“Oh my gosh!” She pointed to the offending object on his ring finger. “You’re married! I just spent the night with a drunk, married man.”
She pulled her white four-hundred-thread-count shroud tighter around her body, as if she could vanish from the shame and his anonymous wife’s impending wrath.
“What are you talking about?” Drew asked as he picked up a plain white undershirt and pulled it on over his head. “I’m not married.”
“But we did spend the night together. And you’re wearing a wedding ring.”
He squinted his baby blue eyes at his finger, looking truly puzzled by the gleaming jewelry. Then he turned his gaze to her, as if waiting for her to explain the whole situation to him.
Well, good luck with that, Mr. Not Married. She had no idea what was going on. She struggled to get her improvised garment back into position, and her breath caught when she saw what had caught his attention.
“You have one, too.” His tone was casual, lacking any judgment or accusation.
She stared at the matching band on her own ring finger.
For the first time in history, Kylie Chatterson, former pep leader of the Boise State Cheer Team, second runner-up for Miss Idaho USA and current CPA whiz, was at a loss for words.
* * *
Sugar Falls, Idaho: Your destination for true love!
Waking Up Wed
Christy Jeffries
CHRISTY JEFFRIES graduated from the University of California, Irvine, with a degree in criminology and received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mummyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at www.christyjeffries.com.
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To Betty Lou Astleford, a consummate peacemaker who also ran off and got married despite her mother’s warnings that if she married “that man,” he would never be able to afford shoes for her children.
Your strong marriage was a priceless gift to your you bought us to prove your mother wrong. And you really taught me how to splurge on a good pair of shoes. I love you, Momoo.
Contents
Every morning for the first thirty years of her life, Kylie Chatterson had woken up alone.
Until today.
She’d barely rolled over on the hotel’s plush mattress when her sleepy eyes did a double take at the fair-haired, angelic-looking man snuggled up beside her.
Who in the world was he—and how in the world had he gotten here?
His muscular body was chiseled like the marble statue of a Greek god, but this work of art was warmer and much more real. The brutal morning sun intruded through the wide-open curtains she’d obviously neglected to close, shedding unnecessary light on her growing sense of shame.
Kylie held her breath, commanding her body to stay still so her spinning head could add up all the facts.
Fact one. She’d flown to Reno for her friend’s coed bachelor/ette party yesterday. This was definitely the room she’d checked into because her fuchsia cheetah-print suitcase was haphazardly propped on the luggage rack at the foot of the bed. So at least she was where she was supposed to be. That was good.
Fact two. She remembered meeting up with some of the wedding party and having one or two cocktails in the casino bar. She normally didn’t drink much, so it couldn’t have been more than a couple. Could it? She spotted three plastic oversize souvenir cups by the TV stand. That wasn’t so good, but it explained the throbbing at the base of her scalp, her queasy stomach and her lack of memory.
Don’t feel, she commanded herself. Just think and solve the problem.
Fact