Legally Wedded (Legally in Love Book 3)

by Griffith, Jennifer

  There was a fifty-yard walk from the parking lot down to the water. In her fuzzy slippers, she’d rather stay up here. Plus, here by the light of the parking lot’s streetlamp she could see the ring, and Josh’s very nice teeth. The air smelled of salt and pine, the Oregon coast smell.

  “Here is good.” A tremor of a chill shook her stomach muscles.

  They stood together on the gravelly asphalt. He was so jumpy. She didn’t mind. It was kind of cute to see him all excited. “It’s all out of order,” he said, “but we need a story to tell, and we might as well be telling the same one. Beach proposal it is.”

  “We don’t have to include all the details.”

  “Like the bats swooping for mosquitoes above us.”

  “Exactly. But this works.” Morgan shivered. “We might have to hurry.” Her stomach and kneecaps were trembling from the chill of the night.

  Then Josh seemed to come to himself, and he slid to one knee. He pulled out the ring again. Morgan stepped toward him. The waves sloshed in the distance below, and Josh looked up at her with expectancy in his face as she inched closer.

  He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask anything. It was super awkward.

  Finally, Morgan said, “Thank you?” What was she supposed to say? Was this a proposal? If so, he needed to phrase it right.

  He stood up and placed the ring on her finger. “Thanks for marrying me, Morgan.”

  She held the ring up, and then Josh extracted his keychain from his pocket and shone a little flashlight on the ring. “There,” he said, and Morgan could see it at last.

  It took her breath. “It’s beautiful!” It was red, not a diamond. Wow. She loved red stones, real or fake. “It even looks real. Oh, I hope you didn’t spend money on me.”

  “It’s a ruby.”

  “Ruby! Those are more expensive than diamonds. Especially for one this size.” Morgan felt sick. Here was a guy who’d gone to extraordinary lengths to pay tuition. He should not be blowing any cash on his fake wife’s vanity.

  “It was my mother’s.”

  His mother’s! Warm tingles flushed through her, followed by a cold shower of guilt. How could she accept such a thing?

  Josh towered over her, and at this moment, Morgan realized he still had hold of her other hand. “She’s been gone a few years. She won’t miss it.”

  As if that made it any better! “I can’t wear your mother’s special ring.” Because this ring had to be special. It was too gorgeous not to be.

  “Well, I can’t afford anything else right now. Can you just humor me?” Josh looked down, pleading with her. Morgan’s eyes had adjusted to the night’s dimness to see as much as that of his expression. “My mom would be the one person who’d see all the humor in this situation. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind. In fact, she’d probably give you her heirloom china just to perpetuate the story so everyone else would believe it.”

  Morgan had relaxed, a little, and looked at the ring. “It’s so pretty. I feel guilty.”

  “Don’t. Honest.”

  Morgan tugged her nightgown around her tighter, suddenly conscious again of her bare legs and the chill of the autumn night.

  “Thanks, Josh. I’ll wear it. And I’ll tell people you gave it to me on the beach. Under the stars.”

  “Good. That’ll make me look good.” He looked relieved, and some of his caffeine energy seemed to relax for a moment, until a wicked grin crossed his face. “And now I’ve seen how you look right when you wake up in the morning.”

  Morgan winced. “What’s that got to do with anything?” They walked back over to the Explorer and got in.

  “It’s what guys think about. That lunkhead Rick Van Zandt is bound to ask me. I don’t want to have to lie.” He raised an eyebrow at the irony of it. Josh started the engine and drove them toward their apartments again. The heater was a blessed relief, and her stomach stopped quivering after a minute.

  “Oh, really.” That was new. She’d thought lying was their new full-time hobby. “And what are you going to tell him when he asks?” No way did guys ask that kind of thing. She didn’t believe it for a second.

  “That your hair sticks straight up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But that your legs are amazing.”

  Cold prickles ran up her bare legs. Great. She really should start sleeping in sweats, or she should’ve at least pulled some on before she came outside and stood half-naked with a strange man, even if he was her husband.

  They got back to Estrella Court. Josh shut off the engine. He came around and opened her door for her, and they walked toward the courtyard again.

