It's Holy Matrimony, Baby_The Casey Brothers Series

by Misti Murphy

  I hug my new-found vinyl close to my chest, careful not to bend it. “Will they mind me taking this with me when I haven’t paid for it yet?”

  The door opens, and a kid walks into the store. Well, if you can call a six-foot beanpole shoving half a double decker sandwich in his mouth in one bite a kid. He looks to be between sixteen and twenty, but I’m betting he’s closer to sixteen with that peach fuzz he’s sporting on his top lip. Over his shoulder he carries a knapsack, and a black guitar case swings from his fingers. “Sorry I’m late, Nox. Training ran overtime.”

  I smile at the kid when he swings his gaze my way, his whole head turning in my direction. Curiosity, and a little unwanted appreciation show in his brown eyes for the couple of seconds before he focuses on his teacher.

  “That’s all right, West.” Nox says as the kid approaches.

  “You can cut my lesson short if it helps.”

  “It’s fine, really,” Nox reassures him. “I’m running late myself. Let me introduce you to my...”

  Oh please no. Don’t introduce me as your wife. Don’t make it awkward for yourself. Don’t make it so you have to explain the hows and whys when we divorce as soon as possible. At least not with this kid. “Friend. I’m Nox’s friend, Beck. It’s nice to meet you, West.”

  “You too.” He clings to that guitar case with both hands.

  “Okay, well, we should head back and get started.” Nox turns and walks to the wall of booths. They’re old school individual rooms for listening to music that sort of remind me of British telephone boxes. “You can bring your vinyl, Beck.”

  “If you’re sure.” I hurry after him and West. He opens a door at the other end of the booths and holds it open, inviting us to walk in first.

  “Nice covering,” he says as he closes the door behind me. West is already at the top of the stairs.

  “You’re welcome,” I whisper while I wait for him to go ahead of me.

  Glancing over his shoulder as he jogs up the stairs, he says, “That’s another thing we’ll have to talk about.”

  West is set up when I enter the room. His Fender Strat is plugged in and he’s tuning it. Another stool is opposite his and more than a dozen guitars hang on the closest wall. It takes my breath away. “Is that a Les Paul standard 59? And is that an original Telecaster? These are beautiful.”

  “Aren’t they?” West agrees, grinning. “They don’t get played enough though.”

  “Okay, come on. I have another lesson after you.” Nox props himself on the empty stool and rests his palms on his thighs. “So we better get a move on.”

  Are these all Nox’s guitars? He said he used to play. I just didn’t imagine...but he is Dalton Casey’s son. And he does have great hands. His fingering skills must be exceptional. Oh God, they were exceptional. “I should leave you to it. I still need to make that phone call.” I back up. “And pay for the record.”

  “Tell Lou when she pops her head up from wherever she was hiding, that you want a Casey special.”

  “A Casey special?”

  He grins. “Trust me on this.”

  “Okay.” It’s hard not to smile back. His grin is contagious.

  “How’d you do with that Chilli Peppers song you were talking about last week?” He turns his attention back to West.

  “It’s coming along,” West says as I turn and start down the stairs.

  By the time I reach the door that leads back into the store he’s playing in earnest. Inside the store is quiet. The upstairs must be sound proofed. I take my Violent Nation album to the register and lay it down on the counter, but there’s no one around. Lou, whoever she is, doesn’t pop out from behind the counter or the room off to the side.

  Pulling my phone out of my bag, I call my lawyer while I wander toward the windows that overlook the street. Please let it be possible for me to get out of this marriage with a simple confession.

  According to my lawyer, it could be that easy. Almost. If I can prove that I was coerced into marrying this guy and find a judge to void the whole wedding. The confession would help a lot. Especially if I can get Nox to go into detail. And my lawyer might know the judge to help me. It could be almost pain free.

  “Oh, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

  I turn to face the woman as she dumps a heavy carton on the counter. “You must be Lou.”

  “I am.” She dusts her hands off on her black pants, her dark ponytail bouncing with the rapid movement. “I’m sorry. We’re not actually open for this evening yet.”

