jo? Or should I say, Mrs. Hunter Daniels?”

“Ready as I'll ever be." Leaving was the easy part.

He held up his pinky. “Pinky swear?”

Just like the first time he'd done this, my insides clenched. He'd done it months ago to help me believe he'd never reveal the truth about our hook up. Again, all I could think about was how his fingers had been deep inside of me.

Shivering, I put my pinky finger around his just before he pulled me in for a kiss.

"Here we go," he said against my throat. I let him lead me, I could have been floating through the crowd as the rose petals rained down on us.

Just before I got into Hunter’s car, which was decked out in “Just Married” signs, streamers, and ribbons in the Hawks’ team colors, I saw something flash at the corner of my eye.

Poppy in her gold dress.

She smiled at me. A big, shiny smile that was all teeth.

I never knew someone could smile so widely while still bristling with such spite.

H
unter
and I had only been married for eight days when his first regular season game began. It was an away game in California, and I hadn’t been feeling well, so I decided to stay in New Haven and focus on work in between bouts of nausea.

The game was against the San Francisco Knights, a team that had been struggling lately as members dropped in and out. It would be an easy win for the Hawks.

While I was already missing him—we'd grown so used to each other’s presence—I had plenty to distract me. I was supposed to move over the weekend into Hunter’s penthouse, a task that would have left me drained even
if
I didn't do the heavy lifting.

Lanie had offered to help me. I was quick to accept. When I arrived at Hunter’s penthouse, she was already there directing the movers. “The box that says bedroom goes in the bedroom,” she said to someone, as if they couldn't read.

When the mover came my way, I winced, apologizing for my sister. He made a face, laughing openly. "Her? We've dealt with way worse, believe me."

It only took a few hours to move everything. I’d left my mismatched furniture and ancient appliances at my old place, there was no reason to bring those here. The only piece of furniture I insisted on bringing with me was my desk chair. I wasn't ready to part with it.

I’d spent way too much time in that chair writing press releases. It was what made the one particularly cramped corner in my apartment qualify as my “home office.” I planned to do the same in the corner of my new bedroom. I wasn't sure where that was in Hunter’s huge mansion of a condo, but figured he wouldn’t mind what I chose to do with my own space.

Lanie and I explored the penthouse and found the first spare bedroom. It was decorated like a hotel room, clean and modern and bland, with a bed that had probably never been slept in. I looked around, making sure the movers couldn't hear me. “I guess this is my new room?”

“It’s not too shabby,” Lanie said. “It’s almost as big as your entire apartment. Nice closet space, too. What’s that room down the hall though? A man cave or something?”

“I dunno. I’ve only ever been in the kitchen and Hunter’s bedroom."

She waved her hands in the air. "Oooh, his bedroom. Just brag about it." She giggled, running ahead to open the door to another room. “Whoa! Come here, Jo, you’ve gotta see this.”

I was expecting to find just another guest room.

Hunter had set up an office for me.

There was a huge desk with a picture window in front of it, and outside I could see blue skies, green trees, and the city of New Haven. It was way better than the parking lot view from my office at SportsFire. On the desk was a mug that read “Jo’s the Boss.” Next to the mug was a fancy color printer with a bow tied around it.

“He got you a mug and a printer?” Lanie said, wrinkling her nose. “How romantic.”

I was already cradling the machine. “Not just any printer! This is the top of the line. It’s a multifunction x-four thousand model with a fax, a copier, and a scanner included. It's
beautiful."

“Sis, are you seriously getting teary-eyed over a printer?”

“It’s the pregnancy hormones. Well, and the fact that this puppy can print fifty sheets a minute. Isn’t it great?”

Lanie looked at me like I was an alien. “You have a strange view of romance, but I'm happy if you're happy. Want me to help you with the closet, weirdo?” I nodded and followed Lanie back into my new bedroom.

We finished unpacking the rest of my stuff. It was so strange to look at my closet and see that my new fancy dresses took up as much space as my suits and button downs. Not only did I have a selection of formal gowns, but I also had sundresses and cocktail dresses.

