Christine Rimmer - The Maverick's Accidental Bride

Will heard a click when Jordyn opened the bathroom door.

He set the marriage license on the nightstand by his side of the bed and slowly rose, turning to face the woman he’d apparently married the night before.

Jordyn Leigh stood in the doorway. Her big blue eyes had dark shadows beneath them. Her peaches-and-cream skin looked slightly green, and her soft mouth trembled.

She’d put on the complimentary terry-cloth robe that had been hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Her hands were stuck in the pockets, and she kept her head pulled in, like a turtle trying to retreat into its shell. Her wheat-gold hair lay smooth and wavy across her shoulders. She must have used his comb before opening the door and facing him at last.

The sight of all that shining hair made him feel worse than ever. It sent random images of her, scenes from their shared past, sparking and flashing through his brain.

He saw her as a toddler with wispy yellow curls, running through the sprinklers in her front yard, wearing a bright orange bathing suit that tended to sag around her little bottom. And then he saw her in pigtails and busted-out jeans at nine or ten, astride one of the Traub horses.

And the night of her prom...

He couldn’t recall why he’d dropped by the Cates’s place that night, but he did remember Jordyn Leigh, her hand on the banister, slowly descending the front hall stairs, wearing a pink satin dress, her hair piled up high, held in place with sparkling rhinestone clips.

She was such a sweet thing. She deserved so much better than this.

He cleared his throat. “Jordyn, I—”

But she whipped a hand free of a pocket and held it up to him, palm out. “I’m getting dressed right now, Will Clifton,” she muttered through hard-clenched teeth. “I’m getting dressed and going back to the boardinghouse. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never tell a soul about this.”

Okay, he might be a low-down skunk for...whatever had happened last night, but she ought to know him better than that. “Jordyn, I would never—”

“Hush!” She raised her chin high and smacked the air between them with her palm. “Don’t, okay? Just don’t.” And then she gathered the robe closer at the neck. She did that with her left hand. He saw she wore no ring. But before he had time to consider what that might mean, she hunched into herself again and made a beeline for the chair and that blue bridesmaid’s dress.

He moved fast, skirting the end of the bed, to intercept her before she reached the chair. “Jordyn, wait.”

Folding her arms protectively around herself, she glared up at him. “Out of my way, Will.” Her breath smelled of toothpaste.

He felt another stab of mingled guilt and regret as he pictured her brushing her teeth in the bathroom mirror with her finger and a dab of toothpaste, trying to gather her dignity around her, trying to be strong. He told her gently, “Before you go, we need to talk.”

“Talking with you is the last thing I need.” She tried to dodge around him.

But he caught her by the shoulders. “Hey, come on...”

“Let me go, Will.” Her slim arms felt so delicate, so vulnerable, in his grip.

“Damn it, you’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not.”

“Am, too.” She shook all the harder. He wanted to gather her close, but he feared that putting his arms around her would only freak her out all the more.

They had to discuss this reasonably, with cool heads. But she looked so sick and frantic. He was afraid if he sprung the big news that they somehow got married on her right then, she might just drop to the rug in a dead faint.

Or maybe she already knew they were married. Maybe she remembered what had actually happened...

But they would get to that. First, he needed to settle her down, maybe get some food into her.

She jerked in his grip. “Damn you, Will Clifton. You let me go.”

But he didn’t release her. Instead, he turned her and walked her backward to the bed. “I mean it, Jordyn Leigh. You need to sit down before you fall down.” He gave her a gentle push.

And what do you know? Her knees gave out and she sank to the side of the bed. “Oh, dear Lord...” Her fake bravado deserted her. She let her shoulders slump and buried her head in her hands. “Oh, Will. What’s going on? I don’t remember...I don’t...”

“Shh, settle down,” he soothed. “Come on, put your feet up on the bed. Put your head on the pillow. Just, you know, rest a little, take it easy, okay?” Damned if she didn’t do what he said for once. Obedient as the child she kept insisting she wasn’t, she swung her feet up and stretched out. “Good,” he whispered, and pulled up the covers nice and cozy around her. “Water?”

Blue eyes wide and worried, she bit her lip and nodded. He got a bottle of water from the minifridge. She sat up, and he propped the pillows behind her as she sipped.

“I’m thinking aspirin and room service first,” he suggested. “Then we talk.”

She gulped down more water. “Okay,” she said in a tiny voice. “I could use some aspirin. And you’re right. We should probably talk.”

* * *

When the food came, Will served her in the bed.

Jordyn managed to get some dry toast and tea down, along with the aspirin. He moved their clothing from the chair to the sofa in the sitting area. Then he sat in the chair with his tray on his lap, shoveling in eggs, bacon, potatoes and a muffin, along with several cups of excellent Maverick Manor Blend coffee. By the third cup, he was feeling almost human.

Neither of them said much of anything while they ate. She avoided his gaze as she sipped her tea and nibbled her toast.

“Finished?” he asked finally. At her nod, he took her tray and put it with his outside in the hallway. He returned to the chair.

She smoothed her hair, though it didn’t need it. And then fiddled nervously with the sheet. “I don’t even know where to start, Will. I remember the wedding—”

He blinked. “My God. You do?”

She looked at him like he maybe had a screw loose. “You’re kidding? You actually thought I might have blacked out on the fact that Braden Traub and Jenny MacCallum got married yesterday?”

His racing heart slowed. “Uh. Right. Of course you remember that.”

“What? You don’t?”

“Oh, no. I do.”

“Will. You’re acting strangely.”

Yeah, and why wouldn’t he? It was a damn strange situation, after all. He watched as she plucked at the sheet some more. “Tell me what else you remember.”

She straightened the front of the terry-cloth robe and blew out a slow breath. “I remember the reception in the park, or most of it. I think. I remember what happened in the afternoon. I remember us dancing...” She twisted the sheet. “But the later it got, the more it all just becomes one weird, hazy blur.”

A sinister thought occurred to him, and he went ahead and shared it. “Maybe someone put something in your punch.”

She went straight to denial on that idea. “Oh, no. No. I don’t think so. Why would anyone do a thing like that?”

He regarded her patiently. “Why do you think?”

She wrinkled up her nose at him. “Oh, come on.”

“It happens, Jordyn. We all like to think it doesn’t. But what about that smart-ass cowboy in the white hat, the one who danced by and winked at you when we were first standing there at the punch table together?”

“He wasn’t a smart-ass. He was really nice.”

“Seemed like a smart-ass to me,” Will muttered.

But she shook her head. “No. Uh-uh. I don’t believe he would do a thing like that.” She stared off toward the window that looked out over the hotel grounds.