  Fine. If was going to be like that, he’d have to take some of his own medicine.

  “Well, if that’s what guys ask each other, and I seriously doubt it, here’s what girls really ask.” Morgan batted her eyelashes and affected a girly voice. “Ooh, Morgan, when he proposed to you on the beach, how was his proposal kiss? Did it blow your mind?”

  Josh cleared his throat. “And what are you going to tell them?”

  “The truth.” She shrugged. “That I didn’t even feel it.” She might have said this with a challenging air, but he’d put her up to it. “It was lighter than a breeze.”

  “Oh, no you won’t.” Josh reached for her and yanked her to him by her waist. In half a second, his mouth was on hers, pressing firmly, and in another half second he was giving her a kiss so imbued with passion, she succumbed and was kissing him, too. His hand slid up and down her back, and she was pressed up against his warm chest. After she didn’t know how long—ten seconds? A full minute?—Morgan had to pull back just to catch her breath.

  “Whoa there, cowboy.” Holy cannoli. If this was how he faked true love’s kiss, she gulped to think what a sincere one was. “Hold those horses.”

  Josh’s grin pulled to one side. “You can tell them about that one.” And he stalked off, with a serious swagger, leaving Morgan twirling the ruby ring on her finger, and forgetting all about the cold of the night air.

  ***

  A week later, Tory came into the room, squealing. “You got it! You got the interview!”

  Morgan looked up from her cost accounting assignment. Her brain hurt, trying to make everything balance with all the variables and rate changes. Tory was hopping from foot to foot and rubbing her hands together.

  “What interview? The last thing I need is another part-time job.” Veg-Out was demanding her time again in just a few minutes—and she’d barely started these accounting problems. If she flunked out of this semester, after everything she’d been through to enroll, it would be a tragedy on the scale of the Hamlet play Tory was immersed in every day.

  “Amen to that. The Weedeater is enough. Is your skinned knee doing better today?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for the antibiotic ointment. I don’t think it will get infected, after all.” She’d biffed it on the roller skates last night—in front of three cars. Murgatroyd, she’d love to quit that job.

  “Look. This interview could make it so you don’t have to strap on skates and bring someone a deep-fried tofu patty ever again.”

  Now, that was something worth looking into. Morgan snatched the paper from Tory’s hands.

  “I hope you’re not too mad I nominated you.” Tory was biting her nails. She didn’t have many to start with. They could bleed.

  Morgan looked over the letter.

  Congratulations, Victoria Clark. Your nomination of your sister Morgan and her husband Josh Hyatt for the Seagram Scholarship has been reviewed. Mr. Seagram will see them on Friday at noon at his home, 5466 Big Piney Way. Please inform them of this wonderful news. Mr. Seagram looks forward to meeting them.

  “What is this for?”

  “It’s a scholarship—the Seagram Scholarship. And I had no idea the interview would be so quick. He must be itching to give it out.”

  Whatever amount the scholarship was, Morgan needed it. Especially if it was enough to let her quit that job at the drive-in. “That’s great, T
ory. I’m in!”

  “Good, because I have to go meet Hamlet right now and let him know I’m nothing more than Banquo’s ghost as far as he’s concerned. I’ll tell you all the details when I get back—I mean about the breakup, not the scholarship. You know as much as I do about that.”

  Morgan had to leave for work right now, and she had classes all morning tomorrow, but she’d wear her best suit and meet Josh there at noon, if he was available. Please be available.

  She grabbed her phone and texted Josh.

  Morgan: What are you doing at noon tomorrow?

  ***

  Tory didn’t tell Morgan any details when she got back after Hamlet practice because Morgan was gone, stuck in a homework spiral at the Belliston Library on the third floor among the statistics textbooks. How could so many assignments be due this early in the semester? Clarendon College was known for being rigorous, but the senior projects were almost as mind-blowing as Josh’s engagement kiss. Or whatever that occasion was. Did they get married first or engaged first?

  So screwed up.

  Morgan had crawled into bed at two, her mind swirling with numbers and formulas. And then at five-thirty her phone rang.