  I glance over my shoulder and the sign on the door reads open, which means that it must say closed on the other side. Approaching her, I drop my phone back into my bag. “I came in with Nox.”

  “You must be Beck.” She smiles, her blue eyes brightening. “Jack told me about you this morning.”

  “Jack?”

  “He sometimes works at the hotel as a bartender.” She moves around the counter to the nearest booth. Reaching between it and the café case she does something and then places her hands on the front of the booth. The booth begins to roll back. “Would you mind giving me a hand? I need to get everything set up.”

  “Sure.” The whole row is on wheels, which I didn’t notice before, and it glides across the wooden floorboards, opening up a huge backroom with a bar and a stage.

  “We usually leave all this open, but we’re expecting a crowd, so I needed to move the furniture into the storage room.”

  “This place is...” I don’t have the words to describe it.

  Grinning, she rests her hands on her hips. “It’s Mayhem. Completely crazy. But it works.”

  “Hence the name?”

  “Exactly.” She nods. “Coffee?”

  “Please.” I follow her back into the storefront.

  “How do you take your poison?” She starts setting up the coffee machine.

  “Nox said I should ask for the Casey special. I don’t know if that pertained to coffee or—”

  Lou laughs heartily. “Double espresso with two shots of coffee liqueur and cream. I can make you one if you want.”

  “I think I’ll stick to that.” I glance to where black liquid is dripping from the machine into a cup.

  “Okay.” She joins me at the register and notices the album. “Violent Nation, huh?”

  I trace the signed label with my fingertips. “I have a soft spot.”

  “I get it,” she says.

  “Can I get that Sophie Valentine too? I’ve never seen that cover before. Nox told me a story earlier about Sophie and a boy. Do you think he’s the mystery man?”

  She snaps open a bag and carefully slides my Violent Nation album into it before handing it to me. “It’s on the house. Casey special discount. But I can’t give you the Sophie.”

  I reach for my wallet. “I wouldn’t expect—”

  “No. I mean it’s not for sale.” She moves to the coffee machine now that it’s stopped dripping.

  “Oh.” Damn it. I doubt I’ll ever come across the same CD again.

  “But you can listen to it. In one of the booths.” She finishes my coffee and puts it down between us. “I can put it on for you and you can listen for as long as you like.”

  She comes around the counter and leads me to the first booth where she puts the CD on. “Just make yourself comfortable. Nox will be a while.”

  I nod to her as she leaves the booth and then I pick up the headphones that hang on a hook on the back wall. The music instantly soothes my nerves. I take my bag off and sit on the floor, letting Sophie’s voice wash over me. What a mess. Getting divorced was something I never thought I would have to worry about. And now I have a man who for whatever reason refuses to be amiable. A lost ring. And only a short while to make it all go away.

  What a mess I’m in.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  You may kiss your bride.

  Unless your bride hates you.

  Or is mentally unstable.

  Or has no idea how you ended up married in the firs
t place.

  NOX

  Beck’s sitting on the floor of the booth, bare legs stretched out and eyes closed. An empty coffee cup sits beside her right hip. She hums softly to herself, headphones covering her ears. The tune is as familiar and sweet as an old friend. Bars and beats. A story from summers long gone.

  Careful not to disturb her, I close the door to the booth and drop to the floor. The booths aren’t that big, but I rest my back against the opposite wall and stretch out as much as possible while I pick up the second set of headphones and put them on.

  Sophie could always sing the hell out of a song, turn lyrics into magic. We’d worked so hard to get this one spot-on. Her voice and my words. It was never quite perfect though. Couldn’t get it right. And then she was gone, and so was I. Both of us on the road, on tour. Sophie with her brother, me with my band. Fuck, those were some crazy times.

  The last notes of the song disappear quietly. Another replaces it. It’s been a decade since the last time my fingers worked this particular piece, but I remember it like it’s imbedded in my muscles. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the wall and let the words float in my mind, like they’re scrolling across a screen. Can’t believe the shit I used to string together. Couldn’t do it now. Wouldn’t know where to begin.

