by Jessie Evans
But if she did, then Nash would know. He would know that her desire for him wasn’t an act. He would realize that she really wanted him, the balance of power would tip in his direction, and he would have the upper hand for however many months they pretended to be married.
Aria was tired of a man having the upper hand, of waiting and hoping and praying for someone to want her the same way she wanted him and being disappointed again and again. She was tired of feeling like a weak, helpless fool. There was no way she was going to live like that again. She wasn’t going to let herself be trapped under another man’s thumb, especially not Nash Geary’s. He had already broken her heart once; she wasn’t going to give him the chance to do it again.
“I have a lot of practice faking it,” Aria said, breezily brushing her hair from her face. “My ex wasn’t always the best, especially after dragging into the house after a concert at three in the morning.”
“Is that right?” Nash’s eyes cooled, the pale green actually seeming to fade a shade or two as he pulled away.
“Yeah. Whiskey dick,” Aria said, shrugging. “You know how it is.”
“No, I don’t,” Nash said. “Can’t say I’ve ever been that drunk, or cared so little for the woman I was with to start something I wasn’t prepared to finish.”
Aria clenched her jaw, refusing to let his insult hurt her.
Or to imagine Nash “finishing” what they’d started.
“Well, you’re a real prince,” Aria said with a smile. “It’s amazing your ex was able to forget all that excellent attention after only six weeks.”
“Well, she’s a real bitch,” Nash said in a syrupy drawl so sweet it made her teeth ache. “The two of you would probably get along like peas and carrots.”
This time Aria couldn’t keep pain from blooming in her chest.
Who was he to call her a bitch? He was the one who had made fun of her when she tried to reach out to him all those years ago. He was the one who had made her feel like a fool for thinking he might be The One, a boy worth giving up her dreams of exotic places and mysterious men for a different kind of dream, a homegrown dream with a boy who made her feel safe and treasured and special in a way she’d never felt before.
But she had never been special to Nash, or it wouldn’t have been so easy for him to throw her away. The way Liam had thrown her away, even after she had given him everything, after she had opened her heart and loved him with every part of her—body and soul.
But all her love wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough.
If she was bitch, she had reason to be. The world had taught her that it was safer to be a bitch, to keep your guard up and your heart under lock and key and never risk being torn apart from the inside out ever again.
“Fine, I’m a bitch,” she said, staring at Nash’s chest, not wanting him to see the hurt in her eyes. “Do you still want to do this, or not?”
Nash was quiet for a long moment. Aria could feel him staring at her, but she refused to look up, keeping her eyes on his t-shirt until he lifted his beer and drank.
And drank. And drank.
When he slammed the cup back down on the wooden bar, it was empty.
“Let’s do it,” he said, holding out his hand. Aria took it, gripping his palm firmly as they shook on their Marriage of Insanity.
“Meet me at the courthouse tomorrow at ten thirty,” Nash said. “That should give us time to get the license and sign up to see the Justice of the Peace. He marries people at noon on Saturdays.”
Aria nodded. “I’ll wear white,” she said with a hard smile.
“I’ll wear a suit and bring you flowers and do my damnedest to make this work,” Nash said. “But the next time you look at me like I’m scum you scraped off your shoe while we’re in public, this is over.”
“And the next time you call me a bitch,” Aria said, releasing his hand with one final squeeze, “I’m going to kick you so hard between your cheesy, muscle man, tree trunk legs that your balls with be in your throat for a month.”
Before Nash could respond, she spun on her heel and headed for the exit to the beer tent. She would start putting on her happy face for their audience tomorrow morning. Tonight, she needed to get away from him before she did something she’d live to regret.
Jerk or not, Nash was her best shot at taking the wind out of Liam’s sails, ensuring his suit against her was dismissed, and retaining full physical and legal custody of her daughter.
For that, she would pretend to be in love with Nash Geary.
For that, she would pretend to be in love with the devil himself.
Chapter Four
For the first few minutes after waking, Nash was certain last night had been a dream.
But then he checked his phone, and saw the text Aria had sent late last night, telling him they would need to bring their birth certificates and two forms of I.D. in order to get the marriage license, and knew it was all real. He had really agreed to marry the first girl who had ever broken his heart, just to keep from looking like a fool in front of the second one.
In the cold light of day, it made about as much sense as cutting off his head to show his dick who was boss.
“It’s for the baby, too,” he mumbled as he shuffled into the bathroom to start the shower, wincing at the dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept well, and it showed.
Aria’s baby is none of your business. That’s her reason for doing this, not yours.
The voice of logic was right, but he couldn’t deny a part of him had fallen for Aria’s little girl that night at the March’s BBQ. In a family the size of his, he had spent a lot of time around a lot of babies, and been smitten with his share, but he had never met a kid as adorable as Felicity March.
Her name fit her perfectly. With her bright red hair sticking out in wild curls, green eyes the same color as her mama’s, and a smile so big and happy you couldn’t help but smile along with her, she was irresistible. A really special kid. She’d made him happy that night—in spite of the fact that Rachael had just moved out, and that Felicity’s mama was one of his least favorite people on the planet—and she was obviously Aria’s world. The way Aria’s face lit up with love every time she looked at her daughter got to him, it got to him enough that, for a little while, he had almost forgotten what a raving B-word Aria could be.
