Legally in Love Boxed Set 1

by Jennifer Griffith

  “Well, there’s that.” Morgan didn’t look proud of her mom’s literary efforts. Josh didn’t know about the book. If her mom had a book that was well-known enough to have been read by Seagram, what was Morgan doing working at that Salad Shooter place? Now was not a good time to ask about it, though. That was the kind of thing a real-life husband would already know about.

  After taking a bite of her lunch, Morgan went on. “I wish she’d never written it.”

  “A lot of people share that opinion. But why do you?”

  Morgan pressed her lips together. “Oh, it just derailed things for my sister and me.”

  “Her fame?” Seagram looked concerned. “Because I can see how having a mom famous for Frogs in the Sand might adversely affect a young lady.”

  What! Morgan’s mother wrote that awful book? Oh, that poor girl! It was like the “Achy Breaky Heart” of poetry books. Everyone had heard about it so much they were sick to death of it. Frog fatigue, it had come to be known. To begin with it hadn’t been so bad, maybe, but—well, yeah. It was. Never mind. He tried to make his face a mask of complacency, but Morgan looked at him, and she’d seen the surprise in his eyes. She looked weary of the whole thing.

  “If I’m going to be honest, it was the fortune that tripped us up, not the fame.”

  Seagram looked interested. “It seems like it sold well. Exceptionally well, for a poetry book. In fact, I’d love a signed copy, if you could get me one.”

  Morgan looked like she was having a hard time swallowing some bile. But she answered civilly. Good for her. “Yeah. Look, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I shouldn’t. It’s personal.”

  “Go ahead. Think of me as a kindly uncle. I’ll keep it all in confidence.”

  Morgan looked worried a second, and then she plunged in. “She made so much money last year, and only last year, that she was able to finally pay off my dad’s debts that were transferred to her after his death. Which was great, don’t get me wrong. It cut the rope of a huge millstone around her neck. But then, after that, she was penniless again.”

  “Penniless before, penniless after. I don’t see the big derailment.” He led them to a sofa. They’d finished their lunch. He sat on the coffee table in front of them, the wooden legs creaking a little under his weight.

  “Right? It shouldn’t have been that way. That’s what I told the financial aid people a thousand times, trying to get them to approve my applications, but they only see raw numbers, not people, not situations. My mother paid too much in taxes. End of argument.”

  No wonder! Josh chewed on this for a second—until he realized just how dangerously close Morgan’s story was to outing them—and the fact they’d married hastily. If the wedding had been long-planned, then Morgan wouldn’t have needed to include her mother’s earnings on her taxes.

  This was not good.

  Luckily, it didn’t seem like Mr. Seagram was digesting all those details and connecting those dots. Josh prayed he never would put that stuff together. Seagram nodded gravely. “So your mother can’t help you out in any way.”

  “She can’t.”

  “And your father won’t.” Seagram turned to Josh, and Josh knew he’d been vetted somehow. Maybe it was on the interview application Morgan’s sister had turned in. Whatever the source, Seagram knew who Josh was, and that Bronco was not helping him financially.

  “Exactly.”

  Seagram took a deep sigh. “I know Bronco Hyatt. Have known him since he married your mother, heaven rest her soul.”

  Wow. Seagram knew his mother—and that there was no question she was in heaven. “Then you know what he can be like.” Bitterness may have crept into Josh’s tone.

  “I do.”

  This whole interview had gotten a lot more personal than Josh had expected. Morgan had bared her heart and problems to this guy about things Josh had never bothered to ask—things he should have asked, even as a friend, let alone as a husband, and Seagram had bombarded Josh with memories, sending him tripping through old feelings he’d kept buried deep.

  Seagram put his hands on his knees and leaned forward, considering. Josh shot Morgan a look. She was staring at her hands. They were pretty, delicate hands, small enough to be wearing the ruby ring of his mother’s. They should not be washing dishes at that McMushrooms place. Josh had to get this scholarship for them—for her sake. She deserved it, even if he didn’t.

