Thousand Yard Bride

by Nora Flite

  Hunter looked over at Poppy, who was slumped in a chair getting more and more intoxicated. “We need to get her out of here before she blows up again. I know how she is when she’s drinking, and this isn’t going to go away."

  I sighed. “What about Reese? Where is he? Maybe he can distract her."

  “We can try it. He’s always got my back, so I’m sure he will." He spotted his friend, moving to meet him on the dance floor. I watched them chatting, and a minute later, Reese bent down to grab up the crystal clutch. Then, he swung over to Poppy all while dripping Irish charm.

  Whatever he said to her as he handed her her clutch, it got her off the chair. They left the room, Reese throwing us a quick wink as they passed by.

  Hunter returned, his golden eyes shining. “Reese is getting her some air. He'll take her home, too."

  "That's great," I said, breathing easier. I saw just a little bit too much of Camille in Poppy, and it made me sympathize with her in spite of everything she'd done—or tried to do. "Can I ask . . . it's stupid, but . . ."

  "The Bahamas?" Sighing, he looked again at the exit. "That fucking trip. All I did was get caught in the middle of fighting off a drunken waitress. I swear, I wasn't doing anything, but Poppy called me in the middle of it . . . she heard the girl's voice, the way she was being flirty and dirty . . . and that was it. Poppy thought I'd cheated."

  My nod was slow, considerate. "Are you sorry that it happened that way?"

  Hunter blinked at me, clarity crossing his face. "No. We weren't meant to be together and if it hadn't been the cheating with Benny, it would have been something else. Things happen for a reason," he said, taking my hands with a smile. "Right?"

  I was gushing with a thousand pounds of hormones. My face hurt from grinning.

  The master of ceremonies' voice boomed over the mic. “Can I have the lovely bride and her dashing groom over by the cake, please? It’s time for things to get even sweeter, ladies and gentlemen.”

  Claudette, the wedding planner, sent us to a side room to wait for the crowd to flood out of the club and onto the covered walkway. It was strange to be shuffled around and hidden from people, but I liked these intimate moments the best.

  Hunter squeezed my hand just before Claudette opened the door to signal for us to make our grand departure. Hunter linked his arm in mine and said, “Are you ready for this, Jo? Or should I say, Mrs. Hunter Daniels?”

  “Ready as I'll ever be." Leaving was the easy part.

  He held up his pinky. “Pinky swear?”

  Just like the first time he'd done this, my insides clenched. He'd done it months ago to help me believe he'd never reveal the truth about our hook up. Again, all I could think about was how his fingers had been deep inside of me.

  Shivering, I put my pinky finger around his just before he pulled me in for a kiss.

  "Here we go," he said against my throat. I let him lead me, I could have been floating through the crowd as the rose petals rained down on us.

  Just before I got into Hunter’s car, which was decked out in “Just Married” signs, streamers, and ribbons in the Hawks’ team colors, I saw something flash at the corner of my eye.

  Poppy in her gold dress.

  She smiled at me. A big, shiny smile that was all teeth.

  I never knew someone could smile so widely while still bristling with such spite.

  19

  Jo

  Hunter and I had only been married for eight days when his first regular season game began. It was an away game in California, and I hadn’t been feeling well, so I decided to stay in New Haven and focus on work in between bouts of nausea.

  The game was against the San Francisco Knights, a team that had been struggling lately as members dropped in and out. It would be an easy win for the Hawks.

  While I was already missing him—we'd grown so used to each other’s presence—I had plenty to distract me. I was supposed to move over the weekend into Hunter’s penthouse, a task that would have left me drained even if I didn't do the heavy lifting.

  Lanie had offered to help me. I was quick to accept. When I arrived at Hunter’s penthouse, she was already there directing the movers. “The box that says bedroom goes in the bedroom,” she said to someone, as if they couldn't read.

  When the mover came my way, I winced, apologizing for my sister. He made a face, laughing openly. "Her? We've dealt with way worse, believe me."

