Full Throttle

CHAPTER TEN

SHAWN woke up with a start, hot under the covers and desperate for a drink. She’d been dreaming about being chased by a tiger, who had backed her into a corner and bared his teeth at her. Heart racing, she rolled onto her side and realized why it was so unusually warm. Her body was being heated by Rhett’s, who was sleeping a mere two inches away. She could feel the warmth radiating off him like a toaster oven. The sun was starting to come up, a sliver of light spreading across the carpet of the bedroom floor.

Swallowing the thick lump that was in her throat, she pushed her hair off her face and studied him. She didn’t know if he was naked below the waist, but he was on top, his arms both out from under the comforter, his head turned toward her. She felt a tender urge to reach out and stroke his cheek, his jaw, but she squashed it, her feelings too muddled. Last night she had done things, said things, allowed things that she didn’t understand and she felt vulnerable, stripped bare.

When he shifted a little, she quickly looked away, afraid he would wake up. There was a glass of water on her nightstand, clearly brought to her by Rhett. She didn’t remember falling asleep, just that when he’d left the room, she’d been relieved. Relieved to be back in protective cotton, the covers over her, her cheeks itchy from crying, her inner thighs hot and sticky. She hadn’t been able to get up, afraid her legs wouldn’t work, afraid she might actually start crying in earnest.

A week ago, she had woken up alone, happy, healthy, content for the most part, heir apparent to the speedway, a single, confident businesswoman.

Now she was . . . what? A wife? A submissive? Terrified? Exhilarated? More sexually satisfied than she had ever been?

She didn’t know. All she knew was that last night she had surrendered to him and enjoyed it.

“Morning,” he murmured from behind her, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, caressing down her arm.

Shawn fought the urge to jerk away. Or worse, to give in and turn to him and beg him to take her again the way he had the night before.

“Morning,” she managed back, staring at the wall before reaching for the glass. The movement forced his hand to fall away from her. “Thanks for the water.”

“You’re welcome.”

The second she settled back on the bed, he was touching her again. Acutely aware of every inch of her body, Shawn’s heart started to race, and not in a good way.

Rhett kissed the side of her head. “Damn it, I have to go to work.”

Thank God. “That sucks,” she lied as she glanced back at him. “Do you want some coffee and eggs or anything?”

“I can fix myself some coffee. You stay in bed, beautiful.”

The bed creaked as he sat up and she struggled to find fault with him. He was considerate. And naked. Very, very naked. With an incredibly tight set of buns. He turned. And a very erect, above average penis. No wonder she was sore this morning. Not that any lingering awareness prevented her from wanting him to pound her again.

She forced her gaze upward again, aware he was speaking and she had no idea what he was saying. “What?”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Distracted you, didn’t it? Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time for you to check it out when I get home.”

Home. Ugh.

He seemed to realize what he’d said because he added, “Unless you have other plans tonight.”

She shook her head. At the moment, she wasn’t sure if that were a good thing or not.

“Good.” He came back to the bed—still naked, hello—and leaned over her to kiss her fully on the mouth. “Want me to bring home Chinese food? I’ll be back around seven.”

“Sure. Thanks. Have a good day at work.” Could she be any more inane? Could this be any more bizarre?

“Thanks.” He ran his finger across her bottom lip, where she had torn into the flesh the night before, and then gave her a soft kiss. “Last night was very sexy. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

She nodded. Apparently she had not only given complete sexual control over to him, she’d become mute.

“Alright, I’m outta here. See you tonight, Scarlett.”

And that made everything just all that much worse.

Shawn lay in bed for fifteen long minutes, afraid to move, afraid he might come back into the bedroom, until she finally heard him go out the side door, the screen slamming behind him.

She heaved a sigh of relief and jumped out of bed and virtually ran for the shower, locking the door behind her, something she never did in her own house. Turning on the water, she didn’t even wait for it to heat before she jumped in, intent on washing the scent and feel of him off her skin. Using a loofah, she scrubbed every nook and cranny on her body, cheeks burning as she remembered the night before, wondering how she could have let him do those things to her.

Wondering how she could survive if she didn’t let him do it again.

When she got out she was toweling up and feeling more calm. Coffee would help even more.

Then she heard a knock on her front door. That better be a Jehovah’s Witness leaving a pamphlet or she was going to scream. The knocking continued as she pulled on her yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Rushing through the living room, she saw it was Charity and Harley standing on her front step.