When would I even have time to wear them all? Was I turning into someone else? My dresser was still filled with mostly jeans and ClimbTime gear, though, which made me feel more like myself. I made a mental note to talk to Victoria about donating my frilly frocks.

“What’s your bathroom look like?” Lanie asked, already opening the door to it. “Ohhh, nice! Marble,” she said. “Plenty of storage space too. What’s Hunter’s like?”

I called out to her from where I was testing the comfort level of the bed in my new room. “I don’t know, Lanie. Probably exactly like this one.”

“Let’s find out!”

“Lanie! That’s private.”

“No it’s not,” she argued. “He’s your husband now. You should find out if he’s an over the roll or under the roll kind of guy.”

“Ugh,” I said, before getting off the comfy bed to follow her.

Lanie stood inside Hunter’s huge steam shower. “I think you got the short end of the bathroom stick. I’ve never been in one of these before. I’m tempted to strip down and try it out right now.”

“Please, do not.” I inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of Hunter. “What’s that smell?"

Lanie handed me a bar of soap. “Is this it?”

Turning it in my hand, I touched the slippery green surface. “It
is
mint! Mystery solved! I always wondered how Hunter smelled so good.”

Lanie shrugged. “He’s got good taste in soap and showers. Honestly, I would marry this shower if I could." She turned it on, dodging the water spray.

“I bet you would,” I laughed, turning the water off and pulling Lanie from the fancy bathroom so she could help me finish unpacking my own room

* * *

A
fter Lanie left
, I went straight to work in my new office.

I’d given myself the morning off, so I wanted to catch up before the Hawks’ first game at six. As soon as I turned on my computer, alerts came in left and right. I had it set up so that I got a notification every time a news site or blog posted about Hunter, and now my inbox was completely full.

I settled in with a cup of tea and went through the items. A lot of them were hype about the new football season. Some outlets were still rehashing our wedding. Then I saw something that caught my eye; a story accompanied by a picture of Poppy and Reese on
BloggySporty
. The headline read, “Does This Heiress Have a Secret She’s Not Telling?”

My heart raced. There was no way that Poppy could know what Hunter and I had been up to the last few months. She could have all the suspicions she wanted, but at the end of the day they didn't mean anything without proof—of which she had none. It was her word against ours.

Still, I paused and took a deep breath before starting on the article. I read each word carefully, as if it was a puzzle I had to decode. To my relief, it was just about her and Reese potentially dating.

I knew they weren’t really together—Reese would never—but I still wanted to know what the reporter, someone named Alicia Aster, had to say about the unfounded gossip. I needed to make sure she hadn’t leaked this story ahead of a bigger expose. Gossip reporters had a tendency to do shady things like that.

I thought about how I could get my intel from Alicia without giving away anything and quickly came up with a plan. I would lure her in with a scoop about Reese, and convince her to give me information in exchange for an interview with him. I knew Reese would go with it. He would do anything to cover for Hunter.

Plus, he was away in California now, so I could schedule the meeting for an in-person interview in a few days without looking shifty. Once I was happy with my plan, I searched for the blog’s office number on their website. Dialing, I waited for the receptionist to pick up and connect me with Alicia’s office.

"Hello!" a woman chirped. "Who's calling please?"

While I was going through the usual niceties with the receptionist—I’d learned by now that assistants and receptionists were always excellent people to make allies with at any office—I managed to get Alicia’s direct number and add it to my contact list.

I was relieved when she picked up on the first ring. My sweet talk must have worked on the receptionist, because Alicia answered with, “How lucky am I to have Hunter Daniels’ P.R. rep calling me directly!”

“Hi, Alicia,” I said, putting a smile in my voice. “I just wanted to connect with you about your fantastic article on
BloggySporty
about Reese and Poppy. That was some quick work.”

“I know, right? Thanks for noticing,” she gushed. I let her bask in the glory of her journalism for a split second before getting to my point.

