Accidentally On Purpose: An Accidental Marriage Boxset

by Piper Sullivan

  “No reason for you to connect them, it’s a common enough name. You heard about this backwoods town and decided it was perfect for you?”

  I scraped a hand over my face and shook my head. “Not exactly. I decided I needed a change of pace, and when this job opening popped up, I figured it was a sign.” That, or I’d lost my edge or my passion for the job which meant I was a threat to my brothers. So I left. “Here I am.”

  I guess he was satisfied with that answer, because Mason nodded once and motioned for me to follow him. “I’ll show you around.” I followed Mason around the California style bungalow with one and a half stories. It was tidy and well lit. Not that it mattered to me since I was just paying rent to have a place to store my crap.

  “This was my office, but I’ve since moved it all next door, where you’ll find me most of the time. With my wife,” he grinned proudly.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. Anyway, this room is up in the air so feel free to use it for whatever. This other room is Magenta’s, so steer clear of it. It might take her a few days to calm down, but she’ll be back.” I wasn’t sure if Mason was trying to convince me or himself, so I kept my thoughts to myself.

  “Your bedroom is up here with a half bath. If you want to use the tub, use the master, or the one on the main floor. The kitchen is that way, you and Mags can figure something out. Trash schedule is on the fridge, along with other stuff you might need.”

  “New to being a landlord?”

  Mason grinned. “Does it show?”

  “Not really. I don’t think so, anyway.”

  “It’s a small town, if you want to know something ask, but the truth is, you probably won’t have to, because gossip travels faster than light here. Enjoy your stay.”

  I swallowed visibly, and Mason laughed. “Why did that sound like a dare?”

  “I’m kidding, this place is great. I mean the old ladies will be all up in your business, but they’ll also come through for you even when you think you don’t need it.”

  I didn’t know what the hell that meant, so I smiled and shrugged. “If you say so.”

  He shook his head at me. “You’ll see. If you need anything, here’s my number and Trish’s.”

  “I met her outside with her friends. Odd girls.”

  “Weird as hell, you can say it. It’s true, but she’s amazing.”

  “They all seem nice, just odd...”

  This time he unleashed the full power of his laugh, the sound booming loud and bouncing off the walls. “That’s a perfect description of this whole crazy town. Nice, but odd.” Still laughing, Mason handed me the keys, each one on the ring labelled carefully, and left me alone in my new place.

  I didn’t waste any time, unpacking my truck and the trailer of my meagre belongings and shoving them all in my room aside from a box of kitchen supplies. I started work the day after tomorrow, which meant I had almost two full days to get settled in, no, to get situated in my new home. My new town.

  Magenta

  Sometimes I found the supermarket a very soothing place. The noises were all consistent, the hum of those machines that clean the floor, the sound of plastic and cardboard being torn open to restock shelves, that for some reason could never be empty. The squeak of the oven door in the bakery, and the constant ding-slide-thunk of the cash register along with the popping gum and low voices of the cashiers. Plus, aisles and aisles of food. What’s not to love?

  “I see you’re finally done sulking.” Aunt Mae’s voice startled me out of my zombie-like stupor.

  “Sulking? Is someone around here sulking, Aunt Mae?” The old woman was crazy as a bat, but she was cool and honest.

  “Don’t try that crap with me, young lady. You’ve been sulking when you should be fighting. Isn’t that what this whole crazy hair and tattoo thing is about, telling everyone how tough you are?” She arched a red brow.

  “I’m not sulking. It’s called making a plan, and it requires privacy.” A full week of privacy holed up inside Billie Jo Kramer’s adorable little plantation style B&B, and I had my next move narrowed down to a few places.

  “So does hiding. Like a coward.” She gave me that deep soul searching look, as if she could see down into the heart of me. “Well?”

  “Well nothing. I’m looking for a place to stay here, or not here.” That was as much of an answer that I could provide at the moment. “See you around, Aunt Mae.”

