Legally in Love Boxed Set 1

by Jennifer Griffith

  “Do you see any other option?” Josh’s mouth made a grim, straight line.

  Morgan let it all tumble through her brain. At last she whispered, “No.”

  Josh took her hand. It sent more electricity through her than she would ever admit. “Then are you with me?”

  She nodded.

  In walked the county clerk. “Wedding day jitters, eh? I see it all the time.” She laughed. “I’m happy to tell you the judge has an opening for the next few minutes. Do you have friends or family waiting outside?”

  Family. Wow. Morgan always thought her family would be beside her when she did something as momentous as this. But then she remembered it wasn’t momentous. It was just a moment. A means to an end.

  “We’re being spontaneous.” Josh took Morgan’s hand again. “Gotta strike while the iron’s hot. Before she has a chance to change her mind.”

  If only the county clerk had any idea how literal that statement was.

  “Okay, young lovers. Follow me.” She led them past a labyrinth of cubicles to the judge’s chambers, where there was a large mahogany desk littered with papers and paper cone-cups from the water cooler. “He’s a bit of a neat freak. Can you tell?” She said this under her breath, just as the judge entered.

  Judge Byron came in. He was younger than Morgan expected, with messy curly hair and hipster glasses.

  “Hello, folks. You’d like to get married, eh?” He added a Canadian lilt to his eh at the question’s end. “Marlene, would you round up a couple of my clerks? I’ll use them as witnesses, since these two lovebirds came here to elope.”

  Elope. That’s what they were doing. It had always sounded like running away to Morgan, with the root word lope. Which didn’t that mean run? In a way, she was running away from her financial problems, she guessed.

  “We’re eloping,” Josh whispered. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  In a minute, the judge’s staff came in—two women. One had a bouquet of silk flowers she handed Morgan. The silk Gerbera daisies in it looked a little tired. Dusty.

  “Now, do you want the short version or the long version?”

  “Short,” Josh and Morgan said simultaneously. Then their eyes shot toward each other.

  “Oh, anxious, eh?” The judge chuckled. “Gotcha. I have an extremely short one. You want that?” They did.

  Judge Byron proceeded. Extremely short it was. “Do you, Joshua John Hyatt agree to marry Morgan Elise Clark?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you Morgan Elise Clark agree to marry Joshua John Hyatt?”

  This was the moment of truth. It was all happening so fast. And she hadn’t even had time to listen to the implications of the vow she was making. It was so short. Could it possibly be real? Could it be of any legal force? Her ears roared with the blood racing through her veins, but not so loud that she couldn’t hear herself say, “Yes.”

  “Then by the laws of the State of Oregon and my authority as a judge in Clatsop County, I declare you married. Congratulations.”

  Morgan should have felt something. Instead, a cocoon of wool encased her, and she went emotionally numb, her mind a blank. She stared at Judge Byron, who looked back and forth between her and Josh, her husband, expectantly, but she couldn’t move.

  Finally, the judge spoke. “Well, what are you waiting for, eh? Kiss the bride.” He jostled Josh’s shoulder, and it bumped Morgan back to life a little.

  Kiss? She hadn’t even thought about the inevitable kiss. Her mouth went dry. It had been a long, long time since she’d been in a position to be kissed. Blame the Conversation Coma if she must, but she’d had a kissing dry spell of many months. Or more.

  Apparently Josh had the same misgivings—and he was probably thinking of that girlfriend he’d sent off to wherever, of what she would think of his kissing—let alone marrying—some random girl he met. He spluttered an answer to the judge. “Oh, uh. Right. We’ll save it. I’m sure you people get a little weary of wedding PDA.”

  PDA. Public Display of Affection. Relief washed through Morgan at not having to be subjected to the humiliation of having her first kiss in, oh, however long, be in court.

  But the judge was too jolly for that. “No way. I love weddings. It’s a new family unit bonding together. New life. New joy. Don’t hesitate on our accounts. We love it.”

