Don't Kiss the Bride: An Age Gap, Marriage of Convenience Romance

by Carian Cole

  Closing my eyes, I let go of everything, cling to him, and let myself get lost in us.

  Chapter 29

  Jude

  “I can’t believe we’re back here. These homeowners are a pain in the damn ass,” Kyle says as we walk up the driveway of the house next to the high school.

  “At least they pay on time. That’s all that matters to me. It’s a two-week job. In and out.”

  I was on the fence about coming back here when the homeowner called me about wanting a one-car detached garage built. Not just because they were difficult to deal with, but because I wasn’t sure I wanted to be working so close to Skylar now that we’re legally married and living together. I didn’t trust myself to not constantly be looking over at the parking lot, or the school, hoping to see her and catch her smiling at me.

  There’s not much I look forward to, but her smile is definitely a highlight of my day.

  Three weeks ago, I accepted the job because I had a break in my schedule while waiting on materials for a different project. At the time I was unaware how much would change between me and Skylar.

  I had no fucking idea that I’d start to have real feelings for her, or that I’d end up in her bed, kissing and touching her while she was half-naked. Or that I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about her and wanting to be with her.

  None of that was part of my plan.

  Now, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

  “I guess the little hottie lost her wheels,” Kyle says.

  “Huh?” I reply absently.

  “That chick you took to the ER.” He nods toward the school parking lot. “Now she’s driving a mom car.”

  Thankfully, Kyle doesn’t know that Skylar’s mom car is actually my Subaru. Nor does he know that she’s the one I married.

  “She’s still hot as fuck, though,” he rambles on, staring at her. “I’ll bet she’s a lightweight. Get one beer in her, and she’ll be drunk off her tight little ass, bouncing on my dick like a fucking pogo stick.”

  My blood boils like lava.

  I give his shoulder a hard shove. “What the fuck, man?” I say.

  He stumbles back and almost falls over his tools. “What’s your problem?”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Saying sick shit like that. She’s fucking eighteen years old.”

  And she’s my wife.

  Laughing, he shifts his gaze back to Skylar walking across the parking lot. “That’s even better.”

  I glare at him. “No, Kyle. It isn’t.”

  “You lose your dick somewhere, Lucky? She’s a random hot chick, not your fucking sister.”

  When he moves to walk away, I grab the front of his shirt and slam him up against the back of the house. I get a sick satisfaction as the back of his skull bounces off the siding. “Don’t you ever talk about my sister,” I seethe.

  His eyes widen, and he grabs on to my arm, trying to loosen my grip. “Dude, calm down. I didn’t mean your sister. I’m just talking shit.”

  “Just keep your fucking mouth shut.” I ram my fist into his chest once more before letting him go. “Get back to work.”

  “Whatever,” he mumbles as he walks away, straightening his sweatshirt.

  I light up a smoke and turn back toward the school. Skylar’s walking with Megan, hefting her book bag onto her shoulder.

  A slow smile spreads across my face. I think the book bag weighs more than she does. Every day she brings all of her textbooks home. Even if she doesn’t have a test, she studies every night.

  She’s the most unique, beautiful, smart, and adorable woman I’ve ever met in my life. It enrages me that sick assholes like Kyle look at her like she’s some kind of fuck toy.

  At noon, I take a lunch break and drive downtown to the jewelers to pick up my aunt’s diamond ring. She’s been calling me every day asking when she’ll have it back. While I wait for the manager to ring me up, I check out the glass cases filled with necklaces and bracelets. Everything is blinding and sparkling.

  Speaking of sparkles…

  I can see Skylar opening a pretty red velvet box on Christmas morning, squeaking with surprise, and smiling the biggest smile. Probably while wearing footie pajamas with freakin’ red-nosed reindeers on them. Smiling at that mental image, I peer through the glass case at a heart-shaped necklace that would—

  Ugh. I can’t.

  I bolt out of the store with Aunt Suzy’s ring and nothing else.

