Accidentally On Purpose: An Accidental Marriage Boxset

by Piper Sullivan

  I damn near ran back to Mason’s house, not my home, and sent out more emails, duplicate emails. Anything to get the hell out of dodge before this place sucked me in and kept me. Forever.

  Davis

  After a restless night of sleep, I swung my legs around the side of the bed and stood, stretching out stiff muscles in my back and arms. Sleeping without Magenta’s soft curves was an exercise in frustration. The only saving grace was that I knew she was as bad off as I was. Maybe worse if her curt words and evil-eyed glares were any indication over the past couple days.

  I shouldn’t have taunted her, but Magenta made it so very easy. She was sexy as hell when she got all riled up, fire burning in her eyes and skin flushed a fiery shade of pink. It had been all I could do not to drag her back to the bunk-rooms in the firehouse and have my wicked way with her. In hindsight, I’m glad I didn’t. The gauntlet I threw down was so much more effective.

  And entertaining.

  Watching Magenta try to ignore this thing between us was as amusing as it was irritating. She was running as scared today as she’d been seventeen months ago when I wanted to give us a shot. A real shot. She’d been so sure that it couldn’t work, that I let her convince me as well.

  Only now fate had intervened to give us another chance to make a better decision and I wanted it.

  My determination only grew as I made my way downstairs to see that every hard surface in the kitchen, living room and dining room was occupied by cookies. Rows upon rows of cookies, peanut butter, oatmeal cranberry, shortbread, lemon and chocolate chip just as Aunt Mae had requested, and two dozen macadamia and white chocolate chunk cookies. There was no way in hell I was letting down the spooky voodoo priestess with the all knowing eyes.

  Nope, I brought my cookie A game.

  But there was one small problem, I had no way to transport the goodies without breaking them all in half on the four block trip to the community center.

  “Damn.” There’s always one flaw in the plan, and this was a glaring one. I was just happy Magenta wasn’t awake yet to comment on it.

  Then I spotted a sheet of paper with her familiar slanting scrawl sitting in the center of the peanut butter cookies with my name across the front. Picking it up, I held my breath and waited a beat. If this was a letter telling me she took a job in Canada and wouldn’t be back for twelve months, I needed to prepare myself.

  “If only someone had thought about cookie transport…”

  That was it, all the help contained in the note. Oh, and a smirking smiley face that I could have done without. But she was right, neither of us had given a thought to getting the cookies to their destination. Only her note sounded more smug than mocking, which could only mean one thing. Magenta had remembered.

  My feet were on the move, searching every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen for containers. I even checked the drawers too small to hold anything but silverware, one that held the extra serving utensils that didn’t fit on the hanging rack beside the stove, and even one that held several rolls of trash bags. No cookie containers.

  But I wasn’t deterred, because I’d never met a woman who was a bigger smart ass than Magenta, and my girl wouldn’t brag if she didn’t have a good reason. Which meant I needed to keep looking. I started on the top of the split level, going into each room starting with the master suite that still remained unoccupied, and skipping over my room because it was too obvious. I got to the lower level and opened the office door, and I laughed my ass off. Stacked in two neat rows of three, were purple and pink plastic containers, girly as hell, but exactly what I needed to get the job done.

  I kept a goofy grin on my face as I stacked all six containers and carried them into the kitchen, looking at all the cookies and coming up with a plan of attack. These containers were perfectly Magenta, always willing to help, but in her own unique way. I appreciated it, and it didn’t bother me at all that she’d zinged me in the process.

  “I see you got started without me.”

  I looked up at the sound of her voice and paused. Magenta was a woman who did devastating things to a pair of jeans and a plain white tank top. Shapely long legs that crawled up forever before flaring over womanly hips and a narrow waist that only made her impressive chest look even bigger.

  “Damn Mags, you look smokin’ hot.”

  She grinned at me. “Show a little boob, and you’re putty in my hands,” she joked as she stood beside me, scanning the half-packed batches of cookies. “Works perfectly, since I’m here to make sure you don’t eat them, break them or get lost in the process of delivering them.”

  I turned to her and batted my eyelashes. “Aww thanks babe, you do care.”

  She rolled her eyes. “The last thing I want is for Mae to perform the wrong spell and I end up with triplets growing in my belly,” she grumbled.

  I held that tidbit in my mind for another time, and focused on something else she’d said. “You really think I might get lost on my way to the community center?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know what your sense of direction is like, Davis. I’m just here to supervise.”

  “Nice dodge, wifey. What time does this supervised delivery take place?”

  Her gaze darkened, and she pushed her body up against mine. “Why, what are you thinking?” One finger traveled down the center of my chest until it came to a rest on the button of my jeans.

  “I’m wondering if we have time to fool around before we go. Sleeping alone sucks.”

  The sound of Magenta’s laugh transported me back to Vegas when that sound was let loose so freely that I’d become addicted to it. Now she was more subdued, but just as feisty as ever.

  “That’s what happens to husbands who misbehave.”

  I wanted to say something about her finally calling me her husband, but I knew calling attention to it would make her even pricklier, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Maybe you should find another way to punish me, wife.”

