Accidentally On Purpose: An Accidental Marriage Boxset

by Piper Sullivan

  Trish wrinkled her nose. “No thanks.”

  “Exactly.” She shook her head at me like I was the one who didn’t get it, and then filled up two boxes with a little of everything, making my mouth water.

  “Magenta loves these,” she said as she held up an Irish cream truffle. “How is she, I haven’t seen her around.”

  Yeah neither had I. For the past few days Magenta had been officially missing in action. Gone when I got home from the station, no matter what time it was, and when I woke up the next day there were no signs she’d even come home. And let’s not forget her habit of not answering or returning phone calls.

  “Me either.” It was a plain and simple answer. One I was sure Trish would understand without all the details.

  Judging by the frown marring her girl-next-door pretty features, she understood completely. “Did you guys have a fight?”

  I sighed and leaned against the counter, jumping back a step at the glare she sent my way. “I might be clueless about some parts of the female brain, but if we had a fight, it’s one of the ones that takes place wholly in a woman’s head.” She didn’t look convinced, and I could admit that I’d spent more than a few hours trying to convince myself. “She’s been basically invisible for the past few days, as in I haven’t set eyes on her at all.” Hell, I had no idea if she’d even been home or not. “Shit, of course!” I needed to call hospitals and police departments in the area.

  “Settle down, Davis.” She laid a gentle hand on top of mine, her voice soft. “If something like that had happened we’d have heard already. Dammit, Mason!” Her small hand smacked the top of the counter with a smack that sounded throughout the café. “She and Mason haven’t been getting along.”

  That was the first I’d heard of it, because unlike every other woman on the planet, my wife wasn’t a sharer. If news didn’t literally and directly impact me, even as her legally wedded husband, she wouldn’t share it. “Really? I always thought they were close.” Then again, that was based on nearly two year old information. “Why, Trish?”

  She shrugged, but even the bright pink Belle Bean polo she wore couldn’t conceal her attempt at nonchalance. I learned the power of a good stare a long time ago, and I used it to pull whatever information Trish was hiding from me out of her. With a big exaggerated sigh, and an eye-roll just to let me know I was getting on her nerves, she set those big blue eyes on me and smiled.

  “Join me in back for a sandwich?”

  I frowned. Was I reading this situation wrong? Maybe she wasn’t the sweet little baker I thought she was. “I don’t have time.”

  Trish’s scowl turned into a big blossoming grin right before she burst out laughing. “God, the look on your face. I’m not hitting on you dummy, I’m trying to give you and Mags some privacy.”

  With a short nod I followed her to the kitchen where she pulled a chair up to one of those ice cold stainless steel tables for me and pulled out two sandwiches, which she proceeded to dip into some kind of batter two or three times before she dropped it into a deep fryer and set a timer.

  “So?”

  “You’re pretty impatient, anyone ever tell you that?”

  “Nope, never.” I flashed a grin that made her laugh as she stood beside the fryer.

  “Mason and Magenta had a fight a few days ago. About him renting out a room without telling her.” The “again” in that statement went unsaid, because we both knew it didn’t need to be spoken aloud. Trish held up a placating hand. “It wasn’t about you Davis, I swear. It was about what Mason’s negligence meant to her.”

  “That’s gibberish,” I told her with a disbelieving laugh-snort. It sounded like the kind of crap women said to make a guy feel better about running his wife off.

  “Maybe it sounds that way, but I’m telling you the truth. Do you have any siblings, Davis?”

  “Had a sister, she died of leukaemia when she was nine.”

  “Oh Davis, I’m so sorry to hear that. It must’ve been tough for you.”

  It was tougher than anyone even knew, being the forgotten child of parents with a gravely sick child. “Thanks Trish, but it was a long time ago.”