  Morgan braced herself. The pressure was pretty strong, and she realized they’d have to cave to it, if they wanted to sell their story to anyone. She turned to face him. “It’s okay, Josh. They’re rooting for our success.”

  Josh had a worried, slightly sick look on his face, and she could see he was thinking of someone else. Which, of course, made this whole experience all the worse. But she knew this was part of the deal, and he had to pay the price, too.

  The room went into slow motion. Josh cupped Morgan’s jaw with his hand. Her heart sped at his touch—it had been so long since a guy had looked at her this way. And there was definitely a look coming at her from Josh Hyatt. It looked to be part guilt, part resignation, part desire. She’d have to focus on the desire part, or else she couldn’t even get through this one-second-long kiss.

  She tilted her chin upward, and slightly parted her lips. His eyes closed, and she closed hers. And then his mouth brushed her lips, pressing them softly, like a mere caress.

  A thousand needles of tingling pierced the wool cocoon that had encased her, and her every nerve sprang to life.

  Kissing her fake husband should not feel this good. It should feel as fake as this marriage. But instead it felt as real as anything she’d ever experienced.

  Dang it.

  He pulled away, and their eyes met. He blinked a couple of times, and his eyes looked just a little afraid—yet another thing to add to the guilt and desire already visible there.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  Morgan nodded. “I should be thanking you.”

  The clerks clapped. The judge pressed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Congratulations.”

  Morgan took Josh’s hand. “That’s it, I guess.”

  One of the court staff said just loud enough for Morgan to hear, “That kiss was serious stuff.” The other one said back, “Electric. Now after work I won’t need to watch my soaps I recorded.”

  Oh, brother. If they only knew how hollow the whole thing was, they’d probably throw rotten fruit at Josh and Morgan.

  As she and Josh weaved their way out of the cubicle maze, the county clerk saw them pass. “Oh, look-a there. You two really did it. Wonderful. So, where are you going to honeymoon?”

  Morgan gave her a mind-your-own-business giggle, but outside the doors of the county building, she answered the question for Josh to hear. “Right here in Starry Point. Filling out paperwork.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Well, uh.” Morgan fidgeted in her seat beside him. “I’ve got work in a little while. Gotta change into my uniform.” She seemed really awkward—and it pretty much mirrored how Josh squirmed inside. They weren’t going to go out to eat to celebrate. They weren’t going to even tap two Coke bottles together as a victory party for moving themselves a giant step closer to their goals. They were just going to say, thanks, bye, see ya.

  Weird. This whole thing was weird. But necessary. He kept telling himself that. It was a means to an end.

  Josh dropped Morgan off at her apartment and went back to his place, where he exhaled for the first time all afternoon.

  Talk about conflicting feelings. Man, that girl had a kiss on her. It was a good thing that was the only time they’d be required to lock lips or else he could actually be in danger of losing focus on Brielle—which was stupid. The whole point of all this was to get himself in a place where he and Brielle could really be together.

  Wasn’t it?

  Dang. That blonde could potentially throw off his groove. He’d better minimize contact, just to be safe. Maybe he should move. Then he wouldn’t be seeing her in her swimsuit walking around t
he complex at any given moment. Because that? That made him want to maximize contact.

  His mouth went a little dry.

  He went to grab a Coke from the fridge. It hissed a satisfying release when he twisted the cap. Ah, yes. The cool tang of the liquid hit the back of his throat, and his body knew the caffeine hit was coming. It responded with a yesssss, and the tension flowed from the muscles in his neck and shoulders.

  All right. Now he could think. And frankly, he’d done it. He’d taken a giant step toward getting what he wanted. Best of all, now Bronco couldn’t stop him. Josh could pay tuition; he was getting that foreign policy degree and making his life happen—despite any and all naysayers, including his wacko dad.

  He set down his Coke bottle, satisfied.

  Well, no time like the present. Josh did an online search for the grant forms to fill out for married students. Married. Weird, again. There were a lot of pages. Morgan wasn’t lying when she said they’d spend their honeymoon filling out paperwork.