  It only took a few hours to move everything. I’d left my mismatched furniture and ancient appliances at my old place, there was no reason to bring those here. The only piece of furniture I insisted on bringing with me was my desk chair. I wasn't ready to part with it.

  I’d spent way too much time in that chair writing press releases. It was what made the one particularly cramped corner in my apartment qualify as my “home office.” I planned to do the same in the corner of my new bedroom. I wasn't sure where that was in Hunter’s huge mansion of a condo, but figured he wouldn’t mind what I chose to do with my own space.

  Lanie and I explored the penthouse and found the first spare bedroom. It was decorated like a hotel room, clean and modern and bland, with a bed that had probably never been slept in. I looked around, making sure the movers couldn't hear me. “I guess this is my new room?”

  “It’s not too shabby,” Lanie said. “It’s almost as big as your entire apartment. Nice closet space, too. What’s that room down the hall though? A man cave or something?”

  “I dunno. I’ve only ever been in the kitchen and Hunter’s bedroom."

  She waved her hands in the air. "Oooh, his bedroom. Just brag about it." She giggled, running ahead to open the door to another room. “Whoa! Come here, Jo, you’ve gotta see this.”

  I was expecting to find just another guest room.

  Hunter had set up an office for me.

  There was a huge desk with a picture window in front of it, and outside I could see blue skies, green trees, and the city of New Haven. It was way better than the parking lot view from my office at SportsFire. On the desk was a mug that read “Jo’s the Boss.” Next to the mug was a fancy color printer with a bow tied around it.

  “He got you a mug and a printer?” Lanie said, wrinkling her nose. “How romantic.”

  I was already cradling the machine. “Not just any printer! This is the top of the line. It’s a multifunction x-four thousand model with a fax, a copier, and a scanner included. It's beautiful."

  “Sis, are you seriously getting teary-eyed over a printer?”

  “It’s the pregnancy hormones. Well, and the fact that this puppy can print fifty sheets a minute. Isn’t it great?”

  Lanie looked at me like I was an alien. “You have a strange view of romance, but I'm happy if you're happy. Want me to help you with the closet, weirdo?” I nodded and followed Lanie back into my new bedroom.

  We finished unpacking the rest of my stuff. It was so strange to look at my closet and see that my new fancy dresses took up as much space as my suits and button downs. Not only did I have a selection of formal gowns, but I also had sundresses and cocktail dresses.

  When would I even have time to wear them all? Was I turning into someone else? My dresser was still filled with mostly jeans and ClimbTime gear, though, which made me feel more like myself. I made a mental note to talk to Victoria about donating my frilly frocks.

  “What’s your bathroom look like?” Lanie asked, already opening the door to it. “Ohhh, nice! Marble,” she said. “Plenty of storage space too. What’s Hunter’s like?”

  I called out to her from where I was testing the comfort level of the bed in my new room. “I don’t know, Lanie. Probably exactly like this one.”

  “Let’s find out!”

  “Lanie! That’s private.”

  “No it’s not,” she argued. “He’s your husband now. You should find out if he’s an over the roll or under the roll kind of guy.”

  “Ugh,” I said, before getting off the comfy bed to follow her.

  Lanie stood
inside Hunter’s huge steam shower. “I think you got the short end of the bathroom stick. I’ve never been in one of these before. I’m tempted to strip down and try it out right now.”

  “Please, do not.” I inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of Hunter. “What’s that smell?"

  Lanie handed me a bar of soap. “Is this it?”

  Turning it in my hand, I touched the slippery green surface. “It is mint! Mystery solved! I always wondered how Hunter smelled so good.”

  Lanie shrugged. “He’s got good taste in soap and showers. Honestly, I would marry this shower if I could." She turned it on, dodging the water spray.

  “I bet you would,” I laughed, turning the water off and pulling Lanie from the fancy bathroom so she could help me finish unpacking my own room

  After Lanie left, I went straight to work in my new office.