  “Time is relative when it comes to those kinds of hurts. Trust me,” she said and launched into a long and complicated story about Mason and Magenta’s past. Their dad was a guitarist who split his time between various studios around the country, and touring with rock bands both known and unknown. Their mother, an artist, who went wherever the mood took her to find her inspiration. “That left Mason to look after Magenta. A lot. From what I can tell she idolized Mason, even went into the same career as him, but Mags thought they were friends who happened to be related.”

  “And now?”

  She swallowed hard. Nervously. “Now she thinks he was just tolerating her the way he did when they were younger. She thinks she’s here because he’s used to taking care of her.” With the grace of a ballerina Trish removed the sandwiches from the fryer and let them dry.

  That did sound complicated, but it also explained her anger. I’d be pretty pissed to find out my family was just tolerating me. “I wish she would’ve just told me.”

  Trish snorted as she dipped half of each sandwich in chocolate, letting the excess run off a tray. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Magenta isn’t much of a sharer. She’s made friends here, and we love her but Mags is an island. She only shares if we pull it out of her, and only if the burden is too great for her to handle on her own. For Magenta, it’s almost never too great.”

  Her words had me reeling. Even as I bit into the chocolatey cheesy deliciousness of that sandwich, it tasted a little better than sawdust as I thought of Magenta somewhere alone, and worse, feeling alone. I needed to find her.

  “Thanks Trish.” I was on my feet and headed towards the kitchen exit when I remembered my manners. “Hey, that sandwich is incredible. You’ll sell out every day.”

  “Thanks. And before you go running off to find our girl, take these back to our hungry firefighters.”

  I accepted two big boxes, a large pink bag, as well as half a dozen coffees to go. Then I stepped out into the sunshine, walking back to the station as a plan began to form in my head.

  Magenta

  “I’ll let you know when one of our regulars takes off but right now we’re booked up. Try Inkalicious, they always have at least one open chair.”

  The guy with the silver mohawk and two full sleeves gave me a placating smile, like I’d missed his disparaging tone when he spoke of his competitor, Inkalicious.

  I gave him my own condescending smile, because I hated pricks like this guy. “I go to them and your business dries up,” I told him confidently. At his snort I shrugged. “Google Magenta O’Malley, and once you do, then you can go fuck yourself.” With a satisfied smile I walked away, feeling more confident than I should considering this was the third straight day I’d come down to New Orleans in search of a place to ink some skin, and still I had nothing. Less than nothing, in fact. All the shops were full because this was a lively city filled with artists of all stripes, not to mention hordes of college kids, which meant an endless supply of fresh skin to color.

  It also meant there was no room for me. Story of my fucking life. And the frustrating part was the stupid boys club mentality that had been a problem since the early days of my career.

  With no good reason to stay in the city, I hopped in my purple pickup truck and got back on the road to Belle Musique, no closer to leaving the town than when I began this fool’s errand.

  As much as I’d settled into my new life in Belle Musique, it looked like I really would be leaving town. For good. The thought didn’t sit well with me. It never bothered me before, but the thought of leaving this town and the people in it, had me feeling a little heartsick.

  It would go away. It always did. Sometimes it took just a few days to get over missing the old place, and sometimes it took months, but I had a feeling Belle Musique had wormed its way deep into my heart and proba
bly wouldn’t let go. Ever.

  These morose thoughts brought me back to my home. My temporary home. I trudged up the stairs, my legs feeling as heavy as my heart, hoping like hell that Davis was nowhere to be found. As soon as I stepped inside I knew that was a pointless hope. The whole house smelled like food, greasy and fatty fried foods that had my mouth watering instantly.

  But not as much as the sight of Davis wearing jeans with no shoes or shirt, a flowered apron covering his front, but leaving his sculpted back on full display. Full delicious, masculine display.

  “What are you doing?”

  He turned wearing a bright, happy smile. Like he was happy to see me. “Cooking. What does it look like?” He walked over to me and dropped a kiss on my cheek like we were a real couple who greeted each other with open affection. “Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”

  Wasn’t that just like Davis? To ask a question guaranteed to piss me off, and then soften it with something sweet. He wasn’t Mason, but I was avoiding him as if he was, and that wasn’t fair. Neither was the way his softly spoken words made me feel. “You’ve gone nearly two years without me, Davis.”