  “Morgan, it’s Carl.” Her manager from Veg-Out. How could he? At this hour? When she’d worked forty-five hours this week already? “Can you get down here? Javier called in sick, and I don’t have anyone to run the meals for the breakfast crowd.”

  “Carl, I’ve got an early class. Eight o’clock.”

  “I can get someone in by then. Can you just come in?”

  “You’ll pay me overtime.” It was an empty threat.

  “You know I can’t do that.” The franchise rules forbade it.

  “Make sure I get good tips, then.” As if. For some reason, the morning crowd never tipped. This was so depressing. There was only time to shower, but not do her hair. She had to stick it in a messy, wet bun and get in there before the doors opened at six.

  What if she’d said no? She should have said no. Her truck started with a snort, and then it lurched out of the gravel parking lot toward the beach.

  Dang it. She forgot her skates. Well, Carl would have to deal with that.

  Two hours, sixty-eight cups of organic coffee and nineteen veggie-sausage muffins later, Javier rolled in.

  “You look rested.” Morgan had to get in the jab. Javier hated the early shift.

  “You look like fertilizer.”

  “Thanks.” This job. If she didn’t have to have it to survive, she’d tell them all where they could stuff it—right in their stuffed bell peppers. “I have class. Here’s the order list.” She stuffed everything in Javier’s hands and untied her white pinafore apron.

  “Who’s that guy checking you out at the door?” Javier aimed a thumb over his shoulder. “Not that most of the customers don’t check you out, but he looks like a meat-eater to me.” Javier was a True Believer and claimed he could determine a non-vegan on sight.

  Morgan was in a hurry to get to class (and redo her hair in the truck), but she shot a glance the guy’s way.

  “Josh,” she semi-gasped.

  “So you know him?”

  “Yeah, that’s my, uh. Yeah.” She wasn’t sure Javier deserved to know, and it would take forever to explain, time she didn’t have this morning. She went over to where Josh stood at the door.

  “I wanted to see what this place was.” He gave the place a cursory once-over. “And ask what’s going on today.”

  “It’s not much, but it pays the bills.” Sort of. “I don’t actually know about today. My sister nominated me for a scholarship, and I guess you’re supposed to be there.”

  Josh nodded. “Okay. And this scholarship is called…?”

  “Seagram? Have you heard of that?”

  Josh cocked his head to the side.

  “Me, neither. I never had any scholarship but my academic one before, but dang, honestly, I need one.” She pulled him outside into the morning air. There was a general cloud-up, like most mornings on the coast. “This place is killing my grades. It won’t matter that we paid our tuition if I flunk out.”

  Josh nodded gravely. “Actually, I have heard of Seagram, if it’s Sigmund Seagram. He might be a media guy with a lot of other company spinoffs. I’ve heard Bronco mention him, but not with praise.”

  “Okay.” Something about the situation was bothering him, it seemed. “What else do you know?”

  “That Bronco’s non-endorsement of a man means very little to me. Wait a sec. I’m looking this Seagram guy up.” His mind went down the rabbit hole of his phone while Morgan tugged her hair out of the bun, trying to fix it before class. Seeing Josh research the scholarship made Morgan feel guilty for not doing so herself. If she was going to ask a guy for money, the least she could have done was find out a little about the scholarship, or the man who was offering it.

  “And?”

  “And, Morgan? It’s for a hundred thousand dollars.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Morgan looked like she was going to need something to hold onto, so Josh grabbed her elbow and steadied her. She looked up at him with those blue eyes full of…something. He wasn’t sure what. It might have been fear. But it might also have been relief or hope or something. This waitressing job was weighing her down, he could tell. She looked almost haggard this morning, her eyes a little dark beneath, worry lines around her mouth.

  “A hundred thousand dollars?” She gulped. He nodded back. “And what, exactly, is it for? Who? How did I, or we, qualify for an interview?”

  Josh might as well spill the news to her, good or not. “If it’s the scholarship I think it is, it’s specifically for newlywed couples who are both in school and within one or two years of finishing their programs.”

  “But, Josh. Do we really qualify? That’s just getting us in deeper and deeper, isn’t it?” Morgan sounded nervous. “Isn’t it?”