“Can’t use the B-word or she’s going to damage your balls,” he told his reflection as he spit toothpaste into the sink and reached for the shower door.
He had been talking to himself a lot since Rachael moved out. He would have to stop that once Aria moved in, or she’d think he was crazy.
God. Aria was moving in. With him. This afternoon.
He was already crazy, no “thinking” needed.
By the time he had showered, shaved, and located his best suit at the back of the closet, Nash had nearly talked himself into calling Aria and telling her the whole thing was off. But then he reminded himself of his third reason for marrying the eldest March sister, and went looking for his birth certificate and two forms of I.D.
He had to see the look on Bob March’s face when he realized Nash Geary, the white trash scum Bob had ordered kicked out of art camp twelve years ago, was married to his little princess. That a poor, pitiable Geary—the type who worked at fast food restaurants, not owned a small empire of them—was taking Bob’s daughter and granddaughter home to live with him, and that tonight Aria would be sleeping in Nash’s bed.
And she would be sleeping in his bed. Nash wasn’t giving up his comfy mattress. Besides, it was a California King. They could both sleep on it without ever having to touch. The two sides practically had their own time zone.
If she wanted a bed, she would sleep in his bed with him. Otherwise, she could take the couch. The second bedroom was full of his workout equipment—there was no way in hell he was moving that out to the garage to lift weights in the end of summer heat—and the third bedroom would be for Felicity.
Which reminded him…
>
He picked up his phone, and got Raleigh after the first ring.
“Where were you last night?” she asked. “I thought I saw you walking toward the beer tent, but then you disappeared.”
“Something unexpected came up,” he said, getting a little nervous as he realized he would have to lie to his sister about what was really happening. It was part of his bargain with Aria and he hadn’t asked for any exceptions, even for his closest sibling.
“Was it Rachael and Lee? I saw them making out by the corn dog stand. It was so repulsive I lost my appetite,” Raleigh said, the hint of pity in her voice enough to reaffirm Nash’s resolve.
He was sick of his family feeling sorry for him, and marrying a beautiful woman would certainly help with that, even if she was a girl he’d made a hobby out of hating in high school.
“No, it was something good. Great, really,” Nash said, forcing an upbeat tone into his voice. “That’s why I’m calling. I was going to ask if I could swing by and pick up Jason’s old crib this morning.”
“Why?” Raleigh asked.
“You’re done with it, right?” Nash hedged, not quite ready to spill the beans. There was still a chance Aria would back out at the last minute, and he didn’t want to give Raleigh, or anyone else, another reason to pity him.
“Of course I’m done with it,” Raleigh said. “I’m not Alex. I have no secret longing to have a brood the size of Mom’s. Two rowdy boys are plenty, thank you very much.”
“Great. I’ll be by to grab it out of your garage in a few minutes.”
“But I’m not home. We’re at soccer, and the game’s not over until—”
“That’s okay. I know where it is. I saw it a few weeks ago when Harry and I were putting the camping stuff away.”
“Okay, fine,” Raleigh said. “But you’re being weird.”
“Yeah, sorry. Hopefully, I’ll be able to explain everything tonight.” Nash smiled, an unexpected flash of excitement zigzagging through his body. Aria living in his house was a reality he still wasn’t completely prepared to deal with, but Felicity asleep down the hall, snuggled in her crib, was another thing altogether.
He was thirty-one years old. Nash had always thought he’d be married with a family by now, but the years—and the girlfriends—had come and gone and it had never felt right. Even in the early days with Rachael, when he’d been more gone on a woman than he’d been in years, it still hadn’t felt one hundred percent right. That’s why he’d told her no when she issued her ultimatum. He wanted to be married, he wanted a family and children of his own, but he didn’t want to settle for anything less than the real deal.
He wanted what his parents had, the kind of love that kept you going through hard times and made the good times all the sweeter. The kind that made you keep having kids and having kids and having kids because you just couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. (His mom swore none of them were accidents, but Nash and his brothers and sisters had their suspicions, especially about Phoenix and Denver, twin boys who came along ten years after their closest sibling, and were younger than some of their nieces and nephews.)
He wanted it all, but he was tired of waiting. And if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he was lonely. He had good friends, work buddies, and more family than most, but he still came home to an empty house every night. The thought of opening the door to Felicity’s laughter for the next few months was enough to keep a smile on his face for the rest of the morning.
He smiled as he fetched the crib and slid it into the back of his truck, and then ran to the flower shop on Main Street to grab a bouquet for Aria. He smiled as he parked a few blocks from the courthouse, and kept smiling as he walked up the steps, even though the outside temperature was already creeping close to ninety and he was wearing a suit.
His grin stayed where it was until he walked through the doors to the courthouse to see Aria standing by the windows, waiting for him in a shaft of morning light, and the smile fell clean away from his face.
