Accidental Baby: Ryder & Trina's Story (Fake Marriage Romance Book 2)

by Ajme Williams

  Sinclair laughed. “You could be right. Maybe you could loosen her up a bit. She takes life too seriously.”

  “I thought it was just me she was prickly around.” I put ice in the glasses.

  “She’s most prickly around you, but she’s pretty intense and judgy around most things. She likes order and control, two things that aren’t associated with you.” She looked toward my windowsill. “Don’t forget the mint. It will be a nice touch.”

  I laughed, thinking it was strange to have my sister playing cupid. “Thanks.” I pulled two leaves from the plant.

  “I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “You’re not staying for some tea?”

  “Nah. I’ll let you get started on your bet. Play nice,” she ordered.

  “I’m always nice,” I said as I poured tea into each glass.

  “Oh yeah. Hopefully, she’ll play nice.”

  I wasn’t going to hold my breath. At least, not initially. Trina was a sexy, beautiful woman, but like a rose, she had thorns and wasn’t afraid to use them. My hope was that I could wear her down enough that she could put her thorns away, and we could be friends. Okay, I wanted more than friends, but if that’s all I got, I’d accept that. What I had a hard time with was how hostile she was to me most of the time after we’d grown up together as friends.

  I put a mint leaf in each glass and once Sinclair left, I took the glasses to Trina’s room.

  “Tea?” I asked as I entered the room. Trina was standing by the window, looking out over the vast Nebraska landscape.

  She turned and quirked a brow in suspicion.

  I laughed. “It’s just iced tea.”

  She took the glass I extended to her. “There’s no Long Island in it, is there?”

  “I’m off bartending duty now. Besides, I’m not the type of husband to slip his wife a mickey.”

  She frowned. “That’s too weird.”

  “What is?”

  “You calling me wife.”

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t feel so weird to me.” I sort of liked it, although it could be that I enjoyed it because it bugged her so much. I liked pushing her buttons, which might be why she was always wary of me. I’d have to work on that.

  She smirked. “Come on, you’re not the marrying type.”

  The comment annoyed me, but I tried to hide it behind a sip of my tea. “Why do you think that?”

  “What is your longest relationship? A week? Two?”

  Ten years, I thought, but who was counting? The truth was, since high school there had been something about Trina that I’d never been able to get out of my system. The fact that ten years later it was still there, even though she clearly barely tolerated me, said something about me. I wasn’t sure if it said that I was capable of a long-term relationship or that I was delusional in thinking I could change her mind about me. If anything, though, it showed I was patient.

  “Does that mean you’re not the marrying type? Because I haven’t seen you in any sort of long-term relationship.” The idea of another man calling her wife didn’t sit well with me. I rolled my shoulders to release the tension that idea caused.

  She shrugged and turned away. “I’ve got more important things than worrying about men.”

  “Like what?” I leaned against the wall as I watched her. She said she didn’t like the décor, but to my mind, she fit in the room. Maybe not with the old blankets, but she had a classic beauty and a traditional sturdiness, just like the house.

  “Like my work.”

  “And?” I prodded.

  She turned. “This is the twenty-first century. Women don’t need a man to define their lives.”

  I held my free hand up in surrender. “I’m a feminist too. I’m not saying women need a man. But let’s face it, mankind needs men and women to forge relationships to ensure continuation of the species.”

  “Darwinism dictates that the strongest women mate with the strongest men, too.”

  I frowned. “Why do I get the feeling you’re saying I’m weak?” I flexed my bicep. For a second, I thought I saw a flash of appreciation in her eyes for the round hard muscle, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived.

  “My point is that you and I wouldn’t be a match mother nature would arrange. We’re incompatible,” she said.

  “Really? I thought opposites attract.” To be honest, there were times I wondered why I still carried a torch for this woman. I was either a glutton for punishment or cupid had a deranged sense of humor.

  “In romance novels, maybe. But in real life, no.”

  I sighed. “You’re a hard woman, Katrina.”

  Her breath hitched like it always did when I called her by her full name. “You can’t tell me that I wouldn’t annoy you just as much as you annoy me.”

  “You don’t annoy me,” I said. Vex. Baffle. Those were better words to describe how she impacted me.

  Her brow arched like she didn’t believe me. “So you just like to toy with me?”

  I grinned. “There is a certain enjoyment that comes with poking at you, but mostly you intrigue me.”

  “Intrigue?” She didn’t buy that either.

  “Your turn. Why do you hate me?” I asked. I’d planned to bide my time to learn what made her change toward how she treated me ten years ago, but it seemed relevant to the conversation.

  “You know why.” She turned away, looking back out the window.

  “If I knew why, I wouldn’t ask.” I watched her, wishing she’d just open up for once. I could almost see the wall she’d built around her. Why was it there? I was the last person she needed to protect herself from. Not just because I liked her, but because I wasn’t the type of guy who hurt people. Sure, I made jokes, and maybe I didn’t take life seriously enough, but there wasn’t a mean-spirited bone in my body.

  “The fact that you don’t know shows how insensitive and self-centered you are.”

  I jerked, surprised by her words. “Then maybe you should set me straight.”