  “I missed you all that time too. But a little bit of Magenta always makes me want more.” His blue eyes went all soft and sexy, dammit, and I knew he was telling the truth. Before I could respond, Davis grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the table in the formal dining room Mason never used. “You’re here just in time.”

  “Just in time for what?”

  “Dinner.” He flashed a boyish smile and stepped aside to reveal a table loaded up with all of my favorite foods.

  “You don’t have to cook for me, Davis. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” I didn’t mean to sound so bitchy, but I wasn’t used to all of this. It felt…excessive somehow.

  “I know that Mags.” He heaved a sigh, but flashed a small affectionate smile that I felt down to my toes. “I was hoping you’d be home today and we could eat together. Chill and maybe drink too much.”

  The sincerity in his eyes nearly made my knees buckle, but it was the wild wisps of blond curls that did me in. “Maybe fool around too?” That was more my speed.

  Davis arched a brow even as his lips twitched with a smile. “I’m not that kind of guy, Mags but you are welcome to try and seduce me.”

  Seduction sounded like a pretty good distraction right about now. But my thoughts must have shown on my face, because he took a step back and gripped my shoulders, turning me towards the table.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Chili fry nachos, fully loaded.” I could hear the pride in his voice, but my mind was focused on all the food in front of me. I couldn’t actually remember eating lunch today. “Buffalo chicken poppers, and extra guacamole too.”

  With a smile I turned and looked up at Davis, so sweet and so beautiful. Too beautiful for me. “Thank you, Davis. This all looks incredible, but isn’t this terrible for a firefighter’s diet?”

  His laugh came out loud and deep, rich and so full of life, I found my lips curling up into a smile too. That’s what attracted me to Davis from the start, his ability to laugh at himself and letting nothing get him down. The truth was I admired that about him too.

  “You have any idea how many calories I burn in a day? The upside to all that hard work is that I can eat just about anything I want. Sometimes.” I arched a brow at the man who ate like competing Olympian most days, with his brown rice, grilled salmon and asparagus spears. “Okay, I do try to eat healthy foods like salads and lean proteins, but I can eat what I want. I just choose to eat healthy.”

  And it showed over every peak and valley of his masculine physique. “I know,” I pouted. “It’s one of your worst qualities.”

  He laughed again and pulled out a chair for me, encouraging me to sit. “I’m just glad you think I have a few good ones.” His laughter sounded as he went back to the kitchen, returning quickly with a bucket of beers from Zeke’s place and his phone.

  “You have mostly good qualities,” I told him honestly.

  “This night is getting better and better.” He leaned forward with a wide flirtatious grin. “Tell me about all these good qualities,” he asked and stroked his jaw for comedic effect.

  “Fishing for compliments, Davis? So unlike you.” Yeah, I was stalling, because the last thing I wanted to do was open up to Davis or compliment him, especially when I planned to leave. Soon.

  “Not fishing exactly, just trying to figure out what about me has you running away with the wind at your back.”

  He deserved to know why I was running. Not from him exactly, but I could see how that was his perspective. “You’re kind and funny, sweet. Sexy. I have no problem with you, Davis.”

  “Well that’s something, isn’t it?” He smiled and I smiled back, the moment was charged with sensuality. Heat. Desire. But still, Davis grinned, letting the heat of his gaze sear my skin down to the bone. “How have you been, Mags?”

  “I’ve been better, Davis, how about you? Settling in at the firehouse all right?”

  “Yep. The guys are great, which is good since we basically live together a few days every week. My only complaint is that most days are dull, except when we act as entertainment for the dirty old ladies in town.”

  That pulled a big laugh from me, because I had no doubt that Aunt Mae was leading the pack of perverted old women in Belle Musique. “Better than wishing for a fire, right?”