Let the fun continue.

“Where the hell have you been?” Charity asked. “It’s colder than tea bagging in ice water out here.”

Shawn blinked, both at that image and at the uncertainty as to why her friend was pushing past her into the living room on a Sunday morning. Charity wasn’t exactly known as a morning person.

“We were at the side door, but for some reason the doorknob is locked, so we couldn’t get in. You never lock your door.”

“Rhett must have locked it,” she said, running her hands through her damp hair. “He left for work and he doesn’t have a key yet.”

Talk about it like it was normal. Make it normal.

Charity grinned. “Dude, you’re insane, do you know that? I never thought you had it in you.”

Harley looked more worried than anything else as she closed the front door behind them, the blustery February wind cutting through Shawn. She wanted coffee and a pair of socks. “So what brings you two by today? Do you want some coffee?”

“We’re here to help you plan your wedding party, remember? We made plans yesterday.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right.” She had totally forgotten about Harley’s offer to help with her fake Valentine’s Day love-fest celebration. Gag. “My brain is fried.”

“You’re probably running on no sleep. I’m surprised you can actually walk after two nights of Mr. Wet Spot.” Charity flopped on her sofa.

Shawn tried not to blush, but it was an epic failure. “So how do we plan a wedding party? Not that I really want a wedding party, but I’m sure Rhett’s mother already hates me, so I don’t want to make it worse. He said she’ll be hurt if we don’t have a party.”

“You have to have a party of some sort,” Charity told her. “Come on. How many times do you get married? Twice, maybe three times tops. The very first one at least should warrant a little boogying down.”

“I think this is it for me,” Shawn said truthfully. There was no way she wanted to do this again once she and Rhett got their divorce a year from now. Then again, when would this bizarre set of circumstances ever present themselves again? “I’m putting some coffee on.”

“The whole house smells like coffee already,” Harley said, following her into the kitchen. “Do you have an automatic coffeemaker?”

“No.” But she had a husband. Who in addition to giving her three orgasms, left hot coffee in two thermoses on the kitchen counter, a note next to them.

“Hot coffee for you. XO R”

XO? Hugs and kisses? Shawn studied the scrawl of his handwriting and tried to interpret the meaning behind it. He hadn’t known there would be anyone there to witness the note, so why would he write that?

Her head hurt. Her chest hurt. Her cooter hurt.

If this was marriage, it blew donkey balls.

“Ah, that’s so sweet,” was Harley’s opinion.

Donkey balls were sweet?

Oh, she meant the note. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Because that’s what she was supposed to say. And it was sweet. How could she argue that it wasn’t?

“Do you ever wonder if Rhett has an ulterior motive?” Charity asked, joining them in the small kitchen.

“Charity!” Her twin squawked, clearly appalled. “It’s a love-at-first-sight thing! It happens!”

Probably not, but the truth was a lot less shiny.

“What kind of ulterior motive could he possibly have?” Shawn asked Charity, actually feeling a little insulted. How nice to hear that her friend thought no guy would fall head over ass for her.

“Maybe he thinks the track is worth more than it is. Maybe he’s after money and sponsorships.” Charity shrugged. “I’m not trying to be a dick, but you have to admit, this is just cray-cray. Totally out of left field for you.”

“He signed a prenup before we got married on Friday. He can’t touch the track. He doesn’t get anything.” Except the hundred grand she’d promised him. “Don’t be so cynical. Maybe I was just ready.”

“Ready for what? To marry the first guy who asked you?”

“Charity . . .” Harley said in a soft voice, the warning clear.

Shawn felt herself bristling, but she beat it back. The truth was, if either of the twins had done what she just had, she would be concerned herself. However, she suspected she would be a bit more tactful than suggesting a man had married her for money. Or that she was so desperate she’d grab the first male to show interest and get hitched.

“Seriously, Charity, I’m going to pretend that what you just said wasn’t nearly as rude as it sounded. I think it is possible that I’m smart enough not to just marry any man who asks me. If I wasn’t, I would have eloped at fourteen with Bryan Johnson when he told me he’d marry me if I blew him.”

“Was that what Rhett offered?” Harley said, in a rare comedic moment for her.

Shawn laughed. “Something like that.”

“Wait, you blew Bryan Johnson?”

