Accidentally On Purpose: An Accidental Marriage Boxset

by Piper Sullivan

  “Am not,” I said the same way I used to when we were kids, just to goad her.

  Her purple painted lips twitched before breaking into a wide smile. “Amber Tremaine ringing any bells?”

  Yeah, it did. “I never told her to get a nose job.”

  “Maybe not, but you did tell her that she’d be the hot friend if her nose wasn’t so big.”

  Dammit, I had said that. In my defense, though, “I was sixteen years old, Mags.”

  She shrugged. “Then maybe it’s time you improve your game, big brother. Insulting grown women only pisses them off.”

  Another good point. “I would if it wasn’t so fun getting a rise out of Trish. She’s uptight as hell. It’s entertaining.”

  “Now that I believe,” she said, voice and expression smug, like she knew something I didn’t. “But you like her. Don’t bother denying it, Mase, I saw the way you smiled at her. All that sexual tension sizzling in the air between the two of you. You totally like her.”

  “No, Mags. What I like is annoying her.”

  She snorted again and shook her head like I was a lost cause. That was just fine with me. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, kid.”

  “Don’t you have work to do around here?” She’d come down to Belle Musique last month after a breakup, claiming she needed a change of scenery and I was happy to have her. Until she started meddling.

  “I do, actually. Three sorority girls from Tulane are coming in to get their Greek letters tattooed on them. A hundred bucks say they’re all getting tramp stamps.”

  “Pass. You take that one.” I had no doubt Mags was right, but I didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with oversexed college girls who pretended to be bad girls, but were really good girls in disguise. “In fact, I think I’ll head out before they get here. Want anything to eat?”

  That evil grin was one I knew well. She’d worn it when she put hair removal cream in my shampoo, and when she left itching powder in all of my sneakers. “Yeah, I think I’ll have that Italian veg sandwich with pesto. It was delicious.”

  “You’re a gremlin.”

  “Love you too. And don’t forget my sandwich,” she called out with a wicked laugh.

  Trish

  A quick look at the pink clock on the wall said it was well past quitting time after another long and busy day.

  My back ached as I removed my apron and headed into the kitchen where all the leftovers for the day sat. Usually I sold them at half price to latecomers before closing. But when there was a lot, I drove them to the women’s shelter two towns over.

  Well, at least I’ll have something for dinner. The worst part of cooking for a living is that I had no energy or creativity to do it at home, especially when it was cooking for one.

  Pathetic.

  The chime over the front door sounded, telling me I’d forgotten to lock it, which meant I’d better not put anything away yet. “Sorry but we’re…closed.” The last word came out on a whisper as I took in my new customers.

  My new superstar customers. Actress Kerry Manes and her mega famous Rockstar boyfriend Crosby, just Crosby, stood in my little shop. Holy friggin’ crap on a biscuit, how did this happen?

  And I was staring with my mouth open. I could hear Aunt Becca now, close your mouth girl before you catch flies. That got me right back to the present and I blinked, shook my head and smiled. “Sorry, I had a mild freakout for a moment. Welcome to La Belle Bean, what can I get for you guys?”

  Crosby smiled indulgently while Kerry looked around at my pristine shop like it had cooties. No, worse, like it had cockroaches. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything gluten and dairy free, would you?”

  I would have loved to say no, just because of Kerry’s diva attitude and that pinched look on her face. But not only did I have a massive crush on Crosby, I was a total fangirl. And because Aunt Becca had drilled southern manners into me from the moment I landed on her doorstep. “If you don’t mind the daily leftovers I have some cupcakes, a donut or two and a few loaves of bread. Oh, I might have a couple vegan sandwiches too.”

  That perked Kerry right up, and her almost award-winning smile flashed bright. “Bless you, woman! I’ll take it all,” she said on a relieved sigh. “I love New Orleans, but I swear this state subsists on butter, sugar and pork.”

  I laughed because she wasn’t wrong. “Anything you don’t like on a sandwich?”