“Anyway, I wanted to check in and see what you’re working on publishing next. If you’re going to follow up with it? I mean, I’m sure the readers want to know what Poppy’s secret is, and this article really didn't say.”

“I
know
, right?” Alicia giggled on the other end of the line. “My editor told me to use that headline to get clicks. It’s supposed to make you think there’s something juicy, but the secret is just that she and Reese look like they’re dating. How spicy is that? Hunter’s ex and his best friend.” Then Alicia’s tone went somber. “Oh, sorry! I keep forgetting you’re his wife now!”

“I know, right?” I parroted back to her, and then we shared a laugh. I’d found that the best way to make friends with these kinds of reporters was to meet them on their level. And I certainly couldn’t fault her for wanting to climb the career ladder. I’d been young and hungry too, once. Hell, I still was. Though at the moment, I was just relieved that Poppy hadn’t said anything about Hunter and me to the media.

“What a Cinderella story you and Hunter have.” She sighed dreamily.

“Yep. Quite a story,” I said, squirming in my cheer.

“Now you’ll be Jo Daniels!” she gasped. “How crazy is that?” She rambled on, seeming to have forgotten who she was talking to on the other end of the line.

“Totally crazy. Anyway, if you need an exclusive with Reese, let me know. I’d love to help you out with this story.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Daniels. I’ll check with my editor and get back to you,” she said before asking for my number and then hanging up.

Feeling confident that I’d dodged a bullet in the form of Poppy going to the press with her accusations, I breathed easier. I caught up on the rest of the news items, many of which I’d actually arranged.

In P.R. there are always reporters who throw curveballs and gossip rags that will fabricate stories. But just because most people don't take the gossip rags seriously doesn't mean you don't have to monitor them. Sometime they will guess at things. Somethings they will just make it up.

And sometimes they get lucky, and the story that they made up ends up being true.

Then they look like the best reporting outfit, when really they’re just throwing things against the wall hoping to get clicks. Over the last few weeks, I’d seen a few of those sorts of stories. My favorite one was about how I'd been a virgin until Hunter, which was entirely false, though I guess if you asked my sister about it she’d probably concur.

After clearing my inbox, I looked at the clock and realized it was almost kickoff time. I made myself a bowl of popcorn and a plate of pickles and settled in on Hunter’s couch. Then I battled the remote and the cable box until I figured out how to turn on his huge TV.

It came on with a blast of surround sound. This was a serious entertainment system. The last commercial ended and two sportscasters appeared on the screen in front of the football field.

I looked at the sidelines and squealed like a schoolgirl when I saw Hunter in his uniform. I was really happy that no one, especially not Lanie, was around to watch me do that.

It was strange. I’d spent so much time with Hunter in person, but every time I saw him on TV, I couldn't help but be taken with him all over again. Not only did he handle himself well in interviews, but he even had a certain presence just standing there drinking a Croc-Cooler while talking to the Hawks' head coach.

Leaning closer and closer, I held my breath as the game went on. Hunter caught two touchdown passes, and on the second, I jumped up and cheered. The popcorn tipped over; I knelt, crawling on my aching knees as I picked up the mess. Being pregnant made everything so much harder.

The game was a stunning success for the Hawks. In the post-game show, a sexy blonde sports reporter interviewed Hunter, cooing, “That was a stellar performance. Tell me, how do you feel?”

Hunter looked at the camera dead on and said, “I’m just happy to make my new bride proud.”

My cheeks burned. Was he flirting with me on national television? I wasn't sure what to think of that. I hadn’t coached him to say that. I’d told him to give the team all the credit and to say something about making his old man proud.

Did he mean what he said?

In the background, I spotted a familiar face—one I'd rather have not seen.

Benny.

Tensing up, I sat back on the couch. Hunter didn't acknowledge the other man; they'd basically avoided each other since their altercation. I was sure that Benny just wanted to keep things peaceful between himself and the other player, but I wished I knew what was going on beneath the surface.

He really said he was just happy to make me proud. On television.
As I cleaned up my dishes and unconsciously rubbed my belly, I wished that Hunter was with me.