  “Maybe I will,” she said mysteriously and took three steps back, hands fisted at the hem of her shirt before she tugged it over her head and tossed it at me. “But you’ll have to catch me first.”

  She sauntered off and I gave her a moment, my gaze still glued to the sway of her ass in those skintight jeans until she disappeared from my view. Then I followed her. Following this woman, who’d been haunting me for more than a year, in that moment it all became clear.

  Magenta.

  I wanted her, and now with her so close, there was no reason we couldn’t have a real shot at happiness.

  Now I just had to convince her of that.

  Magenta

  “Hey Archer, I was starting to think maybe you forgot about me.”

  His call came in about two minutes after my last customer left the shop, and I couldn’t have been happier to hear from him.

  “What do you mean? I sent you like three emails over the past week, and you didn’t respond to any of them. What gives?”

  I frowned at the phone as though Archer were speaking a different language, because I’d been stalking my email like a high school cheerleader waiting to hear back from the quarterback, and so far, nothing. Not one returned email or text message, or even a call. Until now.

  “I have no idea what you mean. I’ve been waiting for somebody, anybody to get back to me with an opening, and my inbox is sitting here as empty as a celebutante’s head.”

  His deep laughter boomed over the line and I smiled, missing my big bearded drinking partner. “Damn, seriously? That’s too bad. When you didn’t respond to the second one, I said yes to Ryan Sterling, you know her?”

  Yeah, I knew her. She was an amazing artist who’d combined her artistic skills with her natural beauty to create a brand that was quickly becoming as high profile as her clients. But Ryan had nothing on me. Except looks, she was way hotter. “Yeah. You won’t be disappointed with her work, that’s for sure.”

  Archer let out another low chuckle. “I know that, I just hope she doesn’t leav
e me with a shop of head-fucked tattoo artists when she goes.” Ryan was also a bit of a man eater. And a woman eater. She had been known to leave broken people in her wake.

  “Too bad you didn’t pick me.”

  “Not for lack of trying, doll, maybe you ought to get one of those computer geeks out there to look at your shit so when you hit me up again in a few months, we’ll actually connect.”

  He had a point. “Shit. Good luck with Ryan, Archer. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

  He grunted a goodbye while I sat there staring into space as I wondered what the hell was wrong with my email. I knew it was something fishy, and I was sure Mae’s sticky fingerprints were all over it. Even though she was known to sometimes either type her password in her FB timeline, or send personal messages in her posts for the whole world to see. Yet, somehow, she’d gotten me good.

  “What’s wrong, Mags?” Mason’s deep voice was thick with worry, and if I wasn’t still so angry with him, I might have been mollified.

  “Nothing.” Things were strained between us like never before, and I knew most of it was on me. But I wasn’t ready to let it all go yet.

  “Mags, come on, don’t lie to me. Be pissed off, yell and scream if you must, but don’t shut me out.” He raked a hand through his thick hair and blew out a long breath. “Please.”

  “It’s nothing, Mason. Don’t worry about it.” More like don’t pretend to care now. But saying all that would have just started another pointless argument. “It’s personal,” I added when he put on his most stubborn older brother look.

  “And?”

  Okay now he was starting to piss me off. “And it’s my problem. I’m not making it your problem, so you don’t need to either!” Shouting wasn’t absolutely necessary, but I was just so frustrated.

  “Is this about that rumor I heard, that you and Davis are married?” Arms crossed over his massive chest, Mason grunted.

  “Nope.” At least that wasn’t a lie.

  “For god’s sake Magenta, how long are you going to punish me? It was a stupid mistake.”

  I snorted at that. At how easy it was for him to downplay what he’d done. “No Mason, I’m not punishing you for simply forgetting about my existence, or worse, not giving a damn about my comfort or safety. You know, your little mistake.” I shook my head. “I’m just giving you the space you clearly need.”

  His scowl darkened. “Who said I wanted space?”

  “You did! God, why else would you move a stranger in without telling me? Or I don’t know, asking me?”

  “It worked out pretty well I’d say!”

  And that was exactly why I was in such a hurry to get the hell out of town. It was humiliating to think I’d been living this fantasy in my head, living and working with my older brother and best friend. Turns out he was just tolerating me, and I never even realized it.

  “You couldn’t have possibly known that,” I told him through clenched teeth. “And that’s not really the point is it? I can take a hint, Mason.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Anger flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by surprise. “Come on, Mags, don’t be difficult.”

  Difficult. I fucking hated that word more than any other in the English language. It was a word people used for people like me, ones who required honesty and gave it back in return. Was that really so much to ask?

  “Don’t worry Mason, I’m not your problem and I won’t be interfering in your precious life!”

  “I don’t think you’re interfering. I should have talked to you first and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

  I believed he was sorry, but that wasn’t enough. “Just tell me why. Why did you think I’d be okay living with a complete stranger with no advance notice?”