  “Morgan’s been working full-time this past six months. She’s seen her grades take a hit. I admire her for not giving up.” Josh admired her, yes, and he admired her legs for a second as well, stemming down from her light blue skirt. Then he refocused.

  “Where are you working, Morgan?”

  “I’m a waitress at a vegan diner.”

  “Veg-Out?” Seagram frowned. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s the only one in town. I’m too much of a carnivore myself, but my valet eats there regularly.”

  Seagram had a valet. Who had a valet these days? It sounded so old-timey. Even Bronco didn’t have a valet, but Josh bet he would if he heard Seagram or some other self-made businessman had one.

  “Josh, would you go pour me a glass of water and bring it to me?” Seagram waved him off. “I need to talk to Morgan.”

  Josh obeyed. But if Seagram wanted to speak privately, he’d have to send Josh all the way down to the beach because the guy’s voice carried everywhere in the house. Josh didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but there wasn’t any way around it.

  “Morgan, I knew Josh’s mom before she married that knucklehead. I would have given anything if she’d loved me instead, but I guess the heart wants what the heart wants. Eventually I married my Nellie, though. Do you know why Josh’s dad cut him off?”

  There was a pause. Then Seagram went on.

  “If Martha knew what Bronco Hyatt was doing to her son, she’d be rolling over in her grave so often it’d be like she was on a rotisserie. Thanks for leveling with me. I’m going to do something for Joshua for Martha’s sake. Don’t tell him I said so, of course. I don’t want him to think anything he receives isn’t for his own merit.” There was another pause, but then Seagram finished, “I have to say, your openness is refreshing.”

  Pangs of guilt at the word openness almost made Josh drop the water glass he was holding. It bobbled in his hand, sloshing a bit out onto the marble floor, but he recovered. “Here, sir. You did want ice, right?”

  Seagram took it. “Thanks, Josh. Tell your father hello.”

  “I probably won’t see him.”

  “That’s what I thought. Thanks for coming by, kids. It’s been a pleasure.” Seagram shook their hands. “Winners will be notified by mail.”

  Out in the Explorer, Josh exhaled for the first time in an hour. “Glad that’s over. What did you think?” He was trying to decide whether to tell her how close she had come to screwing things up.

  Morgan chewed her nail for a minute. “I thought he seemed lonesome.”

  Lonesome! Leave it to a woman to interpret it that way. “I meant about how the interview went. I hope we came across as needy but not needy enough to get the scholarship. I’d hate to be fake for a guy that nice.” And as Josh said the words, he realized he meant them. Seagram was a stand-up guy who almost reminded Josh of an extra-loud Santa Claus. He didn’t need fakers trying to take his kindness. Josh let his ire toward Morgan’s willingness to blab so much personal information about him die down. It didn’t really matter, since Seagram seemed to know most of it before meeting them anyway. Besides, worst case scenario, if Seagram did put two and two together about their hasty marriage, he just wouldn’t give them the scholarship. End of story. Morgan would keep working at the diner until Josh could figure out some other way to get her out of there.

  ∞∞∞

  The next day, right after work, Josh checked his mail. Still nothing from Brielle; instead, there, in a long green envelope was a letter with Seagram’s return address.

  “Morgan?” Josh broke into a jog toward her apartment. �
��Morgan!” He pounded on her door.

  She came and answered it. “Josh. You look upset. Is everything all right?” She let him in, and sent him to the couch, where he plopped down in fear. In a second she’d reappeared with a cold bottle of Coke in her hand. The bubbles and fumes off the top of its rim calmed him a bit.

  “It’s from Seagram.” Did his nerves show as much as they rattled him?

  Morgan wobbled a little, and he pulled her down beside him. She smelled like flowers again. She must not have gone to work yet today. Good. He wished she’d never have to go. But then, he wished this envelope didn’t say what he thought it probably said.

  “Do we have to open it?” Morgan’s blue eyes met his. “I don’t want either answer.”

  “We have to. We have to accept or reject it if it’s an offer.”

  “I’m so mad at Tory I could scratch her. She put us in this situation.”