  “Raw onions,” they both said at the same time, sharing a smile so hot the shop windows started to fog up.

  “All right. Have a seat and I’ll box it all up for you.” It took about ten minutes to whip up a few sandwiches, for the biggest rock star in the world and his girlfriend. “Okay, that’s all the rest of the gluten and dairy free product for the day.” I gave them the total and Crosby froze.

  “Is this some quid pro quo for an autograph?” His voice was hard, not like the smile he seemed to wear so casually.

  “No,” I sighed, suddenly feeling deflated and thinking about that old saying about meeting your idols. But I shook it off and wiped the smile off my face. “All daily leftovers come at a discounted price, but if it makes you feel better I can charge you full price.” They could afford it, after all.

  “No, thank you,” Kerry offered with her billboard perfect smile.

  “Welcome to Belle Musique.” As soon as they were gone, I wiped down the counters and locked up, tired and ready to relax on my sofa. It was a short walk home, even if I took the detour to avoid Mason’s shop, Ink Stain. It wasn’t a big deal to pass the shop, but since we were neighbors I liked to limit our interactions. Our fights.

  “Excuse me, Miss?”

  I knew that voice, had sang along to his songs at least a thousand times, which meant I had to stop. And turn with a tired smile for the famous couple. “Yes?”

  “Can you tell us how to get to Ink Stain? Mason gave us directions, but we went off the path in search of food and now we seem to be lost.” Crosby flashed his platinum smile at me like that would entice me. It wouldn’t, but proper manners dictated that I alter my normal path to make sure they arrived safely.

  “Sure, it’s on my way home. Follow me. No charge,” I told him plainly, and started the walk home. The one I’d taken for the past few years, until about four months ago after Mason and I had our first big fight.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I waved him off, no longer interested. “No need to explain.” And there wasn’t. I understood exactly, even though I’d never been rich or famous. Being female was enough. Men often said or did things that seemed nice or generous at the time, but really they had ulterior motives. Hidden agendas.

  “He really didn’t mean anything by it, Miss.” Kerry, jumping to his defense like a good little girlfriend.

  “My name is Trish, and really, I don’t need an explanation. I’m sure people try to get things from you all the time, this just wasn’t’ one of those times.” Thankfully we crossed the street to the corner building where Ink Stain was located. “Here we are.”

  “Thank you, Trish. Really. You’re a lifesaver.” Kerry gave my arm a squeeze and sent a genuine smile my way.

  “You’re welcome. It was nice to meet you. Both of you.” Mason was approaching the door so I took a step back, waved and hightailed it away from the shop, not stopping until I was inside the little house where I grew up. Putting Mason where he belonged, in my fantasies.

  Not my life.

  Mason

  “Mase! Your new place looks great, even if it’s at the ass end of the world.” Crosby walked in with his movie star girlfriend just a few paces behind him, a wide smile lighting up his face.

  “Yeah, thanks. I figured you two needed to get some more culture in your sad lives.” Over the past couple years Crosby had flown me from LA to New York and back again, refusing to stop anywhere else. Unless it was tropical.

  “I, for one, am glad you did. We spent last night in New Orleans and the place is fuckin’ amazing!” Kerry sat on a
stool, kicking her legs in excitement. “Everything about that place is lively. Musical and just so…alive!”

  “In case you can’t tell, Kerry had a great time last night,” Crosby told me, laughter burning in his eyes. “Incidentally, so did I.”

  Yeah, I just bet he did. These two had been dating for a few years and they still went at it like horny teenagers. “Glad to hear it. You ready to get started or do you need to eat first?”

  “No, I’m good. Kerry found a bakery with, can you believe it, gluten free pastries!” He shuddered as he dropped down in a chair and shook his head. “I’ll wait until we’re done here, then you can help me find some real food. With meat. And cheese.”

  “What? The sandwich is really good. Want a bite? Mason? Babe?”

  “No thanks,” I told Kerry with a hesitant smile.

  “No gluten and no cheese or meat? No thanks, love.” Crosby winked at her and like always, Kerry melted.

