Accidentally Married on Purpose: A Love and Games Novel

by Rachel Harris

  “It’s not like I can turn it off without explaining why,” she said with a sigh. “And honestly, I want to see it. I do. It’s just…” Sherry threw her head back and released a heavy breath. “This will be the first time I’ve seen him since that night. I mean, it’s through a screen. And it’s not even live…they taped the show hours ago. But pre-recorded, live-to-tape is as close to the real thing as I’ve got.” Swallowing past a lump of fear, she nibbled her lip and then gave voice to her true fear. “What if I can’t handle it?”

  “Aw, sweetie.” Angelle promptly wrapped her in a hug and squeezed her close. “You are the strongest person I know. You can handle anything, you hear me? You’re amazing, and tough, and kickass.” She leaned back and looked her in the eye. “Don’t you forget it.”

  Sherry laughed humorlessly. “Gotta say, not feeling that kickass tonight.” She dragged her fingertips beneath her eyes, wiping the black residue on her apron as she scanned the gathered crowd. When her gaze landed on Will Trahan, Mr. Boring himself, seated at the bar, she froze.

  His soft gaze was on hers, and he tipped his beer in her direction. His smile was nice, kind, sweet—and dull as dishwater.

  Had she really convinced herself a life with no sparks, no excitement, could ever make her happy?

  She hung her head and admitted softly to the ground, “I miss him, Ang.”

  “Of course you do.” Sherry lifted her gaze to her friend’s understanding smile. “You’re in love with him.” At her shocked open mouth, Angie lifted a shoulder. “People say I have no poker face. Sweets, the moment you hear that man’s name, your eyes are a dead giveaway.”

  Well, that was reassuring. If Tyler had found her as easy to read, that explained why he hadn’t chased after her. Or even contacted her in the last two weeks.

  Yeah, she’d left him that morning. It was part of her new selfless M.O. The more time that passed, however, Sherry decided she wasn’t a fan. Part of her honestly thought he’d fight for her. Realize he was in love with her too, and fly back to snag her. The big Hollywood ending.

  She sighed. First thing in the morning, she was bringing her entire library to Goodwill. This was what reading did to you—gave you silly, ridiculous schoolgirl hopes.

  “Oh, turn it up!” Tootsie, the big old flirt who owned the dog spa, turned around and flapped her hand in the air. “Turn it up! Blue’s up next!”

  Cane reached behind the bar and dialed the volume higher. A commercial for toilet paper so soft it felt like a million angels kissing your arse. Why anyone would want celestial beings snogging their bottom, Sherry didn’t know, but she was thankful for the strange and random distraction. Unfortunately, it was short-lived.

  The late show returned, and the spunky, adorable host, Jennifer Marr, smiled on screen. “My next guests are a country singing phenomenon. Their latest album just released, and the first single, ‘Rain Dance,’ debuted at number one.”

  The camera panned, and Sherry’s breath locked in her lungs. There was Tyler. Her music man. Wearing the flipping belt buckle; snug, low-slung jeans; and a denim shirt. His guitar was strapped around his chest, his eyes were steady, and he’d never looked better. Her chest ached for him.

  “Now, before the guys play it for us, I thought we’d get the inside scoop.” Jennifer turned to Tyler and grinned. “I’m a big fan of yours, have been since the debut album, but I’ve got to say, this song blew me away. It’s much more emotional than your previous songs. Care to divulge why?”

  Tyler chuckled at the ground, almost looking embarrassed. The shy, adorable thing only made him hotter. Lord, she was whipped on this boy.

  “Well, as you know, Jennifer, I recently got married.”

  Angelle clutched Sherry’s hand as the crowd at Robicheaux’s cheered.

  Tyler grinned at the studio audience’s enthusiasm. “Thank you,” he said with a small nod to the crowd before turning back to the host. “This was the first love song I’ve written since truly learning what love is. My wife, Sherry, opened my eyes.” He paused and swallowed hard, a look Sherry had never seen before on his face…vulnerability mixed with determination.