  Buying Skylar jewelry would send the wrong message. We’re not together. She’s barely said a damn word to me since that night in her bed, and she’s been holing up in her room every night with the door closed. In a way it’s a relief. We got caught in a weak moment and weren’t thinking. Us getting involved would lead to nothing but a mess.

  When I get back to the job site, the homeowner is waiting for me, stalking around her backyard wearing workout gear.

  “What color will the siding be?” she asks, nodding at the framed-out garage.

  “The same color as the house, just like we talked about,” I say, making sure I’ve plastered on my customer is always right smile.

  “I don’t know…” Mrs. Thompson says, studying the house, then the garage. “Maybe it should be a different color. Like a complimentary color. Maybe gray. Or light blue. Even dark blue. Or dark gray.”

  Here we go.

  “It can be any color you want it to be, but you have to let me know by the end of the week so I can order it. I’ll bring some color charts tomorrow.”

  She shakes her head and quirks her mouth to the side. “I’m just not sure. What color do you think it should be?”

  “I’m colorblind,” I lie. “So…”

  “Oh. What a shame. Well, let me ask my neighbor what she thinks. She’s an interior designer, so she knows all about these things.”

  “That sounds great.”

  She tucks her long, black hair behind her ear. “We love the work you did on the house. The new rooms are beautiful. Everyone says so when they visit.”

  This time I give her a genuine smile. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  She stares at me for a few moments. “You have really nice hair. Do you use a hair mask?”

  I let out a laugh. I don’t even know what a hair mask is. “That’d be a no.”

  “It’s so shiny, I just want to touch it,” she says. I pray she doesn’t try to pet me. “It’s getting chilly out here. Are you cold?” She crosses her arms in front of her and shivers dramatically. “Do you want to come inside for a coffee, maybe?” Her brows rise suggestively.

  Is a coffee offer the same as a Netflix and chill?

  “Uh,” I stammer awkwardly. I’ll let my balls freeze off before I accept an offer like that. “I just had lunch and I gotta get back to work. Thanks, though.”

  Smiling, she nods and looks behind me at my four guys. I wonder if she’s going to ask one of them next. “Okay, well, I’ll be home all afternoon if you change your mind. I’ll leave the back door unlocked.”

  Whoa.

  I say nothing and head back to the work area. Was she just trying to pick me up in her own backyard on a Friday afternoon? I’ve met her husband and kids. And her dog, for fuck’s sake. They seemed like the perfect family, and they spent over two hundred grand on this house to make it their forever dream home.

  Unfuckingreal.

  When four o’clock rolls around, we clean up for the day and I send the guys home. My plan is to get home early, shower, and head over to my aunt’s to surprise her with her ring. I don’t know if Skylar’s working today, but I’ll text her and ask her if she wants to come with me. Maybe it’ll get her out of this weird slump she’s been in all week.

  On my way home, I’m stopped at a traffic light when, to my right, I see Skylar pumping gas into the car at the station on the corner. A man is standing close, leaning into her, with his arm on the top of the car. She’s laughing at something he said. It takes me a few seconds to realize its Kyle.

  Mother. Fuck
er.

  As soon as the light changes, I peel into the gas station lot, park my truck off to the side, and get out, slamming my door behind me. I watch as Skylar finishes filling her tank and tries to move past Kyle, who grabs her waist and pulls her back.

  “What the hell’s going on?” I growl as I approach them.

  Skylar looks up with surprise and relief. “Jude—”

  “You followin’ me?” Kyle asks, grinning. “Or her? I beat you to it, man. Just asking our little friend here if she wants to grab a bite to eat.”

  “Take your hand off her.”

  He scoffs. “Dude, don’t be a cock blocker.”

  Skylar attempts to move away, but he grabs her arm. “C’mon, honey. Don’t worry about him. We’ll have a good time.”

  She wrenches her arm away. “If you touch me again, I’ll cut your balls off.”