“No! That is not what I meant!” Shawn went into the cupboard for a mug. She clearly needed her coffee. Now. “I wasn’t blowing anyone at fourteen.” In fact, she wasn’t blowing anyone now. That had not entered into their bed sport the night before, which Shawn found curious. In her experience, men were forever trying to wave their pecker in her face, and yet Rhett hadn’t at all. He had spent the majority of the night focusing on her.

Hmm. That was interesting.

“So how many people are coming to the party?” Harley asked, leaning on the counter as Shawn unscrewed one of the thermoses.

Good question. “Well, Rhett has seven sisters and a brother, plus all their spouses.” Though, truthfully, she had no idea if they all lived in the Charlotte area or not. “Plus sixteen nieces and nephews. His parents. My mom and my brother and his wife. You two. Debbie, Linda, and John, who have all been working at the track for years. Rhett’s fellow crew members. How many is that?”

“I think we’re at forty-seven,” Harley said.

“Holy crap.” Shawn poured coffee into a mug that read “If only Mondays were as easy as I am.” The mug had been funnier a week ago, she had to admit. “That’s a lot of people for a small party.”

“You always wanted a big family,” Charity said. “It looks like you have one now.”

Except it wasn’t real. Shawn bit her lip and took a sip. She realized that someone was knocking on the side door. “Okay, now who is that? Eve is at the track today, so it can’t be her.”

“I’ll get it,” Harley offered. The minute she opened the door, a gust of wind and an older woman rushed in.

Arms instantly enveloped Harley. “Honey, it’s so good to meet you. I’m your momma-in-law.”

Oh, God.

Harley automatically hugged her back as Rhett’s mother continued, “Now I can’t say I’m thrilled that you got married so suddenlike and at the courthouse, but you know what? I say who cares when what really matters is that my youngest has found the right woman for him.” She pulled back. “Let me look at you, Shawn. Oh, you’re just too cute. Exactly Rhett’s type.”

Shawn coughed, not sure whether to be amused or offended. Harley sputtered a little, her head shaking.

“Oh, I’m not Shawn.”

“I am,” Shawn volunteered, raising her hand a little and really wishing she were wearing a bra. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Ford.”

“Oh.” Rhett’s mother swung her view from Harley to her. “You’re Shawn?” she asked, incredulous. “Oh, goodness, well, of course. It’s just you’re not Rhett’s usual type.” Then she laughed. “Of course, he didn’t marry any of those girls, did he?”

Shawn laughed weakly. Except that he hadn’t intended to marry her either until she’d offered him money. So girls like Harley were normally his type, huh? Petite, blond, natural-looking. Clearly sweet, clearly passive. Unlike her. She was tall, her figure more athletic than traditionally feminine, her hair a low-maintenance, tousled shoulder-length mess. She couldn’t be bothered to flat-iron it or curl it. Or really even cut it all that often. Nor was she particularly passive. At least, not generally speaking.

The memory of Rhett spanking her popped into her head and she shoved it aside. So she’d been passive in bed. What of it?

She was not going to feel inadequate because she was independent and something of an adult tomboy. Hadn’t she come to terms with that self-esteem crap twenty years ago?

So she moved away from the counter and toward Rhett’s mother. “Come in, come in. Let me take your coat.”

“Oh, thanks, hon.”

Shawn found herself enveloped in a hug before being handed a basket. “I brought you some muffins. I know, it’s not much, but I didn’t have a lot of notice.” She wagged her finger at Shawn and gave her a rueful look.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ford.” Shawn took the basket and set it on the counter.

“Oh, Lord, call me Sandy. Technically, we’re both Mrs. Ford now.”

Oh, God, she was, wasn’t she? Wait. She didn’t have to change her name. That would be stupid, because then she’d just have to change it back in a year. She was still Shawn Hamby and always would be. Feeling a profound sense of relief, she gestured to her friends. “This is Harley and Charity. They’re here to help with planning the wedding party.”

“Nice to meet you girls. Perfect timing then!” She peeled off her coat and handed it to Shawn. “Unless you don’t want your mother-in-law’s opinion.”

“No, of course, I would love it. I have no idea what I’m doing.” That was the truth, without a doubt. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some.”

