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Carmen brought me two pain-reliever tablets and a glass of water. All three went down the hatch in record time. I was definitely grateful for both, though, so I made sure to thank him. I wasn’t usually so bitchy to people and considered trying a little harder to be kinder to the guy.
When he went around to the other side of the bed and pulled the covers back, I widened my blue eyes at him.
“What are you doing?”
“What? I can’t share a bed with you now? We’ve slept in the same bed all weekend.”
“Fine,” I huffed and turned to face away from him as he settled in.
“Should we cuddle or something?” he asked, seeming to have every intention of snuggling.
“Probably not a good idea,” I said without turning over.
“Why not? You enjoyed it last night. I’m an excellent snuggler,” he said proudly.
A grin split my face. “Is that right?”
“Yes. You even told me so.”
That made me flip over to face him. “You’re so full of shit.”
“Scout’s honor.” He smiled and gave me the sexiest wink I might have ever seen.
“Sleep, Mr. Sandoval,” I ordered.
“You too, Mrs.—”
“Don’t even say it!” I laughed, and his eyes closed slowly when I did so.
“What?” I asked, regarding the way his face just completely morphed.
“That laugh, Christ,” he nearly choked. His voice had shifted back to the dark, silky tone again.
There was definitely chemistry between us, but this whole drunken matrimony would never stand a chance. No one started a life together that way. No one.
Then again, I always take pride in being a trailblazer.
Chapter Two
Carmen
This woman. God—this woman. Equal parts alluring, infuriating, and sexy as hell. I’d never had a woman’s laugh give me a hard-on before. But, well, now here I was. Lying in bed alongside the little siren wasn’t helping my cause either.
She fell asleep within minutes, and even her freight-train snoring was stirring my arousal.
I stared at her for close to thirty minutes by the time I drifted off myself. And what did I dream of? Agatha Christine, of course. How the hell had she burrowed under my skin so deeply and so quickly? I’d known her for a couple of weeks—three at most—and she was on my brain constantly. Out of the blue, I’d get a face-splitting grin from remembering something she’d said or done, and it already pulled me up short a few times.
People got nervous when you chuckle in an otherwise quiet room. Like last weekend, for example. While all eyes were on me in church, I had to make up some bullshit excuse as to why I was cracking up during the priest’s homily. Lying…in church of all places.
I could still picture my mother’s disapproving scowl when I apologized. Three times. And that was before I was trapped in the family car for the drive home.
Remarkably, Agatha was still asleep when I woke up. The vodka she chugged before our nap probably had something to do with it. The excessive drinking had to stop. My mind sailed right into that harbor as soon as I considered her sleep aid. She was too young, too bright, and too beautiful to become a wasteland. As long as she was mine, she’d be drying out.
And I had every intention of her remaining mine. I hadn’t investigated the matter yet, but I assumed the marriage could be annulled. But with my family’s religious background, there was no way that would be happening. Not if I wanted to stay in my parents’ good graces.
First, I had to figure out a way to explain to them how I ended up with a wife and save her reputation at the same time. There would be no laughing over the story about how we got so drunk we didn’t realize the place was a legitimate chapel.
I’d been digging through my jumbled memory of the previous night, and that was the best notion that made sense. There was a lot of laughing and shouting—mainly on my darling wife’s part—and then some goofy borrowed wedding attire, and now we had matching green rubber rings on our fingers.