  “That’s for damn sure.” We both laughed again, picking up our beers and drinking them slowly. Silently. “Where have you been?”

  “Seeing if I could find a chair in New Orleans.” There was no point lying about it now. He would find out soon enough.

  “No luck?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good.” With a satisfied grin, Davis leaned back in his seat and sipped from the longneck bottle.

  “Thanks,” I told him with a pout that made him smile. “Your support means the world to me.”

  “I support you, Magenta. Always. Is it so wrong that I want you close now that you’re in my life again?”

  It wasn’t bad, not at all. In fact, being wanted by Davis felt better than anything I could remember that didn’t have to do with my career. No one ever looked at me the way he did, like I was equal parts fascinating and amusing and incredible. What woman wouldn’t flourish under that kind of admiration?

  “No, not bad. But it’s not smart. I’m no good for you, because I don’t know how to do this stuff.” That was embarrassing as hell to admit, and I emptied the bottle down my throat to wash down the sting of those words.

  Blond brows furrowed as his smile slowly transformed into a scowl. “I don’t get to decide what, or who is good for me?”

  “Of course you do, dammit. You’re a grown man. But I get to choose who I hurt, and I don’t want to hurt you!” Was the man really so dense that he didn’t get it? “Stop twisting my words.”

  “I’ll stop twisting your words when you stop making decisions for me.” His blue gaze was a challenge, but it also felt like a trap.

  “It’s not about you Davis, it’s about me.”

  “Bullshit. Prove it.”

  “How?” Arms crossed, I waited for the self-serving explanation.

  “Easy. Trish invited us to dinner at her place. Go with me.”

  My head was shaking before he even got the last few words out. “Absolutely not. We are not doing this, pretending to be one big happy family enjoying Sunday dinner. Nope. No way. Not happenin’.” I stabbed at a stray fry nearly bent from the weight of the chili, before scooping into my mouth with more force than was required. “I can’t believe you would try to manipulate me like that. I guess that’s on me for thinking you were a better man.”

  “Jeez Mags, I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

  “Bullshit! What do you call it then?”

  “Asking my wife to have dinner with me.”

  “And my brother, who you know I don’t want to see!”

>   “Actually, I don’t know that.” His words were calm, deliberate as he folded his arms over his massive, still bare, chest. “Because you didn’t tell me anything about the big fight you had with him, or why. You just left Magenta, so how in the hell would I know that?”

  “Why would I bother you with something so unimportant?” Because that’s what it was. “My issues with my brother are no one’s concern but my own, and I’m not concerned so why should you be?”

  “How about, because I care about you?” His words were tired, exhausted and once I again I got that feeling that I always got when I let people get too close. Difficult Magenta.

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “Well I do so what’s the problem?”

  Besides the fact that he was a good man, and I’d probably break his spirit? Nothing at all. “The problem is that I’m not prancing around, pretending to be something we’re not, just because my brother wants me to.” I spent a lot of years trying to please Mason, impress him and make him proud of me. Now that I know it was a pointless effort, I refused to do it again.

  “We are a married couple-,”

  “Yeah a couple who plans to divorce as soon as we can.”

  “But until that time comes, there’s no pretending between us. Right?” I knew making that agreement with him would end up biting me in the ass

  I nodded because I wasn’t a liar. “Yeah, sure. But it would be pretending for me to attend dinner. I really don’t want to see my brother right now.” Or talk to him. Or work with him, which is why I spent the better part of this week searching for work elsewhere.

  “What about Trish? You know she called me brother at the shop the other day? Brother, because she thinks of you as her sister, who she misses.”

  My shoulders sagged in resignation, because we both knew he had me there. I love Trish, she was the sister I’d always wanted growing up, someone I could talk about anything with no matter how humiliating. Someone who gave me the whole truth whether I wanted to hear it or not. Unfortunately she was also Mason’s wife, which meant anything I shared with her, he would also know. God, families were a mess.