  “All right, cut that out. Save all that dirty shit for the hotel room.” Mags emerged from the back with a twenty-one year old wincing from the new hole in her tongue. “Don’t forget to follow the care instructions!”

  The girl tossed a dismissive wave over her shoulder, barely sparing a glance for the famous duo occupying the tattoo shop.

  “Mags, you’re looking well.”

  She flashed a purple pout at Kerry. “Yeah I recently lost about one hundred and eighty pounds of loser.”

  “Good riddance. I never liked that guy.” Kerry shook her head, as she took another bite of her sandwich.

  “You don’t say,” she deadpanned. “Anyway, what’s up with you guys? I mean, besides all that sexed out bliss you’ve got going on.”

  “It’s funny you should mention that, because we have news.” Before I even looked up, I knew what the news would be. Sure enough, Kerry held her hand up in that way women do when they want to show off a brand new engagement ring. “Crosby has finally asked me to marry him.”

  Mags squealed like a little girl and wrapped her arms around Kerry. “It’s about time! I thought he might wait until you were cast with Chris Hemsworth in a movie. Give him a real run for his money, if you know what I’m sayin’.” Just in case we didn’t know what she was saying, Mags thrust graphically until Kerry laughed.

  “Thanks, Magenta. I hope you’ll be able to come.”

  “I’m always up for a party, just tell me when and where.” The women got lost in talk about wedding destinations, and more importantly, honeymoon locales, while I prepped Crosby’s arm to finish off his new sleeve.

  “Congratulations, man. I’m happy for you,” I was pretty sure that marriage wasn’t for me, because I’d never met a woman who made me go all gooey the way Kerry made Crosby, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t pleased for him.

  “Thanks. We were on a beach in Hawaii skinny dipping, and I just asked her. Didn’t even have a ring yet.”

  “Seriously? And she said yes without a ring?” I didn’t know much about proposals, but I thought a ring was a necessity right?

  “What can I say, the woman is gone over me.”

  I laughed. “You cocky bastard.” He wasn’t wrong, though. Together they generated more heat than a porno.

  “Ask Mason, he has something going on with her, but he won’t admit to it.” I froze at Mag’s words and glared up at her.

  “What are you saying over there?”

  Mags flashed a much too innocent smile for the devil I knew her to be. “Oh, nothing much. Kerry was just telling me about the spitfire at the bakery.”

  “And,” Kerry added, mischief shining in her eyes. “That you two have a thing going on. Is that true?”

  “Nope.” Without another word, I went back to Crosby’s arm, focusing on the details and shadows that would make it pop on camera.

  “Too bad. I liked her. She was all agog at first, tongue-tied by the sight of us, but then Cros went all tough guy on her, and she shut that shit down real quick. No drama, just done.” She smacked her hands together in dramatic fashion. “It was actually kind of amazing to see someone unfriend the rock god in person.” She tossed her head back and laughed while she attacked a donut. “Damn these are yummy!”

  “Very funny,” Crosby grumbled, completely unamused. “You never know with people, and it seemed like a big discount for so much food, especially for a special diet.” His tone told me that Trish had gotten to him.

  “She always sells the day’s leftovers at a discount,” Mags said automatically, practically an expert on all things Belle Musique.

  “That’s exactly what she said,” Crosby groaned unhappily, making the rest of us laugh.

  “Please tell me the rest of her food is this good,” Kerry insisted as she bit into another muffin.

  “Better. I had a donut the other day so good, I swear I came in my pants just a little.”

  “For fuck’s sake Mags, I don’t want or need to hear that.” She laughed and stuck out her tongue at me.

  “What if she did our wedding cake? Then I could enjoy a slice, and the guests will love it without knowing the difference!” Kerry was so excited about it, I knew it was pretty much a done deal.

  Crosby didn’t look convinced, but everyone in this room knew he would give in. Eventually. “Sure, but can we maybe have a real cake too? With butter and eggs and fat. Please?”