  He sighed and blew out a breath. “I thought it’d be easier if you had less time to bitch about it, and less time to try and sabotage him.” His lips twitched and mine did too, because we both knew I would have done it. “But it was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too, Mase. I wish you just would have told me I was cramping your style. I wouldn’t do that to you.” But it was clear that I was the only one who knew that, who saw how much I’d grown over the years. Sure, I was still a wild child, but in a mature, in charge of my own life, kind of way. I made sure that I was the only person affected by my impulsive actions. No one else. Just me. “See you around, Mason.”

  “Wait, Mags!” The anguish in his voice was real, I could hear it, but unlike my brother, I knew what he really felt was guilt.

  “Look, as soon as I find a chair, I’m gone. Until then, stay the hell away from me.”

  Guilt wrapped around me like a cloak, but I was in no mood to be logical or rational. I was angry. Pissed off. Hurt, dammit. I thought I’d dealt with my shit and moved past it, as much as anyone could move past being the forgotten child. The one left to her own devices when she was just a kid, while the rest of the family went about their lives filled with after school sports, piano lessons and the like.

  I thought she was gone, that I’d killed her years ago, and now I was more pissed than ever to realize she wasn’t dead at all, simply in hiding.

  Dammit.

  “I expect an official dinner to welcome Davis to the family!” I couldn’t miss the sound of laughter in his voice even if I tried. But if he thought I would put myself through his attempts at humor at my expense, he was dead ass wrong.

  “Not happening. Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.” I wanted to leave, to run out of the shop and disappear for the rest of the day. Maybe even the rest of the week. But I had appointments all day, and despite what my brother thought of me, I took my business seriously. Deadly serious.

  Everyone thought because I didn’t dream of owning my own tattoo shop, I had no plans beyond being an artist.

  Everyone didn’t know squat.

  I was living my life on my terms, and making a good living doing it. “Your next appointment is here.” Mason poked his head inside the room and grinned. “I’ll go on a lunch run while you’re in here.”

  “No thanks,” I called out, but the jerk was already gone. That was fine with me, I’d just refuse to eat when he brought it back. Even if it was my favorite sandwich.

  My petty level was off the charts, and I planned on keeping it that way.

  Davis

  “Too bad you got the short stick, newbie.”

  I stared at Scott who’d arrived in town exactly forty-eight hours before me, and therefore considered me the newbie and shrugged.

  “Pretty girls are at the Belle Bean, and that always beats looking at your ugly mugs.” Scott smirked because we both knew it wasn’t true. He called himself ruggedly handsome, but we all knew the truth, he was pretty. All the women in town said so. “Plus, it means I get first dibs on everything.”

  Scott groaned along with the other three guys on shift. The rest of the crew was simply on call if they were needed. “Save me one of those croissant donut thingies, and I’ll take a week of cleanup duty.”

  “Done.” That deal was too good to pass up, especially with the duck stew I planned to make next week. “See you in a bit.”

  I rolled my eyes and walked out of the firehouse and into the warm sunny day. I didn’t mind doing the coffee run, not even a little bit. But any hint that I didn’t mind would have me making this run multiple times a week. The truth was, I needed the fresh air and the alone time. Although, you were never really alone in Belle Musique. There was always a few people on the street talking about this and that, and there was no way you could get from one block to the next without running into someone.

  Crossing the street, I realized that I didn’t just not mind stopping every hundred yards or so to have a quick chat about nothing, I was pretty fond of it. Life in this small town had turned out better than I expected, and I knew it was in no small part because of Magenta. But the town was solid. Nosy, but solid. And the guys at the firehouse were great, they were hard workers with pl
enty of experience, so we worked together well.

  Life was good, mostly.

  I barely even minded the old ladies who purposely set fires in their trash cans just to get “Up close and personal to real life firemen”. They were harmless, and probably the only way we’d prove to be worth the cost of funding a fire department.

  Everything was pretty great. Mostly.

  My wife, of course, was determined to never do things the easy way. That meant the past few days had been an exercise in frustration, which was yet another reason I didn’t mind taking a trip to get more sugar than any group of people should ever eat in one sitting.

  “Hey Davis, how are you today?” Trish beamed a smile at me like I was an old friend, which was weird, because I didn’t know her at all other than that she was married to my landlord.

  “Good. How are you?” If possible, her smile grew even wider at the question.

  “Pretty good, been testing out these new dipped French toast sandwiches for a lunch special, so I’m feeling gluttonous, but also drunk off chocolate. How goes the business of fighting fires?”

  “Thankfully slow.” As much as I loved killing a big, burly fire, I hated the devastation it left in its awake. “Tell me more about this chocolate dipped French toast.”

  Trish had a pretty laugh, musical and contagious. “It’s not perfect yet, but it will be.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt. The whole town has good things to say about your baked goods.”

  “But not you?”

  I grinned and leaned on the countertop, enjoying an interaction with a woman who didn’t blatantly ogle me. “They are delicious, but I try not to say anything good about them. Too many calories and one kind word means every woman in town will keep the firehouse stocked in your treats.”

  “And that would be bad?”

  “Hell yeah. Imagine trying to drag your ass into a fire with seventy pounds of gear and an extra fifteen pounds of sugar in your gut.”