True for You (4 page)

But
I’m not going to let that, let
her
,
distract me. “Why are you wearing
that
ring?” That’s my ring. It was supposed to be Violet’s
ring. Only our plans were interrupted. Our entire future had been
interrupted.

She
frowns. “Because you gave it to me during the ceremony. You’re
wearing one, too.”

I
check my left hand. Sure enough, there’s a ring, simply
designed and the color of silver. “What ceremony?”

She
leans over me, dark curls brushing my face as does the rest of her
body. Too bad the sheet’s between us.

“Here.”
She hands me a piece of paper and my cell phone.

I
glance up at the paper, read it, and nearly lose it. Then I look at
the picture on the phone.

It’s
a damn good thing I’m lying down.

The
man I had remembered from last night? He’s holding a
Just
Married
sign made out of fishing lures and wood.

“Oh
shit.” This time I gulp the word. Irrefutable proof of my
stupidity is probably making its way through every gossip site
imaginable.

Bliss’
pretty green eyes search my face, her cheeks heating. “We
haven’t consummated it, yet. So technically, we could get it
annulled.”

“Consummated?”
Right now, I’m too damn hungover, and it’s too damn early
for me to even
think
about what that word means. But I do wonder how in the hell did
anyone let me, apparently drunk as shit, enter into any kind of
contract?

“I’m
still a virgin.”

“And?”

“That
means our marriage isn’t official in the eyes of the law. Yet.”

There’s
that yet word again. I’m beginning to think Bliss Davenport is
the Queen of Yet. “How do you know?”

“The
guy that married us told me and you, too, right before we left. He
also said he’d file the paperwork on our behalf today, so we
don’t have anything to worry about.”

How
nice of him
.
I frown. “Let me get this straight. We got married, but didn’t
consummate it, so it’s not legal. And the paperwork hasn’t
been filed.” I lift a brow. “
Yet
.”

“Yes.”

“So
you decided to go to bed
with
me, without a stitch of clothes on.”

She
blinks. “You said I could sleep in here, while you crashed on
the couch. You decided to come in here anyway, about three hours
ago.”

“There
are five other bedrooms in this house, Bliss.”

“You
were hard to get along with last night.” She runs a hand
through her curls. “It was easier to agree to sleep in here
than argue with you.”

“Apparently,
I wasn’t that hard,” I mutter.

Cheeks
heating, she glances around the room, and then down at the sheets
before peering at me through her lashes. Flirtation is nowhere in her
posture or gaze. “So what do you want to do—make me
not
a virgin or get an annulment?”

Her
whole let’s-get-this-over-with attitude deflates my ego and my
dick. “Can I have more than ten minutes to think about it?”
I growl.

She
swallows, visibly swallows, and an uneasy feeling passes over me.
“You made a promise to me, but I guess holding you to something
that you don’t remember isn’t fair.”

Of
course, she won’t argue with me, not like everyone else. Not
like anyone else. Tossing the paper to one side, I grind the heel of
my hand into my forehead. “I need a dri—”

“There’s
a glass of whiskey on the table beside you,” she says softly.
“A little hair of the dog.”

I
glance beside me. Sure enough, there’s a tumbler of
amber-colored liquor in it. “Mind-reader?” God, I sound
like an ass, as usual.

Bliss
raises her head and gazes out the windows. How far she can see, I
have no idea. But she’s squinting a little, so it can’t
be very far without her glasses. “No. You poured it this
morning, before you crawled in bed with me. I’m only reminding
you of it.”

Grabbing
the glass, I take a large gulp, relishing the feel of it burning down
my throat. “Such a good little wife.”

Her
entire body goes rigid. “Drink some more. You’re much
nicer when you’re drunk.”

“Feisty
Bliss,” I say, and then take another drink. Already my headache
is easing, and I don’t feel quite so useless. “Is that
how you tricked me into marrying you?”

She
lets out a snort, instead of getting defensive like I expected. “It
was your idea, not mine.”

I
set the glass down and sit up, edging closer to the woman beside me.
I brush a thick fall of hair over her shoulder. Freckles dot the
landscape of her skin, a surprise I hadn’t expected.

I
brush my mouth over her shoulder, my tongue tracing a line from
golden brown circle to golden brown circle. She’s sweet and
soft against my lips.

She
shivers, a small gasp leaving her full lips.

“Tell
me more about this idea of mine.” I nip at her shoulder and her
arms move, sending the sheet lower.

“Stop,”
she gasps. “I can’t think when you do that.”

I
nuzzle her neck, breathing in the lemon and flowery scent that always
accompanies her. “How about now?”

“You
wanted…” she begins and I take her earlobe between my
teeth, slowly biting down. “
Oh
God
.
Y-you wanted to piss off Everett.”

Just
like that, I’m no longer interested in Bliss, in encouraging
her to talk… in anything. The sweet taste of her skin has
turned to ash in my mouth.

My phone rings, and
I get out of bed to search for it. I’m bare-assed as I walk
around the room.

A quick glance over
my shoulder lets me know Bliss is staring, her mouth a little open in
shock. I grab a clean pair of jeans from the top drawer of the
dresser beside the door and slide them on, leaving the top button
undone. No need to get fully dressed when I intend to shower in a
few.

My
phone stops ringing, and I run a hand through my hair. “Where
the hell is my—”

“Table.
My side,” Bliss says. I want to be annoyed with her for knowing
exactly what I need.

“It’s
called a nightstand,” I correct, striding to it. The phone
rings again, my dad’s name appearing. “Anything else I
should know before I answer this?”

She
shakes her head, my ring on her finger sparkling. “No.”

“Don’t
suppose we signed a pre-nup?” Though it won’t matter if
we get an annulment, because then it will be like the marriage never
happened.