  Kyle’s eyes rove over her like a dog eyeing a juicy steak. They travel over her denim skirt, black leggings, and fuzzy boots. He licks his lips when his gaze lands on her Woodstock shirt tied in a knot at the front, revealing a tiny glimpse of her belly beneath the faded denim jacket thrown over it.

  My old denim jacket that she must’ve foraged from my closet.

  “C’mon, sweetheart, you look like you love being touched,” he says, and my vision goes blood red. Without warning, I slam my fist into his face.

  “Fuck!” His head whips to the side. He stumbles, then lunges forward, slamming me into the gas pump behind me.

  “Oh my God!” Skylar shrieks. “Stop it!”

  Regaining my balance, I grab him and knee him hard in the gut. He lets out a groan, clutches his stomach, and falls to the ground. “Fuckin’ asshole,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Stay the hell away from her,” I warn, standing over him. We’ve been beating the shit out of each other since we were kids, but this will be the last time. He crossed a line I’ll never let him come back from.

  “Fuck you, Lucky.” He spits out a mouthful of blood, and Skylar recoils. “Why you gettin’ all bent over a piece of ass?”

  “She’s my wife,” I say, my voice low. “And you’re fucking fired. I don’t want shit like you on my crew.”

  Skylar touches my arm. “Jude, you don’t have to—”

  I pull my arm out of her grasp. “We’ll talk about this at home.”

  Kyle grabs the side of the Subaru and pulls himself up. Blood trickles from his nose.

  “She’s the one you married? What the fuck! You married a fucking kid? You’re out of your damn mind,” he says, wiping his hand across his face. “And you can shove your job up your ass.”

  “Hey, Skylar, maybe you’ll get a spanking when you get home,” a female voice says. I turn away from Kyle stumbling toward his car to see a small group of laughing teens hanging out at the gas station doors.

  Fuck.

  Skylar stares at me, her face ashen with shock and anger.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she demands through gritted teeth.

  “He was touching you.”

  Her blue eyes narrow. “So what?”

  My blood boils with jealousy—a feeling I’ve never battled with before. “What do you mean so what?” I shove my hand through my hair and step closer to her, lowering my voice. “What—did you want him to? Were you actually gonna go with him?”

  “Are you insane?”

  I shrug. “I guess I’m gettin’ there,” I say sarcastically.

  “I can take care of myself,” she says, her voice shaking. “I don’t need you going all fucking Hulk on people like an animal.”

  “My dad’s a divorce lawyer, in case you need one, Skylar,” one of the other girls yells across the lot. “Just sayin’.”

  Oh, shit.

  Skylar throws the group a threatening glance, then turns back to me. The shimmer of tears and disappointment in her eyes pulverizes my heart. “Just great.”

  Shaking her head, she jumps into the car without looking back at me, and speeds away.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 30

  Jude

  My mood is shot to hell. All I wanted to do was bring Skylar with me to go see my aunt and uncle and have a fun night. But instead, I’m pissed off, hungry, and confused.

  I haven’t randomly blown up on someone in a long time. But seeing Kyle’s slimy hands on Skylar pushed me right over the edge. He’s a douchebag.

  His degrading sexual comments and his blatant flirting with Skylar made me sick. She’s sweet and attractive, but she’s only eighteen years old. Guys our age shouldn’t be trying to pick up chicks still in high school. It’s sick.

  But aren’t I worse?

  I’ve kissed her. Touched her.

  My dick is rock hard just thinking about the night we stopped holding back and let things go further.

  It should’ve felt wrong, but it didn’t. When we’re together, she’s not eighteen, and I’m not thirty-four. We’re just two people who get along great, make each other laugh, take care of each other, and have insane chemistry. It’s not about sex—I can get that anywhere. It’s a magnetic pull to get closer. Emotionally. Physically. Every time I’m with her I get this feeling of indescribable contentment that I can’t even wrap my head around.

  I don’t know how all this snuck up on me.