  Life didn’t give me lemons. It gave me fucking oranges. And no matter how much tequila I choose to throw back, there’s no damn sunrise to go with it. Just more bullshit. Like the girl opposite me.

  She’s damned beautiful. Especially when she smiles. Her soul practically shines. But she acts like a bona fide princess too, and girls like her never consider their impact. Or they do, which is worse. Like Lena did when she started pushing to get married, so she could get her hands on my assets. Can’t believe I almost gave in to her. I proposed to her. Almost let her set a date. If I hadn’t caught her sleeping with her boss... I would never have had mom’s ring on me when I met Beck. I’d never have married her that night in Vegas. When she smiled at me I wouldn’t have taken that seat beside her. When she suggested we go out and have fun, I would have told her I needed to go back to my hotel room. And I would never have put my hands on her when she told me she wanted me to kiss her either.

  Beck’s not Lena. She’s different. This whole situation is different. Beck’s my angel. Unwilling and unwitting, she’s still going to be my saving grace. This deal with Liv is going to fix everything. Three months is nothing. Not when I’ll finally be able to put this shit behind me. Not when it means Finn and Dean and Jack can stop paying for my mistakes. Three months with Beck isn’t a hardship either. She’s gorgeous, sweet when she’s not being dramatic. We connected in a way that I haven’t been able to put out of my head since.

  Something warm flutters across my forehead. Her breath. I open my eyes. She’s crouched over me, one hand on the wall near my shoulder, the other close to my opposite ear. She’s not touching me, but we’re near enough that I can see her pupils dilate and the creases in her bottom lip. Raising my hand, I graze her cheek. Silky skin blushes under my touch.

  I haven’t forgotten our night together, haven’t forgotten one single detail.

  The tip of her tongue glosses her lips as they part. My back comes off the wall, bringing us closer, and her fingers skim the top of my jaw. I swallow the spit that pools on my tongue as I watch her eyes widen. My fingers buzz with energy, they twitch with the need to touch her. I exhale slowly and focus on my heartbeat, try to make it quiet. Can’t kiss her. Not what she wants. Focus on the future.

  Plump lips press against mine, and my pulse freezes.

  She pulls away and her gaze must mirror mine. Didn’t mean to do that. Didn’t expect it. It’s not enough. Want more. It stretches between us like a guitar string wound too tight.

  Our lips slam together, moving against each other as her knees hit the carpet beside my hips. My hands find her thighs and slide up to her ass to pull her onto my lap as she opens her mouth for me to deepen the kiss. Her tongue meets mine, as desperate as her grip on my shoulder. She’s a caffeine jolt. Need this.

  Smoothing my palm up her lower back, I grip her neck and explore her sweet mouth. Her hand catches in my hair and knocks the headphones askew, so that I’m lucky enough to catch her needy whimper. She shuffles forward on her knees, as close as she can get, and I get hard from the way she wriggles. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as I nibble her lip. Never met anyone who gets to me like she does. And now she expects me to let her go? And take the blame? When she asked me to marry her?

  Her hands drop to my chest and she pushes away, horrified. “What?”

  “What?”

  “You said I asked you to marry me.” She pulls away fast, standing up and flattening her back against the opposite side of the booth. “I would never, never, ever, ever do that.”

  I pull the headphones from around my neck and hang them back up before grabbing hers from where she dropped them on the floor. What’s her hang up anyway? Why is she so against marriage? “You asked me to tell you how I tricked you into marrying you.”

  “Yes. You tricked me. Isn’t that what you said earlier? You were going to confess.” She glances through the panes of glass in the door.

  Slowly I stand up. There’s not much room in the booth and she’s uncomfortable. Don’t want to make it worse. “I am confessing. You asked me.”

  “No. That can’t be true.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s ridiculous. Marriage is antiquated and stupid. And it never lasts. And… You don’t understand. I just wouldn’t.”