  “I sure hope so. The catfish is fresh.” She walked off in a breeze of flowery perfume and plumes of fabric.

  Catfish did sound good, but that would mean returning to Mason’s house which I was definitely not prepared to do. But maybe I could borrow Vivi or Maddie’s grill if I bought enough to share?

  If I supply the catfish and corn on the cob, will you supply the grill?

  While I waited for Vivi to respond, I picked up some of my favorite dill pickle potato chips, a few chocolate bars and a bottle of Jameson. Billie Jo was a good cook, but the woman served dinner at seven and by ten-thirty I was hungry again.

  Still hiding out from your roommate? I rolled my eye’s at Vivi’s message.

  Not hiding, plotting my next move. So…catfish?

  Sorry honey. Use the grill at your house. Chicken!

  Why did I think making friends in a small town was a good idea? Sure they refused to let you wallow in sadness, and they talked you off the ledge when necessary, and had your back when you needed to skate right up to the edge. But damn, they didn’t hold anything back. Ever.

  You’re not nice.

  And you’re not so tough.

  I groaned at Vivi’s last message, and shoved the phone in my back pocket. So much for catfish. That’s fine, I’ll just get some sandwich fixings to store in the mini-fridge in my suite. That would be fine. Better than fine, because it would force me to make a decision about where I would go next. Or maybe I would let fate decide. Send out a few inquiries about people with room for a traveling artist, and see what came back to me. Now that was a plan I could get with.

  “Fancy meeting you here.” That voice. Deep and rich, with just a hint of midwestern twang, and smile in every syllable.

  I looked up and my gaze slammed into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. They were layered, like someone had taken discs of every shade of blue in existence and stacked them on top of one another to create that totally unique color.

  “Davis. Not that fancy, since this is the only grocery store in town. Well there’s a brand-new gourmet shop around the corner from High St. Fashions, but you can’t buy kitchen staples there.”

  “You’re nervous,” he accused, sounding half amused.

  “What do I have to be nervous about?” Arms folded with the shopping cart between us, I glared at the big handsome oaf.

  “Nothing.” His lips twitched. Then that smile, the one that had incinerated seven pairs of panties over three days in the desert, spread slowly. Like a wildfire. “Sorry I ran you from your home.”

  “Not my home, my brother’s house. And now yours.” His brows rose in question, silently calling me out. “It really isn’t my home. I was crashing there, and that’s why I was pissed, because the first I’d heard that some strange man was moving in, was about twenty minutes before you got there.”

  Sympathy filled his blue eyes. “Now I’m really sorry. I’ll take your room at the B&B and you can go back. Seriously, its no big deal.”

  “Not necessary. You’ve got all your stuff there, just stay. Besides I think I’m leaving soon.”

  “Not because of me, right?”

  I grinned. I never met a man as honest, or as forthright with his emotions as Davis. It was probably what attracted me to him in the first place. That and those gorgeous blue eyes, that tight ass, and his almost cowboy-like swagger. His looks attracted me, but it was his honesty that kept me around.

  “Not specifically. You, as the strange man who’s now moving into my house, not…you know.”

  “Your ex?” He licked his lips, and
I dug my fingers deep into my palms to stop the moan that wanted to escape, which was goddamn ridiculous. I hadn’t seen this man in seventeen months. Not that anyone was counting or anything, but there was no way he was affecting me like this. Maybe it was hormones.

  “Something like that. See you around, Davis.”

  He frowned. “But not really, because you’re leaving.” Again, sat there unspoken. “Too bad.”

  “Yeah? You feeling nostalgic, Davis?” Because I could be talked into taking another ride on his big, strong body. It was a work of art, and I’m not talking about those beautiful sculptures in the Louvre. Nope, I’m talking about a body that would make those statues come to life, and weep at its perfection. It had been explosive between us. Every. Single. Time. Unbelievably so. Unfairly so.