“I
wanted to, you said no, because it would piss off your dad even
more.”

That
sounds like something I would say. Still, she didn’t have to
agree so easily. I flatten my mouth. Answering the phone, I give her
a look before covering the speaker with a hand. “When I’m
done with this call, we’re going to have a nice long talk. So
don’t go anywhere.”

“I
can’t go anywhere.”

“Jackson
Cash Morgan. Answer me,” Everett yells into the phone, but I
ignore him.

“Why?”
Can’t
leave the money behind, sweetheart?
I want to ask, but I don’t, because a part of me wants to
believe Bliss wants me for me, not my money or fame. Another reason
why I shouldn’t have given up on Violet. At least I knew she
didn’t need me for any of those reasons.

“You
took my clothes out of my bag and burned them in the fire pit beside
the pool.”

I
really did that? What the hell was wrong with me last night? “And
you let me?”

“In
case you haven’t noticed, you’re twice my size,”
she says, and I feel worse. No, not worse, I feel like shit. “Don’t
worry; you said you’d buy me more.”

So,
shit feeling gone now. I’ve married a gold digger. Everett’s
going to hand me my ass over this.

Chapter Three

Bliss

The
only thing worse than waking up
nude
with a guy that can’t remember the night before, is waking up
married
to him and finding out he’s more of a jerk than you previously
thought.

I
glance down at the wedding ring on my finger. It’s beautiful,
white gold or platinum, with diamonds all over it. It’s the
first piece of jewelry I’ve ever owned.

Although,
how long it will stay mine remains to be seen.

“No,
I did not plan this,” Jackson growls into his cell phone as I
slip on my glasses. He comes into focus, and I blink. I’m not
sure who exactly had my glasses fixed, but a big part of me wants to
believe that the man standing by the bed had something to do with it.

“It
just happened, Everett. That’s how,” he snaps.

Never
in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I’d end up here, just
outside of Charleston, South Carolina, with country music’s
golden bad boy, Jaxon Hunter.

In private, though,
I think of him as just Jackson.

My
heart skips a couple of beats when his dark blue gaze rakes over me.
Strawberry blond hair sticking up all over the place and a morning
beard that makes his face all adorably scruffy.

Dark blue jeans hang
on his narrow hips as he paces. Tight abs, with an
,
oh holy crap
,
eight pack in the making leaves my tongue glued to the roof of my
mouth. Then there are the tattoos. Don’t even get me started on
the tattoos, but I want to get started on them.

He
tilts his head and smiles, as if he knows exactly what I’m
thinking, sending my heart into overdrive.

“We’re
staying married,” he says into the phone, his blue-eyed gaze
pinning me to the bed. “If you have a problem with
that—honestly, I don’t give a damn.”

As
if he could ever be
just
Jackson
.

Blushing,
I glance away. I’m not stupid though, despite agreeing to marry
him while I was perfectly sober and he was perfectly drunk, to think
that what will happen next will be all hearts and flowers.

But
I was desperate. I’m still desperate.

I’m
tired of living on the street, tired of homeless shelters and
crashing in bus stops when I have no other options. Since I was let
go from the tour, I have no place to go. No place to live, unless I
go back home to Forrestville.

A
shudder racks my body as I think about what waits for me at home. No,
not my home, not anymore.

My
Uncle Brian drags me by the hair, across the floor. I wrap my hands
around his wrists, trying to ease the stinging in my scalp. My
glasses are barely hanging on my face. “You were supposed to
stay for a week, maybe longer if you’d been any good.”

Pain
slices though my heart from where he’d beat me when I’d
turned up this morning. “Please, don’t send me back,”
I beg. I’d rather stay here and take my “uncle’s”
abuse than go back.

Aunt
Helen stares at me with vacant eyes as she opens the door. “You’re
sixteen. Old enough to earn your keep.”

“
You
told me I was hired to
clean
his house,” I scream.

“
Don’t
you back talk your aunt.” Uncle Brian grabs my shoulder and
throws me outside. I land in the dirt, air rushing from my body in a
painful whoosh.

The
frame of my glasses is painfully tight against my now-raw skin.
Lifting my head, I blink and can barely see a thing. The gravel I
landed on has scratched the crap out of them.

“
I’ll
have to give that bastard his money back, you worthless little bitch.
Knowing him, he’ll want his pound of flesh, too, and he ain’t
getting it from Helen or me.”

I
spit out a mouthful of grass and taste blood. Fear courses through
me, and my stomach turns. I can’t go back there. I just can’t.
I’d rather slit my wrists than go back.

“
Here’s
what’s going to happen next: I’m going inside to finish
my breakfast, and then make a phone call. In the meantime, I expect
you to get your ass back inside and shower, put on the dress Helen
bought you, and be ready to go back.”

“
I’m
never going back,” I say through gritted teeth.

Brian’s
face grows dark and, before I can move, he’s outside with me,
fingers digging painfully into my skin. “If I have to hog-tie
you, I will, Bliss. You ain’t got anywhere to go, no family to
speak of, and no place to live. Do you really think anyone cares
about you? You’re nothing.”

Call
us Uncle and Aunt they’d said the first day I’d been
dropped off. We’re going to take care of you like you’re
one of our own. LIARS. “I hate you.”

His
hand draws back and, before I can brace myself for what’s
coming, he slaps me across the face. My glasses go flying.

A
hand lands on my shoulder, and I scream.

“What
the hell?”

“Please,”
I whimper, screwing my eyes shut. I hate how helpless I sound, how
helpless I feel in this moment.

“Bliss,
hey, hey… it’s me—it’s me. It’s
Jackson,” he says, his voice still rough from sleep and his
hangover. “Are you okay?”