She had her long, red hair pulled up into an elaborate pile on her head, with wisps swirling around her face in a way that emphasized her big eyes, and soft, full mouth. She was wearing a short, sleeveless white dress that bared her shoulders, revealing smatterings of freckles that were almost unbearably cute. Her long legs were bare and her high-heel sandals made her ankles look even thinner, so delicate it was amazing they could hold all of her on top of them.
She looked incredible, so beautiful it was almost painful to look at her.
Nash very nearly told her so, but at the last minute he remembered who he was talking to and said—
“You clean up nice,” in a casual voice.
“Thanks. You too,” she said, fidgeting as she took a deep breath and let it out. “Are those for me?”
For a moment Nash couldn’t imagine what she was talking about—he was still too distracted by how damned good she looked—but then he remembered the flowers in his left hand and held them out.
“Yeah. Um…hope you like calla lilies,” he said, her obvious nervousness beginning to infect him, as well. “The woman at the shop said they were good wedding flowers.”
“They’re beautiful,” she said, a smile flashing on her face for a moment before it was gone again. “Thank you.” She picked at the cellophane wrapped around the flowers, and took another shaky breath.
Nash stepped closer. “Nervous?”
She glanced up, her dark green eyes catching his, taking his breath away. “I just… I was thinking this morning,” she said, in a soft, troubled voice. “This isn’t just about you and me. I don’t want to do anything to hurt my daughter.”
Nash fought the urge to get defensive. This wasn’t a personal attack; this was Aria being a good mother, and she was right to take Felicity’s needs into consideration.
“I understand,” he said. “But I want you to know that I think Felicity’s a sweet, special little girl, and I would never do anything to hurt her.”
“Oh, I know that,” Aria said in a rush, sounding so certain it warmed something in Nash’s chest. “I just… Even at the BBQ that night, she was having so much fun playing with you and sitting on your lap and…”
Aria bit her lip, looking so troubled Nash had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms for a hug.
“What if she gets attached to you, you know?” Aria asked. “What’s going to happen when it’s time for us to end it?”
She had a point. What would they do? Nash wasn’t sure there was any standard protocol for a thing like this, but he knew there was always room for another niece or nephew in his life.
“Then I’ll be Uncle Nash,” he said with a shrug. “And I’ll see her whenever Mason comes over to my place. Maybe we can take her out on his boat together when she gets a little older.”
Aria’s brow furrowed. “Really? You would do that?”
“I would love to do that.” Nash smiled. “As long as it’s all right with you.”
Aria hesitated, but her brow smoothed and after a few moments she nodded. “Okay. Keeping Felicity is worth acquiring a fake uncle who thinks I’m the wicked bitch of the west. If it comes to that.”
Nash shifted uncomfortably in his dress shoes, regretting his angry words from the night before. “You didn’t stick around to hear my apology last night, so I’ll give it now. I’m sorry I inferred you were a B-word. It won’t happen again.”
Aria began to fidget again, his apology seeming to make her as nervous as their discussion about Felicity. “Well, thank you. For the apology,” she said then added in a swift mumble. “I’m sorry I threatened to kick you in the balls.”
Nash smiled at the embarrassment in her tone. “Well, thank you, Miss March. My balls are going to sleep better tonight.”
Aria rolled her eyes, but her lips curved at the edges. “God, this feels weird doesn’t it?” she asked. “Acting like we were in love sounded easier when I was drunk.”
Nash reached out, taking her free hand in his.
“Just pretend I’m someone else.”
“Like who?” Aria’s eyes widened as he pulled her closer.
“Don’t you have a fantasy guy?” he asked, putting his arms around her waist, finding it nearly as hard as it had been last night not to respond to the feel of her in his arms. She was the wrong woman, but he couldn’t deny that she felt very, very right pressed against him.
“A fantasy guy?” she asked with a raised brow.
“Yeah. Someone you pretend you’re with when the man of the night isn’t all you’d hoped he would be.”
Aria shrugged, but her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m not very good at fantasy. I’m more of a reality kind of girl.”
“I think you’re lying,” Nash said in a teasing voice, making her eyes snap back to his in surprise.
“I am not lying,” she said, a smile pulling at the edges of her mouth no matter how she tried to fight it.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” Nash drawled.
“Don’t call me darlin’,” Aria said in a husky voice that made Nash’s boxer-briefs feel a little tighter than they did before.
“How about doll face?” he asked
Aria wrinkled her nose.
“Sugar britches?” he asked, smiling when she laughed.
“That’s terrible. You suck at pet names,” she said even as she relaxed into him, tilting her face up to his. “I’m going to call you Meaty, in honor of all the muscle.”
“And I’ll call you Red,” Nash said, dropping his lips closer to hers, aching for another taste of her in a way that probably wasn’t healthy, and certainly wasn’t pretend.
She shook her head. “That won’t work. Then we’d be Red and Meaty. It sounds like the floor of a slaughter house.”
He smiled. “Then I guess I’ll have to stick with baby, baby,” he said, silencing her reply with a long, slow kiss that made his blood rush and the ache building low inside of him grow to the point that he finally had to pull away before he embarrassed himself.
Aria blinked up at him in surprise when he released her. Her breath came faster, her eyes glittered, and for a moment he was sure she had felt the same chemistry between them that he did, but then she said—