  “Well, you did.” I open the door of the booth and step out. “You found the ring in my pocket while you were trying to...you know.” I scratch the back of my neck as her gaze drops to my groin. Even if she doesn’t remember, she knows. Her hands had been everywhere. All over me, all night. I wanted them there, wanted more. Couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get close enough. “You practically dragged me to the chapel. You bossed the Elvis impersonator around. You kept going on and on and on about how we were going to be the couple that lasted.”

  “W-well, you didn’t have to go along with it.” She follows me out of the booth. “Wasn’t it obvious that I’d drunk too much?”

  “You and me both, babe,” I agree.

  “So you’re telling me that we got smashed and I asked you to marry me?” She wobbles, her face ashen. “And now we’re here, and you’re refusing to get it over with because marriage means something to you?”

  “That’s about the gist of it.” It does mean something to me, just not what she thinks it does. At least not in this situation. I never thought I’d marry someone without loving them first. Never planned to stumble and bumble my way down the aisle, because yeah, marriage means forever. It means loving someone no matter how hard shit gets, and I figured the woman I ended up with would feel that way too. But Beck doesn’t want any of that. Not with me. Not at all. So right now, marriage means saving my father’s legacy and sorting out my life. And that’s enough. It has to be.

  “Unbelievable.” She shakes her head and hugs her bag close, passing me and walking through the store. A couple of Mayhem regulars come in and she ducks around them and out the door.

  “Trust me, she’s going to need a breather,” Lou says, gripping my shoulder and massaging one of the many knots.

  I clench my teeth against the pain, try to relax into my sister’s rough handling. Doesn’t help. Grasping her hand, I take it off my shoulder. “Yeah. Yep. You’re probably right.”

  “And you look like you could use a beer.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Come on, your bride will keep. Have one on me.” She hooks her arm through mine and drags me toward the back part of the store.

  “I’ll fall asleep at your bar,” I warn her.

  “If you do I’ll wake you up.” She nudges me. “You’ll be home with your wife soon. No need to fret.”

  “You’re getting far too much enjoyment out of this,” I grumble as she pushes me o
nto a stool.

  Moving behind the counter, she angles a pint glass while she fills it from the beer tap. “It’s my God given right as your sister to take full advantage of your discomfort.”

  I take it from her hand before she can place it in front of me. “You know why I’m doing this?”

  “Of course.” She pats my wrist with a sympathetic smile. “Jack told me. You’re a good brother, Nox. I know you haven’t had much reason to think so recently, but you are.”

  “Thanks.” I sip my beer. Don’t know how she can say that. I’ve let them down. Cost them too much. Have to do whatever I can to fix it.

  Lou pours herself half a beer. Any minute one of my brothers will walk in for their shift, and she’ll be off the clock. “She seems nice.”

  I jerk my chin. “Couldn’t tell you.”

  She leans on the bar, folds her arms in front of her. “You must have thought something when you married her. After all, that happened long before you cut this deal.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know what I was thinking.” I smirk as I touch my glass to hers. Best not to let her come to the conclusion that there’s something more here than money. Although even the next morning, sober but hungover as shit, I’d wanted to get to know Beck Casey better. A lot better.

  “You boys and your testosterone.” Lou rolls her eyes.

  My attraction to Beck got the better of me. That’s why I kissed her and then spilled my guts. Should have used my head. Been tactful. Kept my confession until we were back at the hotel. Now she’s going to be impossible. If she hasn’t packed her things and taken my one shot of getting my life back on track with her. Sliding the beer to Lou, I stand up. I’m a little unsteady. Didn’t eat today. Not since yesterday morning, but that’s the least of my problems right now. “I better go.”

  “Come on, Beck. Open up.” I slam my palm into her door again. She’s still here. She didn’t check out. That’s something. Don’t know what I would have done if she’d left before I got here. But the room is still in her name, and a key card was waiting for me at the front desk. Don’t want to use it. Not until I have no choice. Don’t want to scare her.