  “It was magic with us between the sheets, wasn’t it?”

  I nodded. “It was. What are you doing in Belle Musique?”

  “A buddy got injured, and it shook me. I reevaluated, and found a new job. Here.” He grinned, cheeks turning a barely visible shade of pink as he raked a hand through those superhero locks. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “You’ll like it. It’s as small town as it gets, but these people are…good. Better than good.”

  “High praise.” He gave me that look, the one that said he knew when I wasn’t being genuine.

  “Then you should know what that means.”

  “That things will be fine?”

  I shrugged. “Probably.”

  “What about you, Magenta? What will you do?” His gaze held mine in its grasp and wouldn’t let me look away. It was that same intensity I’d found so endearing in Vegas.

  That was the question, wasn’t it? “I will go where the next opportunity opens up.”

  “My little Wanderer, roaming around the world.”

  I’m not ashamed to say that my knees wobbled a little at the affection in his voice when he used the nickname he’d given me that weekend, as we shared stories about our travels.

  “And you’re hanging up your passport.”

  “For now, anyway.”

  “It’ll stick. This town has a way of getting its hooks in you, and making it impossible to leave.”

  He chuckled and dropped a hand on my shoulder. “If that’s the case, you better try very hard to get out, maybe in the dead of night.”

  I couldn’t help the smile that spread at his gravely serious tone. “Breakfast will be better. That’s when everyone is at the diner, or Belle Bean catching up on gossip they missed yesterday.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Thanks for the tip.” I pushed the cart around him, deciding to go ahead and get a couple fillets of catfish. Maybe Billie Jo will let me use her grill. I was feeling hopeful for once, I just hoped it didn’t turn around and bite me in the ass.

  “Good to see you again, Magenta. Really good.”

  My whole body heated at the feel of his gaze on my ass, heavy like a caress. Yeah, I needed to get the hell outta here.

  Fast.

  Davis

  Living in a small town was a trip.

  Everyone knew everyone’s business, which I found out because the whole town had stopped by to offer welcome casseroles, cookies, pies, cakes and the like. Or they stopped me inside the market, the hardware store, even the fire station, to tell me someone else’s business.

  That’s how I’d found out that Magenta had checked into the B&B in town rather than live with me.

  Of course, I knew it wasn’t personal. But it felt pretty personal, and I knew that was because of our previous connection, which thankfully, no one else in this place knew about.

  I did feel bad about running her from her home though, which is why I was out pounding the pavement, running off my frustration. My restlessness. Settling into small town life was harder than I’d imagined, but the guys at the station made the transition easier. They’d all originally come from big city fire houses with plenty of experience fighting fires, and absolutely none when it came to living in a small town.

  So far, we were all…adjusting.

  After about ninety minutes I was beat, drenched in sweat, and my legs were getting close to noodle consistency, which meant it was time to head back home. There was a small lake skirting near the edge of town that had become my favorite place to run because it was quiet, scenic and free of busybodies. The only problem was, it was still two miles from my temporary home.

  The last stretch of the run would have killed me if physical fitness wasn’t a job requirement for the past decade of my life. Daily workouts, lugging fire gear up stairs, up the side of a mountain or rock face, meant I was in excellent shape even when I was beat. Still, nothing had ever felt better than landing on the doorstep, knowing a shower was just a few more feet away.

  Except I had a visitor. Inside the house there was noise, the low hum of a radio, the sizzle of something frying on the stove. Someone was here, and making themselves at home. I sniffed the air, the distinct scent of fish, tomatoes and garlic hit my nose. Hard.

  The sight that greeted me in the kitchen wasn’t unwelcome. Magenta in painted on dark blue denim that cupped her heart-shaped ass as it shook to a hip hop beat and a plain white t-shirt that showed off the ink visible on her arms and back. I smiled as she moved around the kitchen, totally oblivious to the fact that she was no longer alone. The moment was too good, and I couldn’t resist.