  She sighed. “It doesn’t matter.” She went to the box on her bed and took out some books. “I’m going to finish unpacking.”

  My jaw clenched and I wanted to push the matter. Knowing it was fruitless and that I had time, I let it go. “I’m going to grill some steaks. You can toss together the salad,” I said as I moved to leave the room.

  “Right. Salad. Woman’s work. Do you even have a refrigerator, or is the kitchen as antiquated as the rest of the place?”

  I smiled, even though on the inside her attitude irked. “Careful, honey, your claws are out.”

  For a moment, she looked chagrined, but then she smirked. Because I didn’t want to give her more fodder to burn me with, I strode out the door. For the first time, I wondered if this bet was a bad idea. Yes it was nuts, but I wondered if we’d come out further apart than closer together.

  Trina had always had a part of her that seemed aloof, and later, as she got older, I could see he had a wall around her. As kids, when she’d come over to our house to play with Sinclair, I remembered how lost she often looked, and I’d wished I could fix that for her. Later, my feelings grew from a childhood affection to something stronger in high school, but not long after that, she’d decided I was not someone she liked. It was possible that this bet would push her even further from me. That’s not the outcome I wanted, but if it was what happened, at least I’d know and I could move on.

  In the kitchen, I pulled the steaks that I had marinating from the fridge, and began to prepare them for the grill.

  Trina entered the kitchen, and for once, she seemed impressed by my stainless-steel appliances and refurbished country cabinets.

  “Produce is in the fridge.” I nodded toward the appliance.

  She began pulling out the vegetables. “Bowl and cutting board?”

  I pointed to the cupboard with the salad bowl and handed her the cutting board.

  She opened the cupboard and frowned as she took out the bowl. She began opening other cupboards and lifting up pl
ates and other items she found there, frowning and putting them back.

  “Problem?” I asked.

  “You have hardly any dishes, and what you do have don’t match. There’s only a set of three plates.”

  I rolled my eyes as I picked up the plate with the steaks. “Here’s a fourth plate.”

  She still shook her head.

  “I’m only one person. And what do I care about matching plates?” Why was I having to defend my plates?

  “Typical man.”

  “I can see why you’re not married,” I said as I started out toward the kitchen door to the deck that held the grill.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked tersely.

  “It means you're judgmental and unappreciative.” God, this really was going to backfire on me. Between my perceived insensitivity and self-centeredness and her judgmental and unappreciative attitude, we were going to have a long month.

  I walked outside, shaking my own head as I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. This was definitely a bad idea. Trina was well ensconced in her personality. Did I really think she’d soften up toward me?

  It’s only thirty days, I reminded myself. I turned on the grill and began cooking the steaks. I considered inviting Trina to come sit on the deck with me. The air was pleasant, and the view was nice with the river just off in the distance. But I decided she might ruin the calm. I’d been fake married for less than an hour, and I was already understanding why men had man caves.

  I could hear her inside making the salad, often talking to herself. Most of her comments were fussing about my home. My cutlery wasn’t sharp enough. My salad servers didn’t match. I rolled my eyes, wondering why that was such a big deal. As long as things worked, what did it matter if they matched?

  When the steaks were done, I brought them back into the kitchen. Trina was putting the pitcher of tea on the table which was set complete with mismatched utensils and plates. She had paper towels folded into napkins, and she had plucked a flower from the yard and put it into a juice glass in the middle of the table. I was hit with a wave of rightness about the scene. This was what I’d wanted; Trina in my house, making a home with me.

  “This will have to do,” she said with her usual disapproving tone.

  Inwardly I laughed. This was what I wanted? I was right. Cupid was fucking with me.

  6

  Trina

  I sat at my desk the next day feeling cranky for no good reason. Well, there was one good reason. Ryder. That man was so … so … infuriatingly and annoyingly nice. He was right about the type of person I was. I was judgmental, which made me feel like a heel. The truth was, while his home was old and tired, it held a certain charm. The blankets on the bed looked like they were sewn by Ma Kettle, but the bed they covered was amazingly comfortable.

  Nothing matched, but that didn’t take away from the fact that Ryder knew how to grill a good steak. He also picked a nice wine and had my favorite ice cream for dessert. I wanted to be annoyed at him, but he was so nice and accommodating, which was irritating in and of itself, but also made me feel ungrateful.

  So as good as the food was and comfortable the bed was, I woke up irritated by my whole situation. I was ready to pick a fight, which I initiated with the rickety coffeemaker. Seriously, that thing has to be older than me. Ryder had to intervene before I tossed the old coffee maker out the window.

  “It’s ancient, but it brews the best damn cup of coffee you’ll ever have,” he said as he scooped the grinds into the filter.

  He was right about that too. Damn him. The brew was dark and smooth, and woke up my brain. He even found a to-go cup and poured me a cup to take with me.

  I was staring at that damn cup when Sinclair and Mayor Valentine entered the outer area of the mayor’s office. With them was a young woman who looked like she stepped out a coed cheerleading magazine. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, and an eagerness in her expression as she took in the office surroundings.

  “Trina, this is Brooke Campbell, a new assistant. Brooke, this is Trina Lados, senior administrative assistant,” the mayor said.