  I’d given myself the morning off, so I wanted to catch up before the Hawks’ first game at six. As soon as I turned on my computer, alerts came in left and right. I had it set up so that I got a notification every time a news site or blog posted about Hunter, and now my inbox was completely full.

  I settled in with a cup of tea and went through the items. A lot of them were hype about the new football season. Some outlets were still rehashing our wedding. Then I saw something that caught my eye; a story accompanied by a picture of Poppy and Reese on BloggySporty. The headline read, “Does This Heiress Have a Secret She’s Not Telling?”

  My heart raced. There was no way that Poppy could know what Hunter and I had been up to the last few months. She could have all the suspicions she wanted, but at the end of the day they didn't mean anything without proof—of which she had none. It was her word against ours.

  Still, I paused and took a deep breath before starting on the article. I read each word carefully, as if it was a puzzle I had to decode. To my relief, it was just about her and Reese potentially dating.

  I knew they weren’t really together—Reese would never—but I still wanted to know what the reporter, someone named Alicia Aster, had to say about the unfounded gossip. I needed to make sure she hadn’t leaked this story ahead of a bigger expose. Gossip reporters had a tendency to do shady things like that.

  I thought about how I could get my intel from Alicia without giving away anything and quickly came up with a plan. I would lure her in with a scoop about Reese, and convince her to give me information in exchange for an interview with him. I knew Reese would go with it. He would do anything to cover for Hunter.

  Plus, he was away in California now, so I could schedule the meeting for an in-person interview in a few days without looking shifty. Once I was happy with my plan, I searched for the blog’s office number on their website. Dialing, I waited for the receptionist to pick up and connect me with Alicia’s office.

  "Hello!" a woman chirped. "Who's calling please?"

  While I was going through the usual niceties with the receptionist—I’d learned by now that assistants and receptionists were always excellent people to make allies with at any office—I managed to get Alicia’s direct number and add it to my contact list.

  I was relieved when she picked up on the first ring. My sweet talk must have worked on the receptionist, because Alicia answered with, “How lucky am I to have Hunter Daniels’ P.R. rep calling me directly!”

  “Hi, Alicia,” I said, putting a smile in my voice. “I just wanted to connect with you about your fantastic article on BloggySporty about Reese and Poppy. That was some quick work.”

  “I know, right? Thanks for noticing,” she gushed. I let her bask in the glory of her journalism for a split second before getting to my point.

  “Anyway, I wanted to check in and see what you’re working on publishing next. If you’re going to follow up with it? I mean, I’m sure the readers want to know what Poppy’s secret is, and this article really didn't say.”

  “I know, right?” Alicia giggled on the other end of the line. “My editor told me to use that headline to get clicks. It’s supposed to make you think there’s something juicy, but the secret is just that she and Reese look like they’re dating. How spicy is that? Hunter’s ex and his best friend.” Then Alicia’s tone went somber. “Oh, sorry! I keep forgetting you’re his wife now!”

  “I know, right?” I parroted back to her, and then we shared a laugh. I’d found that the best way to make friends with these kinds of reporters was to meet them on their level. And I certainly couldn’t fault her for wanting to climb the career ladder. I’d been young and hungry too, once. Hell, I still was. Though at the moment, I was just relieved that Poppy hadn’t said anything about Hunter and me to the media.

  “What a Cinderella story you and Hunter have.” She sighed dreamily.

  “Yep. Quite a story,” I said, squirming in my cheer.

  “Now you’ll be Jo Daniels!” she gasped. “How crazy is that?” She rambled on, seeming to have forgotten who she was talking to on the other end of the line.

  “Totally crazy. Anyway, if you need an exclusive with Reese, let me know. I’d love to help you out with this story.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Daniels. I’ll check with my editor and get back to you,” she said before asking for my number and then hanging up.

  Feeling confident that I’d dodged a bullet in the form of Poppy going to the press with her accusations, I breathed easier. I caught up on the rest of the news items, many of which I’d actually arranged.