  She leaned forward, heart galloping in her chest, pulse thrumming in her ears, and the weight of her family’s stares on her cheek. Pants of breath escaped her lips as he scratched the back of his neck and glanced at Charlie. Then, staring straight into the screen, he said, “She’s home now, back in Magnolia Springs, but I hope she’s watching tonight. Sugar, if you are, this one’s for you.”

  His fingers caressed the strings of his beloved guitar as he nodded to the band. Jennifer Marr turned to the camera and as she stepped back with a wide smile, held her arms out and said, “Blue, everybody!”

  The crowd cheered appreciatively as the song that he’d supposedly written about her, that he said she’d inspired, began. And as she listened to it, the lyrics about a beautiful woman who danced in the rain and captivated the heart of the man who secretly adored her, Sherry’s broken heart knitted together.

  All it took was one verse, one cycle of the chorus, for her to make up her mind. Yeah, the hero often made the grand gesture in the end and fought for the woman he loved, but it wasn’t solely a man’s job. She was the heroine in this story—and it was time to get her man.

  Whipping off her apron, she turned to her friend, who was smiling with her arm already extended to take it. “Go,” Angelle said, nodding toward the door. “Be happy. You deserve it.”

  Hope tingling beneath her skin, electrifying her veins, Sherry bounced on her toes and grinned. “You know, I think I do.”

  Cane held his hand up to his ear from behind the bar, signaling for her to call when she arrived in L.A., and Colby blew her a kiss. Her heart swelled with the love and support of her family, and it gave her that last boost of confidence she needed to bolt for the door.

  Only, before she could reach the knob, it opened for her…

  And Tyler barreled in.

  …

  His beautiful wife stared at him, mouth dropped in shock, as she glanced back and forth between him and the television. She swung her head back a final time, purple strands lashing across her lips, and said, “You’re here.”

  Nodding, he took a step toward her. “I took the first flight I could out of L.A.”

  The door closed behind him, jingling the bells again, and this time, the patrons who’d previously been glued to the show noticed him. Gasps and whispers of “He’s here,” broke among them.

  “I needed to see you,” he admitted, stopping in front of her. He reached out and skimmed his fingers over her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and he said, “Seems I figured something out today.”

  Sherry smiled, the soft skin of her throat sliding against the heel of his palm. “Oh yeah? What’s that, music man?”

  Tyler raised his gaze to see practically the entire town of Magnolia Springs, including her whole family, unabashedly listening in. He chuckled and said, “You know I hate big speeches, darlin’. I tend to get tongue-tied and awkward, and I’ve always preferred to let my lyrics speak for me. But it seems, once again, you inspire me.”

  He swallowed down the small lump in his throat, the knot of insecurity telling him he’d waited too long, and said, “I’m miserable without you, Sherry. I never should’ve left you here”—he glanced at the listening crowd—“waiting for me to return while I went on the road. My career, the awards and recognition, hell, even the music, it’s meaningless without you. It’s empty. And today, I realized why I push myself so hard.”

  He placed his other hand on her sweet face, now cradling it between his palms, and her gaze implored him to continue. “I’m always chasing the next goal. The next achievement. Trying to fill that void and find the happiness I’ve only ever felt once in my life.” Tears welled in her hazel eyes. “With you.”

  A sob escaped her parted lips. “Really?”

  “Apparently, happiness has been hiding behind exuberant smiles and rain-soaked dances,” he answered wit
h a grin. She laughed at that, and a tear slid down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb.

  “I’m not saying a life with me will be easy. The road is chaotic and the media is fickle.” Tyler glanced again at the eavesdropping customers and locked eyes with Cane. Swallowing hard, he nodded at his brother-in-law and turned back to his wife. “But if you’ll have me, I promise to spend the rest of our lives putting you first. Spending equal time here, in Magnolia Springs, with your—our family. Making sure that incredible smile never leaves your face.”

  Another fat tear fell down her cheek, followed by another and another. Sherry laughed as her hands clamped around his wrists, tugging him even closer. He gladly closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers…a brush, a slide, a sweet caress…then pulled back, chuckling at her frown.

  When he let go of her face and got down on one knee, right there in the middle of her family’s crowded restaurant, that frown was replaced with a gasp.