  Josh closed his eyes. “We got the interview. If we don’t show up for it, there’d be reason for suspicion later when we annul. Maybe it’s better that we go.” It was a weak argument, but he had to make it—and in no uncertain terms. It was for her own good, no doubt in his mind. One glance toward the doors of Veg-Out, and a near brush with a roller skating waiter with a huge, curly afro of light brown hair, compelled him to it. Morgan could not keep working here, not for as many hours as they apparently demanded. She was too close to her goal to throw it away for a portobello mushroom burger and sweet potato fries with vegan ketchup.

  Morgan sighed. “Look, I’ll be honest. I’m exhausted. I’m not doing my most spectacular thinking right now. If you say we have to go, I’m just going to trust you. But if this goes south, remember, you’re the one who dragged me into it.”

  “There’s very little chance of our getting it. There are many more-deserving couples, I’m sure.” As he said this, he considered—the trend for marrying during undergrad was on a severe downturn. Sure, some guys he knew had gotten married during their junior or senior years, but most had waited, or were still playing the field, or were living with their girlfriends. There might not actually be that many applicants for Seagram’s scholarship.

  It was a risk. He looked down at Morgan, at how tired she looked. “Should we meet there, or should I pick you up?”

  “Pick me up, I guess. It will look better if we arrive together. And I’ll bring you my father’s wedding band so you look as married as I do.”

  “Right.” He agreed. She wasn’t completely brain dead, no matter how tired this place had obviously made her.

  ***

  Just before noon, Josh and Morgan rolled through the enormous iron-gated driveway of Siggy Seagram’s mansion on the highest hill of Starry Point. It overlooked the evergreen forests and had a view of the big, solitary Haystack Rock landmark down on the beach. At low tide, there was a causeway to it, and Josh had walked out there a few times during his earlier enrollment at Clarendon. What a great view.

  Morgan must have thought so, too, because
she tugged at his arm, not letting him get out of the car. “Wait just a sec.” From inside her purse she pulled something small and pressed it into Josh’s hand. “It was my dad’s.”

  Her dad’s? So her dad wasn’t alive? Josh gulped. He couldn’t take this. “Morgan, I—” He stopped himself and slid the ring on his finger. If she wore his mother’s ring, he could wear her dad’s.

  “Nice view, eh?” A man’s voice came bellowing, interrupting their moment. “You should see it in December. If I get my binoculars out, I can see the whales as they migrate past. I’ll invite you up here to see them if you’d like.”

  Josh turned to shake his hand.

  “Sigmund Seagram.” The guy’s voice matched his size. He was a jolly giant. A bearded guy who looked like he should be holding a big beer stein and singing a drinking song in German. Germany. Josh’s thoughts shot to Brielle. He hadn’t thought about her once today. And now, here she loomed up, almost scary in his mind—scary because Josh suspected how much she would disapprove of what he was doing here at Seagram’s place today. He needed a drink from a stein himself.

  “Nice to meet you.” Morgan at least had some presence of mind. She extended her hand and smiled at him. Seagram looked taken with the sweetness of that smile.

  “Come in. Come in! I have a lunch prepared. I hope you like salmon.”

  Josh loved salmon. It looked like Morgan did, too. Her blue eyes had lit up. Brielle hated all seafood. But—he wasn’t going to start comparing or contrasting Brielle and Morgan. It wasn’t fair to either of them. And it definitely wasn’t healthy for him.

  Focus. He needed to focus. And not get caught. Seagram most likely knew Bronco. Big company presidents were few, and the pond of them was small, at least in Oregon. Word could go like wildfire back to Josh’s dad and whole family if there was any kind of hint that this marriage was not in earnest. Bronco, Josh had no doubt, wouldn’t hesitate to notify the authorities and have Josh prosecuted for fraud.

  Seagram’s house loomed large, almost as large as Hyatt Place, which was what Bronco had named the house Josh had lived in as a teenager. He’d built it for Mom, but Mom only lived a few months in it. And it was against her will. She’d wanted to die in the little three-bedroom tract house Josh grew up in. Bronco would have none of it. His wife deserved a mansion—even if what she wanted was a cottage home.