  “Honey, I’m home.”

  “Shit!” The wooden spoon dropped from her hands, and she sat the bowl down harder than she needed to, sending a plume of cornmeal, herbs and spices up in the air. “Dammit Davis, don’t do that!”

  Her frustrated tone made me laugh. “I thought I was living here alone.” Not that I minded her return, the opposite really, now that those gorgeous tits were aimed at me with beaded tips that I knew were the color of wild strawberries.

  Her shoulders fell. “I know, and it couldn’t be helped. A reality TV couple is interested in booking my suite at the B&B. I know the owner would love the exposure, so, here I am. Don’t worry, this is temporary Davis.”

  “Don’t leave on my account. It’s nice to have someone familiar to talk to.”

  Arms folded in defiance, Magenta’s green gaze narrowed to slits. “I don’t remember us doing all that much talking.” Her voice was a challenge, but I could see she really believed that.

  “Really? Because I remember you telling me all about this kooky town that you hadn’t even visited yet. Your brief attempt into the New York art world. Your apprenticeship with a German tattoo artist who refused to speak English.” And there it was, that flash of surprise mixed with delight.

  “Maybe I just have a better memory.” With a shrug I pushed off the wall and got in her face, smiling.

  “Doubtful old man. There’s enough fish to share if you’re hungry.” It was as close to a concession as I’d get from her with our clothes still on, and for now it was good enough.

  “I’m always hungry Magenta.” She licked her lips and I had to bite back a groan. Thankfully she turned to flip the fish, which gave me a moment to get my shit together. “In fact, I’m starved.”

  She sucked in a breath and turned back to me, arms crossed in annoyance and protection. Again. “Go wash the stink of sweat off you then.”

  That’s what her lips said, but her eyes said she was thinking about licking this stink right off me, and we both knew I’d let her.

  But until my tough girl remembered who she was dealing with, I was happy to tease her as much her gaze teased me. Those eyes tracked the movement of my hands as I lifted the hem of my t-shirt higher and higher, until it was in a ball in my hands. “My eyes are up here, Magenta.”

  The tease, her gaze traced over every muscle in my abdomen before taking turns eye fucking my chest and pecs. Her tongue slicked across her lips again, slowly before her gaze met mine.

  “Looking people in the eye is an overrated tradition. Especially when you’ve got all this on display. I’m
just admiring your hard work. You’re welcome.”

  That was what I liked most about Magenta, her honesty. I had no doubt she thought looking people in the eye was overrated, because her artist’s eye could find beauty in the mundane. But the way she wrapped a compliment, so it didn’t really seem like one, was more endearing than it should have been.

  “I’m, uh, going to take a quick shower.”

  “Thanks for the visual,” she said blandly. “Be back in ten minutes, or I start without you.”

  “I’ve heard that before.” She sucked in a breath at the mention of that particular memory of another time, when she said those exact words to me in another context. Even now, I could use the memory of what came next to get me off in under a minute. But not today, not when I had the real life, living breathing thing under the same roof. “Miss me?”

  She looked up from the pot of spaghetti she was adding fresh parsley to and arched a brow. “Seven minutes. Better than last time.”

  “That was a strategic decision that I think we both benefitted from.”

  “Get drinks.” Magenta rolled her eyes, but her pale skin did nothing to hide her every emotion, especially when she blushed a pretty shade of pink. “There’s vodka in the freezer.”

  “There’s no orange juice.”

  She frowned at me. “Because no kids live here. There are oranges in the fruit bowl.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was screwing with me or not. “For the vodka, Magenta.”

  She frowned again, this time adding a healthy look that said, are you an idiot. “It’s cold, Davis. What else do you need?” She sighed and looked around the kitchen. “There’s tonic and limes if you want.” I almost believed her. She would’ve gotten me, if not for that tiny twitch at the right corner of her mouth.