Page 38 of Just My Type
Cece
An accidental Vegas marriage is a wonderful idea!
I can’t help the borderline hysterical laugh that bubbles out of me because I have literally no idea what is happening right now.
“What’s so funny?” My head shoots up, and I meet Noah’s deep blue eyes.
“Funny?” I ask, my voice sharp. I drop my phone on thenightstand and walk to the bed so we’re almost chest to chest. When Noah’s eyes flash, I suck in a breath and force myself to focus on the horror show that is my current existence and not on the fact that he looks incredible in the morning. “Nothing is funny. There is not one single thing that is funny about the fact that in a couple hours we have to go have lunch with your brothers, my sisters, and my very good friend and all of Jordan’s friends and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary happened when, in fact, all evidence points to us being fucking married.Married, Noah. Do you understand how serious this is?”
Noah reaches out and lays a hand on my cheek. “It’s going to be okay, I swear. This kind of thing happens all the time.”
When he taps my cheek three times, I barely resist the urge to lean into the comfort of his hand. “Not to me.”
“I mean, not to me either, but that’s what this deal between us was, right? Doing things you haven’t done before. Showing you the way you deserve to be treated.”
“The way I deserve to be treated is to get black out drunk and married in Vegas?”
Noah chuckles. “I mean, not exactly, but look on the bright side. I get to show you how I would treat you if we actually were married. That will be great material for your books.”
“Uh, I hate to break it to you, but we are actually married. For the moment, you’re my fucking husband. Jesus Christ.”
I swear to god, Noah’s face literally lights up. “Hearing you say that is so hot. Call me your husband again.”
I tip my head back, swallowing back the scream that wants to escape. “No fucking way. We’re getting this annulled. Immediately.”
“Okay, look,” Noah says, tipping my face back down so he’s looking at me. “We’re here for a couple more days to celebrate Jordan and Jo, so let’s do that. When we get back to Boston, we’ll work everything out. I promise. Whatever we do, we’re in this together, okay?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Damn him and hislogic. Him telling me we’re in this together shouldn’t make me feel so calm, but for some reason, it does.
“Fine. But we’re not telling anyone about this.”
Noah shrugs. “Okay.”
I grab his chin, forcing him to look at me. “I’m serious. Tell no one. This is Jordan and Jo’s weekend and getting drunk married is embarrassing as fuck. Keep this to yourself.”
He grins. “You want me to be your dirty little secret, Han?”
“Ugh,” I groan. “I don’t want you to be my dirty little anything. Just don’t tell anyone. We’ll take care of this when we get back to Boston, and it’ll be like it never happened at all.”
Noah does a little mock bow that I absolutely should not find charming. “Your wish is my command. Now, you need a latte and a muffin, stat. Come on, wife, let’s go order breakfast.”
I suck in a breath, my calm immediately fleeing the building. “I hate you,” I seethe.
“You don’t, Gorgeous. You really, really don’t.”
Shit. I really don’t. And I have no clue what to do about that.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HANNAH
“What the fuck, Noah! Take it off,” I hiss as the elevator doors slide closed, and I stab the button for the lobby.
Noah smirks at me and runs a hand over my ponytail, sweeping his gaze down my body and back up again. “You want to get naked in the elevator, Han? I’m not usually one for exhibitionism, but for my wife, I can absolutely make an exception.”
I swear, I can actually feel the steam come out of my ears. “Your ring, asshole. Take off the damn ring. And don’t call me your wife! Jesus.”
He looks down at the ring and then back up at me, hesitation written all over his face, and what the fuck is that all about? “I like wearing it.”