  Where was that sister? This was the first time Josh had been in Morgan’s apartment with her alone, and he’d only met the sister once or twice in passing. Huh, it smelled like cherry candles and, well, Morgan in here. Every time he smelled her, his stomach did a flop. He was going to have to start wearing nose plugs around her.

  That’d be easy to explain.

  Why are you wearing nose plugs?

  Because every time I smell you I forget I have a girlfriend.

  Morgan lifted the green envelope from his hand. “I’m opening it.”

  Her finger slid under the lip, and she extracted the paper. Josh leaned across, closer to her waves of honeysuckle blonde hair to see it, too. But he only needed to see the first word: Congratulations.

  His stomach did more than a flop. It did one of the moves those gymnasts did in the Olympics—round-off back handspring—but it didn’t stick the landing.

  This was not good.

  Morgan let the paper flutter to her lap. “How can we tell him no?”

  “We can’t.”

  “We have to.”

  “If we do, it will be even more suspicious when we annul next spring.” Josh picked up the letter and read further. Maybe the scholarship wasn’t as drastic as he feared. Maybe it was only five or ten thousand. “Maybe we can take it now, and then we can repay him later.”

  “A hundred thousand bucks?” Morgan looked stricken. “That’s more than my mother’s house cost.”

  The back of Josh’s throat collapsed. It was more than Josh’s mother’s house had cost—by twice. Her original house, anyway. Before Hyatt Place. He scanned the letter. Worst fears realized. The disbursement was for the full hundred thou’. Payable by check or direct deposit. In a lump sum. To be delivered at five p.m. on Monday.

  Josh closed his eyes. This was so bad.

  “How are we going to have all those cameras come?”

  Cameras? “What cameras?”

  “Didn’t you read the whole thing?” She shoved the letter at him, pointing out a paragraph near the bottom of the letter. The fine print of all these letters was killing him.

  I’m expanding this scholarship’s reach this year. Because the two of you are such an attractive couple, I’m making a big to-do out of the presentation of the scholarship. Frankly, I’d like more young couples to get married while they’re still on campus. You two are the flagship couple, in my eyes.

  For that reason, I’ll be over on Monday to deliver the check to you at your apartment.

  At that time, I’ll have another surprise for you.

  Another surprise? Oh, geez. What next?

  Morgan didn’t look like she’d like the surprise, either. “Film crew?” Her lips had gone white.

  “Yeah. Seagram’s a media mogul, among other things. He made a lot of his money in TV reality shows.”

  Morgan looked like she was going to throw up. He didn’t blame her. He might, too, later, when this horror sank in. “Hey, Morgan. Look on the bright side. You can quit your job now, eh?”

  “Look on the not-so-bright side, Josh. We have to move in together and fake a record of our courtship and completely invent a married couple’s apartment. Before Monday.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Just when I thought things couldn’t be worse.” Morgan dropped her head onto her arms, her nose hitting the sand. It was too cold to be down here beside the ocean in her swimsuit, but Tory had insisted. Morgan had looked too stressed. She needed the beach, her sister had said, but even the waves weren’t helping right now.

  Why, oh, why had she been such a blabberhead when she was at Mr. Seagram’s place? Maybe being around Josh had suddenly primed the pump of her talkative nature. Then again, she’d always been able to talk to men way out of her age category. And something about Sigmund Seagram had just put her at ease. Josh had called him Santa Claus with brown hair.

  But that was no excuse. In fact, she’d been so loose-lipped she could have sunk her and Josh’s ship—because what was she thinking telling him about her mother’s tax status screwing up her financial aid? Josh would probably call that a trail of breadcrumbs for someone to figure out their game.

  She had to be more careful.

  She and Josh had to make the apartment visit as convincing as possible—barring actually moving in with him.

  Cohabitation was definitely not in her premarital game plan.

  Even if she was sort of married.

  Tory listed a few things they’d have to do. “You’ll need dishes, a frame for your marriage certificate…”

  “People don’t do that. That’s overkill.”