  I’ve never felt like this with other women. There’s always been a disconnect with them—a wall that blocked any kind of real intimacy or happiness. And I was totally fine with that. In fact, I preferred it. It made things easy.

  I wish that wall would sprout up between me and Skylar. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with all this torment. Because even though age is just a number and all that bullshit, I can’t just blow off the fact that she’s eighteen. She’s still in high school.

  Too young to be tangling in my world of love ’em and leave ’em.

  Now I know how the dog feels when I don’t come home on time. I’ve been pacing the floor, staring out the front window, listening for the front door to open.

  Skylar hasn’t come home. She never stays out after eight, and now the clock is creeping toward midnight.

  I don’t want to be that guy, but here I am, being that guy.

  Earlier, she peeled out of the gas station in anger, and now I’m worried something happened to her.

  Or who knows—maybe she decided to take Kyle up on his offer.

  Unlikely, but still possible.

  Gus meows in Skylar’s bedroom until I fill her dish, and it makes me wonder if Skylar had dinner tonight.

  Finally, I give in and send her a text:

  Me: Hey you. Where are you?

  Skylar: Been hangin’ at Hampton Beach with friends.

  A selfie of her and Megan comes through that they must have taken earlier, sitting on the beach together with the sunset blazing orange and pink in the background.

  Me: It’s after midnight and it’s a school night. Come home.

  Did I really just type that? Someone kill me now please.

  Skylar: WTF. You’re not my father, Jude. Go to bed.

  Me: Last time I checked I was your husband. I want your ass home in an hour or I’m gonna come get you.

  I’m not gonna play the stare-at-the-door-all-night game with Cassie.

  Skylar: Chill out. I’ll be home soon.

  Soon turns out to be two a.m.

  From upstairs, I hear the front door opening and closing. Then, her feet thumping on the stairs. I’m just climbing out of my bed and pulling on my sweats to go check on her when she shows up in my doorway—all legs in tiny cutoff denim shorts.

  “What’s wrong with you today?” she demands.

  “Why don’t we start by you telling me what’s been wrong with you?”

  Her face pulls into a frown. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  “Bullshit,” I say, taking a few steps closer to her. “Something’s been bothering you. You’ve barely said a word to me since the night of your surgery.”

  The same night I had my lips all over her,
feasting on her perfect body, falling harder and harder for her.

  Focus, Jude.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she says flippantly. “I guess because I woke up the next morning with about a hundred notifications because that bitch Lisa Fucking Rottworth was in Dr. Katz’s waiting room and heard you call yourself my spouse, and then she proceeded to tell the entire damn school.” She reaches up and tugs the rubber band out of her ponytail, and her long hair falls around her shoulders. I remember how soft and silky it felt in my hands that night, and I wish I could run my fingers through it right now. “I guess I could’ve told you about it that morning, but you were gone before I woke up.”

  Old habits die hard. We fell asleep after I fingered and licked her into multiple orgasms, and I snuck out of her bed at five a.m. “Skylar, I—”

  “It’s been a really shitty week,” she says angrily. “Everyone’s been talking about me, and laughing at me, and posting dumb memes all over social media. Then when I finally think I’ve got it handled, you throw a tantrum at the gas station in front of half the school.”

  “I didn’t throw a tantrum.”

  Her angry tone morphs to sarcasm. “Um, yeah ya did.”

  My defenses go up. “That asshole was touching you. You should hear the shit he was saying about you.”

  “Who cares? He’s just a dick. And anyway, he’s your friend.”

  I shake my head. “Nah. That guy’s not my friend. Not anymore.”

  “You didn’t have to fire him, Jude. I think breaking his nose was enough.”

  “Fuck that. I should’ve snapped his neck. I don’t want a scumbag like that working for me.”

  “And what’s this?” She waves her cell phone in the air between us. “Get your ass home? What the hell, Jude? I can stay out as late as I want, with whoever I want, whenever I want. You can’t tell me what to do. I’m an adult.”