  And worst, it wasn’t even fillable forms. It all had to be printed out. Government—so slow to get with the times. They probably wanted everyone to jump through as many hoops as possible to qualify for the funding. Oh, well. He was always pretty good at jumping. He did hurdles and the high jump back in his track and field days in high school, and during his first go-round at Clarendon he’d been on their varsity team.

  That seemed like a long time ago.

  He hit print for the forms and waited for his printer to spit them out. Oh, no. Not again. This stupid piece of junk never worked on the first try. He fiddled with the cords, looked at the settings on the screen, and sent it again.

  Whoosh, whir. There it went. Finally. At least this time he didn’t have to either kick it or swear at it to get it to work. That was a good thing. And a rare one.

  When it kept printing and printing though, Josh smirked. Man, there were a lot of pages. He pulled the stack-ola of them off the feed and started thumbing through the sheets. Oh, great. It printed two sets. Fabulous.

  Just as he started to drop them in the trash, something stopped him. Morgan, his wife, would need these, too. He might as well be the nice guy and take them over to her. Not that he wanted to see her again, necessarily, even though she wasn’t bad to look at. The blue eyes really did have something to them, and even though Brielle had auburn hair, Josh had always been a sucker for a blonde. Going over there with these would just be the right thing to do—for the environment. Otherwise, waste of trees. And the disinherited heir of Hyatt Holdings, former logging conglomerate, should know better than anyone else about the importance of trees.

  “Hi,” he said when she opened her door. He held out the half-ream of printed paper. “You were right. There’s enough to keep us busy filling out paperwork for at least the duration of the normal couple’s honeymoon.”

  After he said it, some kind of heat rushed to his face. He didn’t know why. And suddenly, looking at the way she stared up at him with those deep blues, he had a blast of shyness he’d never really felt before. What the heck?

  “Thanks. My printer is down, so I was going to have to print stuff out at the library. This helps.” Her voice was really soft—a lot calmer than earlier, when she was telling him about all the struggles she was having. “Oh, and tell your brother thanks. My mother already made an appointment, and he’s taking care of Nixie this afternoon for her.” She pressed the pile of papers to her chest. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  He stood looking at her for a moment, not sure what to say, but almost like his eyes had been glued to hers, he couldn’t look away from them. This girl was too amazing. And he was married to her.

  Which was why he was going to have to move. Far away from Estrella Court.

  “I don’t know what all is on the forms, but text me if you have questions.” He gave her his number and got hers—he’d probably have questions, too—attaching it to a picture he snapped of her, with a lock of her blonde hair falling across her right eye.

  So much for putting more distance between himself and this distracting woman. He now had her number in his phone. Morgan Clark Hyatt.

  If only Brielle hadn’t put the kibosh on his making calls to her. He could really use a dose of normality right now to set his brain back in its rightful rut. Not that his relationship with Brielle was like being in a rut. Oh, whatever. Morgan was still looking up at him, hugging the paperwork.

  “Well, I’ll see you, I guess.” She bit her lower lip, which reminded him of how it felt when he’d kissed it—like he was running satin across his mouth. Satin that tasted like raspberries.

  Brielle used Mentholatum. Completely different.

  “Right.” Josh took another second. “Thanks again.” Then he couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and kissed her on her forehead. Yeah, her hair smelled like honeysuckle from his mom’s garden a long time ago. He’d been right. “Uh. See you.”

  He walked away, tripping a little on the stray vine of a weed that had grown across the sidewalk. He didn’t look back, but he flattered himself that Morgan was watching him walk away. Even if he’d stumbled, she probably thought he was charming. And a good kisser. And had a nice rear view.

  Right.

  And that he’d just used her. For money. And to get another girl.

  He was a jerk.

  ∞∞∞

  Morgan shut the door behind her and leaned her back against it, glad beyond words that Tory wasn’t home right now to cross examine her about the disaster she’d just made of her life. She pounded the back of her head three times against the door. “Lame, lame, lame.”