  “Our marriage began a bit unconventionally,” he said with a smile, raising his voice to include the awwing crowd, and they laughed in appreciation. “And though I wouldn’t change a single moment of the last month, I believe I owe my beautiful bride here a real hometown wedding.”

  That, as expected, got an enthusiastic response. Neighbors cheered, and Sherry slapped a hand over her mouth as Tyler took her left one. The one already wearing his ring.

  “Marry me again?” he asked, staring up into her eyes. Lowering his voice for her ears, he added, “This time fully sane and rational?”

  Sherry laughed, full and free, and that breathtaking smile curved her mouth. “Baby, you should know by now I’m never fully sane and rational.” Sinking down to her knees, she brought his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. “But Tyler, I’d marry you again in a heartbeat. You are my fairy tale.”

  Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding—she said yes!—he crushed her body to his chest and brought his mouth down on hers. Her lips were salty with tears and tasted of forever, and he threaded his fingers in her hair. He’d been an idiot for so long. Too long. Music may be his passion—but this, right here, was his dream.

  When his lungs burned for air and he had to draw back, he broke away.

  “God, I love you,” he whispered roughly, pressing a kiss against her forehead before leaning his forehead against hers.

  Sherry bit her lip, a half-laugh, half-sob sound escaping. She closed her eyes, head hung limp as her hands clutched tighter on his back. Exhaling against his neck, she looked up again, those mesmerizing eyes flaring with emotion.

  “And I love you, music man. You are my happily ever after.”

  Then her mouth claimed his again, and the entire restaurant erupted in applause.

  Epilogue

  18 months later…

  “I’m pregnant,” Sherry explained as she took a seat at the table on the tour bus. “Not incapacitated.”

  So she’d stumbled walking from the master in the back. Big whoop. Their current house was on freaking wheels. Her balance would’ve been off even if she weren’t carrying the equivalent of a giant basketball in her stomach. But she was indeed with child—a future soccer player or Rockette if kicks were any indication—and her baby-daddy was a worrywart.

  “You should be lying down,” Tyler grumbled, sliding on the bench beside her. His expert fingers immediately found the throbbing knot at the base of her spine. It had been spasming all day. “Please humor me. You’re due in a week, we’re at the tail end of a tour, and for all my luck, you’re gonna pop in the middle of a concert.” The pressure from his hand eased as he kissed her temple. “I just want you to be safe.”

  Gold in Fort Knox isn’t guarded as safely, she thought with a chuckle. Honestly, though? The über-protective, clueless-future-father vibe was hot. Seeing her music man worry over her, fuss, make sure doctors were on call in every city they toured…she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t a turn on. Tyler loved her. Truly, completely, totally loved her, and he showed it every minute of every day.

  Who knew happiness like this existed outside of books?

  Deciding to cut the man some slack, she smiled and grasped his slightly stubbled chin. She tugged him down for a kiss on the lips—that temple business so wasn’t cutting it—and said, “I am safe. A bodyguard trails my every step. Arianne is back in control of Meet and Greet duties, and Angelle is handling everything with Fairy Tale Endings in Magnolia Springs.”

  As a second wedding present, Tyler had purchased her rent-to-own cottage, making the site where their love story began officially theirs. They went back as often as they could, considered it their home, and spent the entire fall and Christmas season with her family. That was when Blue created their latest album, and when they created the baby she affectionately called Whopper. That’s all this thing craved—meat, meat, and more meat. In between runs to the nearest Burger King, she’d also set up a thriving event planning business and recently hired Angelle as her partner.

  “I’m fat, happy, and practically living in bubble wrap,” she continued with a grin. “And Elizabeth Angelina Blue would be blessed to enter this world while her daddy’s kicking butt on stage. Some of his best lyrics are inspired by a fabulous woman.” Her husband scrunched one eye and sized her up, then flashed his crooked grin. Expert fingers moving again, only this time decidedly south of the base of her spine, he murmured his agreement. “Can’t argue with that. A hot woman, too.”