  “Okay, maybe so. But you’ll have to have some kind of framed item. Do you even know what his apartment looks like? Does he have decoration? It has to have a woman’s touch.”

  The fact she’d never been inside the apartment of the man she was married to hit her like a truck. She was such a phony right now. She sent an apologetic silent prayer to the heavens and to Sigmund Seagram.

  “What am I going to do? I don’t even have a picture of us besides the selfie I took where we both look pretty nasty.”

  “I can take your pictures. We’ll get them developed at the drugstore, the one hour place. They even do eight-by-tens, and larger prints. The pictures are doable. We can shoot them here on the beach. You’ll look gorgeous. Call him up and get him down here.”

  Morgan wasn’t ready to deal with Josh yet. She was too mad at him for not putting the kibosh on this whole ruse. He was older, and he should be more responsible than she was, be the smarter head.

  Poor Mr. Seagram.

  “What about everything else? Where are we even going to stage this fake apartment?”

  “His place, of course. We can just relocate your clothes and things over there, a few toiletries, and you’re good. Mr. Seagram isn’t going to do a big exploratory surgery of the whole apartment.”

  “Who knows? He’s an eccentric millionaire. I have a creeping feeling we’ll be scrutinized.”

  “It’s the price you pay for being a gorgeous couple. Millionaires automatically like you.”

  “But that’s it! We’re not a couple! We’re neighbors.”

  “You’re legally wed.”

  “We’re not really married, though. Not in his heart. He’s still going to the mailbox every single day looking for letters from that girl he loves who’s out of the country.”

  “Why don’t they just Skype?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they do.” Morgan didn’t want to think about Josh’s girlfriend. It was getting harder and harder not to think about Josh as only hers as time went by. Especially every time she snagged the prongs of the ruby solitaire on something and remembered his kiss. It squeezed her heart to think he wasn’t hers and he could make her feel like that.

  It wasn’t fair.

  “Hey, you promised not to think of her as competition. Besides, it’s like I told you a hundred times, Morgan, you’re the one who’s here. You’re the one who is wearing his mother’s ring. Think about that. It doesn’t matter who or where she is. Possession is…”


  “I know, I know. Nine-tenths of the law.” But Brielle possessed Josh’s heart. And that was all that really mattered in this situation. She was such a fool for letting her feelings actually get sucked into this situation.

  If he just wasn’t so danged full of swagger. Sometimes when he walked into the room, smelling like that spicy cologne, she thought her hormones were probably glowing neon. And she was married to him, which made it twenty times tougher to keep from throwing herself at him, especially after those kisses.

  And now, heaven help her, she was going to have to move in with him?

  Wait, no. No, she wasn’t. All she had to do was make it look like she’d moved in with him.

  Tory turned over and pulled the floppy hat’s brim over her face. “How did Carl take it when you turned in your skates?”

  “Not well. He promised me a raise.”

  “Really? How much?”

  “Ten cents an hour.”

  “Tempting.”

  “Yeah.” Morgan probably shouldn’t have burned that bridge already, but Josh had insisted, and she found herself irresistibly compelled to follow his advice. It was like she was under his spell. Plus, she had a serious test for her senior project on Monday morning, and Carl had scheduled her to work two sixteen-hour shifts this weekend. There was no other choice. But when Carl had flipped his lid and warned her to never come back begging him for a job again, she’d promised she wouldn’t.

  “When does Josh get off work? We should start redecorating over there tonight.” Tory sat up and reached in her beach tote. “I have my camera with me. Are you going to want wide-angle or narrow-angle lens for the pictures?”

  “Narrow-angle. Close-ups.” Josh’s voice sounded as he crossed the sand toward them. “And wearing just what you are.”

  Morgan sat bolt upright. What was he doing here? “I’m in my swimsuit.”

  “All the better.” He raised his eyebrow. He was in his trunks. And shirtless. Morgan had to avert her eyes so she wouldn’t gawk. He apparently had time to work out.

  “But nobody takes engagement photos in their swimsuits.” The thought!