  “Men,” she rolled her eyes and tossed the discarded wrappers in the garbage. “He can eat whatever he wants and keeps a six pack, not to mention flawless skin, while I have one bite of pie and gain ten pounds, and get three zits!”

  “Sure honey, get the gluten, dairy free, blah, blah cake. As long as we’re married I don’t care. I’ll just eat real cake off you during the honeymoon.”

  Kerry jumped off her stool with a squeal and ran to Crosby. “Thanks, babe. You can eat anything you want off me.” They kissed for a long time. A really long time, in fact. So long it was starting to get embarrassing. Uncomfortable. Awkward.

  “Oh, break it up!” Mags picked up the squirt bottle, which I had no memory of buying, and aimed right at the happy couple.

  Kerry pulled back with a smile for her fiancé before she looked up at me. “You’ll set it up, Mason?”

  I groaned and Mags laughed. “Fine.” I knew when I was beat.

  Music blared from next door, and I knew there was no way in hell that Trish was having a party, because in the months we’d been neighbors, she’d never had a party. Not one. She barely had any visitors, except for the odd time or two Zeke and Nash’s wives stopped by. So why in the hell was she blaring hip hop music on a Wednesday night?

  Not that it mattered, I just had to walk down my porch, cross the few feet to Trish’s property and climb the five steps that led to her door.

  “Just knock,” I told myself, because for some reason I was feeling hesitant. A quick knock and it was done. Done, except for the fact that the music didn’t die down and the door never opened.

  I knocked again, and still no answer. So I pressed the loud buzzing doorbell. The buzzer combined with heavy, close-fisted knocks produced movement inside. The music dropped about fifteen decibels, and moments later, the door opened. I nearly groaned at the sight of Trish.

  Skin slightly flushed with a few delicate hairs stuck to her face, she wore tiny green shorts that just barely covered the really good parts, and an even tinier white tank top that clung to her tits, and offered the barest hint of nipple peeking through. My mouth went dry as I took in the sight she made, my mind racing with all the possibilities of Trish in that outfit.

  “Earth to Mason,” she said as she waved her hand in front of my face.

  “Can I come in?” My voice sounded gruff, and maybe a little bit angry and hell, maybe I was. Why did she have to answer the door in that?

  “No boys allowed!” Mags’ voice sounded from somewhere in the house.

  Trish’s lips twitched and she stepped back. “Sure. But this is my house, so be nice or get out.”

  “I’m always nice, Cup
cake.” I flashed a wink at her over my shoulder, laughing when she rolled her eyes my way. “Besides, I come bearing good news.”

  “Yeah? You got a personality transplant?” She brushed past me and stood on the other side of the empty space in the living room, hands fisted on her hips while Mags sat cross-legged on the long sofa.

  I bit back a smile at her snarky words, and glanced around the colorful room. It was as colorful as her shop, but in an entirely different way. Gone were the ultra-feminine pastel colors, replaced by bold vibrant jewel tones. “Feng shui?”

  “Dance party,” she shot back, chin tilted up in a dare.

  “You can dance while we talk,” I told her. “I don’t mind.”

  “You first,” she fired back quickly. “I think I have one or two dollar bills lying around.”

  I threw my head back and laughed because the only other option was to close the gap between us and kiss that smirk off her face. But my kid sister was laser focused on us.

  “Better hide the ATM card then, wouldn’t want you going broke once you get a look at all this.”

  Trish rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, which only did delicious things to her tits. And it did very hard, very thick things to my cock. “I’m willing to risk it. If you are.”

  “Oh my god!” Magenta shot off the sofa, waving her arms in the air. “I’m outta here before you two start banging right here on the floor in front of me. Just do it already and put me, and the rest of the town out of our misery!” With that she yanked open the front door, turned to face Trish with a smile. “Thanks for the dance party. Let’s do it again soon.” And then she was gone.

  Trish burst out laughing as she fell back against the sofa, crossing her shapely legs and offering up just a hint of the bottom of her ass cheek. “Your sister is a good time.”