  I looked at him and then Sinclair in surprise. I didn’t know he was hiring anyone. Usually the hiring of assistants went through me.

  “Hi. Welcome,” I said, managing a smile. “I didn’t realize we had a new person coming on.” There were a bazillion pieces of paperwork that needed to be done, which I felt certain neither he nor Sinclair had initiated. The heads of offices, whether it was a CEO or a mayor, were often viewed as all-knowing, but the fact of the truth was, if you needed to know anything about what was going on in an office, the secretary was the one to ask. She was also the one outsiders had to get through to get to the mayor, which had me wondering how this woman had reached the mayor to get hired without my knowing. I was very good at my job, and I knew without a doubt that she hadn’t come through the office. She’d accessed him outside of work, and for some reason, he’d allowed it. Then again, she was pretty, so maybe she used her feminine wiles.

  “I know you’ve been swamped, so I took the liberty,” he said.

  I frowned. I’d been busy, but I was never swamped. I was too organized to be swamped. I had a phobia of the feeling of being overwhelmed, so I did my damnedest to avoid it.

  “Ms. Campbell is a friend of the family, and I know you’ll take good care of her getting her settled and showing her the ropes,” the mayor said. “Brooke, why don’t you take the office next to mine.”

  My brows shot up. She got an office? I looked toward Sinclair, who shrugged. The mayor escorted Brooke to the office next to his.

  “Technically that space should be yours,” I said to Sinclair. “It’s bigger than the one you have.”

  Sinclair watched as the mayor and Brooke entered the office. “I like mine being down the hall. Sometimes when Wyatt comes to see me—”

  “Stop. I don’t want to know.” Of course, I already did know. There was no mistaking the satisfied expressions they sported after spending time alone behind Sinclair’s closed door. “What’s he doing?” I asked, working to change the subject.

  “She’s the daughter of Mo’s neighbor and apparently a good friend. She graduated from college and needs a job.”

  That rankled. “He’s abusing his authority. There are proper channels for hiring.”

  Sinclair shrugged. “She’s got the skills. She’s smart and articulate. And we could use the extra hands. You should be happy. You can pass off some of your grunt work to her.”

  I couldn’t help but feel like I was somehow letting the office down if the Mayor and Sinclair felt the need for additional help. But I didn’t want to admit I felt slighted.

  “It still looks improper,” I said.

  “Never mind about her. How’s married life?” Sinclair grinned at me. “Tell me all about the honeymoon.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’d expect that sort of comment from your brother, but not you.”

  Sinclair laughed. “Trouble in paradise already?”

  “You’re getting way too much enjoyment from this. You know he rubs me wrong.”

  “So, he rubbed you?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  I pursed my lips at her. “Of all the people to do this bet with, he’s the worst.”

  “First, you could do a lot worse than Ryder. He’s easy-going, which with your temperament will make this little experiment easier.”

  She was wrong about that. His easy-going nature irked me to no end.

  “Second,” she continued, “I’m not the one who chose him. Ryder volunteered. I have to wonder why he’d do that knowing you as we do.”

  There was something in her statement that suggested a deeper meaning.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “You said it yourself; oil and water.”

  I shrugged. “He probably just wanted the opportunity to annoy me more than he already does. He gets a perverse sense of joy out of hassling me.”

  “What did he do last n
ight to annoy you?” she asked.

  “His plates don’t match.”

  “No!” Sinclair made an exaggerated horrified look. “How did you ever survive? What else? I suppose he put the mint in the tea wrong.”

  “No. That was good.”

  “His steak overcooked?”

  “No.” I was forced to admit he was a good cook.

  “The bed was lumpy?”

  I huffed out a breath. “It was comfortable.”

  Sinclair slapped her hand on my desk. “I can’t believe he made you endure all that. What was he thinking?”

  I hated that I was coming out looking like a petty bitch. Damn it, I was a petty bitch. “Fine, it wasn’t so bad. But it wasn’t my space.”

  “You know, I get that order is comforting, but it can be limiting too. Maybe you should see this as an adventure. Open yourself to new experiences. New possibilities.”

  “It’s a fake marriage. I’m not sure what you think I’m going to get out of it.”

  Sinclair’s eyebrows waggled suggestively.

  Was she joking? “No. Not in a million years would I sleep with Ryder.”

  She frowned. “Why not? He’s a good-looking guy. He has had practice, so he’s probably good at it. And let’s face it, you could use it. You could use a little tension reduction.”

  I gaped. “He’s your brother!”

  “So?”

  “I’m your friend. Friends don’t sleep with their friend’s brother.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Jeez not you too.”

  “Me too what?”

  “When Wyatt and I got together the summer after high school, he wanted to keep us a secret because he said that friends didn’t sleep with their friend’s sister. That damn bro code. And now you’re telling me there’s a sister code?” Sinclair shook her head. “I’d be perfectly fine if you and Ryder wanted to hookup or even have a relationship.”

  I stood, deciding it was time to end this conversation by getting to work. “Have you met me and your brother? I’m not attracted to him, and I’m certain he’s not attracted to me. We don’t like each other. All we do is snipe.”