  In P.R. there are always reporters who throw curveballs and gossip rags that will fabricate stories. But just because most people don't take the gossip rags seriously doesn't mean you don't have to monitor them. Sometime they will guess at things. Somethings they will just make it up.

  And sometimes they get lucky, and the story that they made up ends up being true.

  Then they look like the best reporting outfit, when really they’re just throwing things against the wall hoping to get clicks. Over the last few weeks, I’d seen a few of those sorts of stories. My favorite one was about how I'd been a virgin until Hunter, which was entirely false, though I guess if you asked my sister about it she’d probably concur.

  After clearing my inbox, I looked at the clock and realized it was almost kickoff time. I made myself a bowl of popcorn and a plate of pickles and settled in on Hunter’s couch. Then I battled the remote and the cable box until I figured out how to turn on his huge TV.

  It came on with a blast of surround sound. This was a serious entertainment system. The last commercial ended and two sportscasters appeared on the screen in front of the football field.

  I looked at the sidelines and squealed like a schoolgirl when I saw Hunter in his uniform. I was really happy that no one, especially not Lanie, was around to watch me do that.

  It was strange. I’d spent so much time with Hunter in person, but every time I saw him on TV, I couldn't help but be taken with him all over again. Not only did he handle himself well in interviews, but he even had a certain presence just standing there drinking a Croc-Cooler while talking to the Hawks' head coach.

  Leaning closer and closer, I held my breath as the game went on. Hunter caught two touchdown passes, and on the second, I jumped up and cheered. The popcorn tipped over; I knelt, crawling on my aching knees as I picked up the mess. Being pregnant made everything so much harder.

  The game was a stunning success for the Hawks. In the post-game show, a sexy blonde sports reporter interviewed Hunter, cooing, “That was a stellar performance. Tell me, how do you feel?”

  Hunter looked at the camera dead on and said, “I’m just happy to make my new bride proud.”

  My cheeks burned. Was he flirting with me on national television? I wasn't sure what to think of that. I hadn’t coached him to say that. I’d told him to give the team all the credit and to say something about making his old man proud.

  Did he mean what he said?

  In the background, I spotted a familiar face—one I'd rather have not seen.

  Benny.

  Ten
sing up, I sat back on the couch. Hunter didn't acknowledge the other man; they'd basically avoided each other since their altercation. I was sure that Benny just wanted to keep things peaceful between himself and the other player, but I wished I knew what was going on beneath the surface.

  He really said he was just happy to make me proud. On television. As I cleaned up my dishes and unconsciously rubbed my belly, I wished that Hunter was with me.

  With us both.

  20

  Hunter

  It felt so good walking off the field after the game at the Knights’ stadium. When I stepped out of the cool California air into the steamy locker room, I walked into the thunderous applause of my teammates.

  I pointed at Reese who was leaning against the lockers smiling and said, “Hey. It’s all that guy there, I just catch the damn thing.”

  “No way,” Reese said. “It’s all you, brother. You have hands like a gecko. I have no idea how you pulled that last pass out of the air.”

  Jam, who was still in mid-victory dance, interjected, “Must be newlywed luck. Did you have the missus blow on your hands for good luck before the game?”

  “I bet that’s not all she blew!” Benny snorted.

  Some of the guys laughed, but I ignored the comment. I wasn't going to let him bait me and ruin this win for me or the rest of the guys. “Let’s just be happy with our performance, okay?”

  “Didn’t say I wasn’t happy, man,” Benny said, looking down sullenly at his feet as he unlaced his cleats.

  “That’s right,” Jam said. “We could all learn a lot from our boy Hunter. He went from meaningless sex—” The locker room cheered.

  Reese picked up where Jam left off. “To landing a stunning woman. He’s lucky. She’s a keeper."

  Benny rolled his eyes, mumbling, “For now,” under his breath before slamming his locker shut and wandering toward the showers.