  Josh Hyatt was even cute when his flip-flops tripped him on the sidewalk. And when he blushed, she could have just died of how much charm came off him, like a faint-inducing pheromone.

  As much as that you-may-kiss-the-bride moment had been a mind-blowing pleasure at the time, the memory of it was going to haunt her, mix up all her emotions forever. Every time she saw him she’d be remembering how it sent all her systems past the red line. That was going to be awkward. All manner of awkward.

  Worse, why did he have to just now kiss her head? What was that? Fatherly? Or friendly? It felt to her like a weird mix of condescension and affection. Misplaced affection—just like he’d misplaced where he should put his mouth. Lips, dude. Lips meet lips. Not forehead.

  Still, she felt the phantom memory of that kiss on her forehead almost as much as the one that he’d placed on her lips earlier. Josh Hyatt not only had great teeth and a great smile, the kiss from them was exceptional, too. In which case, she was in quite a bit of trouble—because she’d just married him.

  And she could probably never kiss him again.

  The door behind her jostled, and she scrambled out of the way, not sure what to do with the stack of papers in her hands.

  “Hey,” Tory said as she came in, bearing an armload of green velvet and gold lamé fabric. “What’cha been up to?”

  Uh—great. How should Morgan answer? I just got married. How was your day?

  “Looks like a lot of papers. Already doing homework for some overzealous prof?” Tory came over and peeked at the papers. “Or did you just borrow that one jerk’s book and go get it photocopied? Serves him right.”

  “Naw. Just a grant application.”

  “What? You’re still dealing with financial aid? I thought you said you had that handled.”

  “I did. I mean, I do. Now.” Morgan’s heart beat a frantic pace. She was going to have to tell someone first. It might as well be Tory. Eventually, it was going to have to be public knowledge—and in order for the whole thing to work, she was going to have to admit it—to everyone. Including Tory, who was dropping her yards of fabric on the sofa.

  “You sewing?” She chickened out. “Is it for Hamlet?”

  “Hamlet it is. He’s not bad, for an actor. Kinda seems to have his head on straight.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  “I know, right?” Tory threw the fabric on
the coffee table beside the sewing machine, which had taken up residence in front of the TV. “And he doesn’t even do weird things like refuse to bathe for months at a time, so I’m counting that in the win column.”

  “Frequent, regular bathing is always a win.” Morgan realized she had no idea whether her husband was a frequent bather. He might be anti-bath. Oh, what had she done?

  “You look kind of sick. Is everything all right? I mean, if you want, I can help you with the paperwork for the grant. I like putting numbers and letters in little individual boxes. It’s a weird thing of mine.” She got up and took the paperwork out of Morgan’s grip.

  Morgan held them tightly for a second, then she allowed them to go. She watched Tory’s face as Tory started digesting the gist of the papers’ requirements.

  “Married student grant application?” She flipped through the tall stack. “Looks like you accidentally printed the wrong stuff. Wait, our printer is down. Did you pick up someone else’s papers at the library copy center? You should take them back.”

  Morgan just shook her head. Her stomach’s temperature rose about ten degrees.

  “Uh, Morg. It’s not like you can just lie and say you’re married when you’re not. They don’t run the grants that way. I mean, I’m not a student, and I haven’t ever done one of these applications, but I’m not exactly dumb. And neither are you. So, go get the right papers.”

  “I did get the right papers, weeks ago, and they turned me down.”

  “What?” Tory cocked her head. “I thought you just had that scholarship problem. Are you saying they shut you down on grant money, too?”

  Morgan nodded.

  “Oh, man. That stinks. Can you get a loan?” Tory was all into this conversation now. In a way it felt good to unburden herself of the truth, but Morgan hated letting her sister know the depth of the problems she’d been facing—especially because it affected Tory so dramatically.

  “No loans except unsecured. Because of Frogs in the Sand’s income, I don’t qualify.”

  “That book! I can’t express how much I hate that book. The fire of a thousand suns doesn’t even describe the magnitude of my hatred for that book.” Tory got her theater friends’ air going. “We should never have let Mom do that.”