  “Good God, I’m eating here!” Charlie made a production out of gagging, but she saw through his act. He was going to make an amazing honorary uncle. And, hopefully, occasional babysitter. “I thought you two would’ve gotten all the gushy, mushy, love crap out of your system after the last tour.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Tyler replied. “But hey, look on the bright side. All this gushy, mushy, love crap is the reason our last two albums kick such ass.” He slid his arm around Sherry’s shoulders and cuddled her close. “Embrace it, my friend.”

  “Better yet, get your own woman,” she suggested, smiling despite the increased pain in her back. It was an ongoing joke between them. Charlie was the eternal playboy with a heart of gold. One day he’d settle down and make a fabulous boyfriend. For now, she’d just tease him into submission.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Charlie rolled his eyes and shoved a spoonful of Cap’n Crunch into his mouth. Loud crunching soon filled the bus.

  Sherry shifted her enormous weight on the bench. Man, today was a doozy. Pregnancy had been relatively easy on her thus far. A few bouts of morning sickness in the beginning, fatigue around the second trimester, and her obsession with meat (and unattractive waddle) in the third. Mostly, though, she was enjoying the hell out of this thing.

  Today, however, she’d awoken with a dull pain in her lower back that wouldn’t go away. In fact, hours later, it seemed to be getting worse.

  Lord, what would actual labor feel like?

  Just then, another spasm rocked her core. Teeth clenched, she gripped Tyler’s thigh as she breathed through the cramp.

  “Still in pain?” When she nodded jerkily, Tyler swung his gaze about the bus. “Want me to grab the heating pad?”

  “No.” Thankfully, the spasm was easing. After a few more moments of deep breathing, all that remained was a dull ache. A low laugh bubbled in her throat as she slumped against the seat. “I’m fine. I think Whopper’s just punishing me for the Chinese last night. Sticky note to self: only burgers until I give birth.”

  “Uh, Sher?”

  Sherry glanced at Charlie to see his head tilted, gaze darting between them.

  “You think maybe you’re in labor?”

  “No.” She shook her head forcefully. “Oh, no. I’m not due for another week. Besides, it’s almost all in my back.”

  Cereal bowl forgotten, he grabbed for his phone. “Are the pains lasting longer and longer?” he asked, eyebrows raised. She nodded reluctantly. “And coming frequently?”

  Well damn. Wh
en he put it like that…

  “But it’s only in my back,” she repeated.

  Charlie shrugged. “Five older sisters, twelve nieces and nephews, and only a few had traditional contractions. The rest all had back labor.” His gaze flicked to Tyler. “What? I’m a good brother. You find the nearest doctor, and I’ll go tell the driver.”

  Without another word, her husband leapt from the bench. He went to the back of the bus, Charlie stalked to the front, and Sherry sat there, staring at the tabletop.

  “But it’s only in my back!”

  This was not happening. She’d done her research, read her books, and every stinking one of them said she needed a birthing plan. So, by God, she’d actually made one. And it was already an epic fail.

  For starters, she looked a mess. Far too many photos existed of stringy-haired, sweaty women holding their babies, and that business was supposed to end here. Her baby’s first photo was going to show a darling angel, a proud papa, and a glistening mama with full-on makeup.

  Currently though, thanks to the dull ache she’d had all morning, the only thing Sherry was rocking was cherry-flavored Chapstick.

  Also, Merle Haggard? So not in her birthing plan. No, she had a playlist prepped, ready, and filled with girl power. Katy Perry, Beyoncé, even old-school Madonna. Music to empower her, give her confidence, and keep her sane until the good doc arrived with drugs. No trains, tractors, or whiskey involved.

  Sherry’s gaze swung to the dead phone holding her beloved playlist hostage.

  Why could she never remember to charge the bloody thing?

  As if in agreement, a new spasm shot up her spine, rocketing her off the seat. Instinctively, she curled forward to shield baby Whopper from the pain, and breathlessly called out, “Babe?”

  Her voice was so low she doubted he’d even heard her, but a moment later, Tyler marched back down the hall, duffel bag in one hand, functioning cell phone in the other. “I just called Colby and they’re on their way.” Eyes wide and alert, he tossed the bag on the counter, scooped her into his arms, and said, “The nearest hospital is two miles away. Hang on, sugar, we’re almost there.”