Shawn poured coffee for everyone, then took out the muffins and plated them, and they all retreated into the living room. Sinking into an easy chair, she marveled at the sheer oddity of the circumstance. She was sitting here planning her wedding reception with a woman she’d never met. Her husband’s mother. If only Pops could see her now, he’d realize what a foolish idea his will had been. They were making a sheer mockery out of the institution of marriage.

“Rhett’s father and I have been married for thirty-six years,” she started.

Oh, and that made her feel better. Not.

“Congratulations, that’s wonderful.”

“The house is a little empty these days, but it’s good to know all my kids are married themselves and happy and healthy. I wasn’t sure about Rhett, you know. He’s always been so serious.”

“He’s no stand-up comedian,” Shawn agreed. “But the good thing is he always knows what he wants.”

Charity coughed into her hand.

Shawn shot her a sideways glare. She knew exactly what Charity was envisioning, and damn it, she was right.

“That is true. So where were you thinking of having the party? And when?”

“Valentine’s Day. Rhett thought it was . . . romantic.” She almost choked on her tongue, but she forced the words out. Fortunately, her blush could be taken as that of a new bride, and not the lying poseur that she was. “I have no idea where to have it. I think it’s going to be about fifty people, and given it’s winter, we can’t exactly have an outdoor barbecue in the yard.”

“What about a hall or a restaurant?” Charity asked.

“That sounds expensive to rent.” She was already shelling out a hundred grand to be Rhett’s wife, she wasn’t going to drop twenty K on a wedding reception on top of it. The point was to be financially solvent in the end, not bankrupt after going through all of this. “I was thinking wherever it is, people can bring potluck instead of wedding gifts. I want it to be casual, fun.” Cheap. Over.

“What about the track?” Rhett’s mother asked. “Hamby Speedway has plenty of room indoors, right? It wouldn’t be glamorous, but it’s free and it seems fitting.”

She had a point. Plus the publicity would be phenomenal. “Hm. That’s a great idea. I think it could work.”

“It’s so . . . dirty,” Charity said, in horror. “It’s a dirt track.”

“We’re not talking about throwing a party on the track itself,” Shawn protested. “We have a party room for corporate and media events.” It could work.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Harley reassured her.

Charity looked skeptical, but then again she always did.

But once her twin pulled out a notebook and started making a to-do list, Charity seemed to realize this was happening with or without her opinion, so she might as well add it. Which was good, because ultimately Shawn found she had no opinion herself. It was more overwhelming than anything else.

Frankly, she’d never been the little girl who fantasized about her wedding, and she was no great party planner either. She was more of a show-up-with-a-bottle-of-wine-and-hope-someone-did-all-the-work kind of person. Given that this wasn’t even real, and she was already feeling guilty for essentially duping her friends and family, she really didn’t care whether they used peonies versus roses.

“So I’ll call the catering company for linens, Charity is handling the flowers, and Mrs. Ford is going to organize the food. Shawn, what is your mom going to want to do?”

“Drink.” Shawn shrugged. “No, seriously, I don’t think she will want to be involved in any way, but I’ll ask her.”

“She’s not going to want to be involved?” Mrs. Ford looked horrified. “Why ever not? You’re her only daughter.”

“Mom is kind of a free spirit. Mostly my grandparents raised me. She’s happy for me.” Which wasn’t even true. When Shawn had called her to give her the news, her mother had told her she was an idiot to get married and tie herself emotionally and legally to a man who would most likely screw her over in the end. It hadn’t been a helpful chat. “She doesn’t like details,” she added.

“Neither do you,” Harley pointed out. “It’s like pulling teeth to get you to offer an opinion on cake flavors or a décor theme color.”

“Which is why I can’t fault her for it.” Hey, she could admit that she was missing a craft gene. She had no interest in hand-cutting decorative paper signs for the milk-and-cookies bar Harley had thought would be supercute. She agreed. The concept was supercute. But that didn’t mean she wanted to cut shit.

Nor did she think Rhett was really the milk-and-cookies type. He seemed more like whiskey and caramel sauce. But then again, what the hell did she know?

“Don’t worry about it. You’re the bride. We’ll handle everything,” Rhett’s mother assured her. “I have six daughters living here in Charlotte. We’ll knock this out in a few hours, and with Charity and Harley’s help, you won’t need to worry about a thing.”

Shawn would think that was marvelous if it wasn’t for the fact that she felt guilty as hell. “Thank you. Y’all don’t know how much I appreciate this, seriously. I couldn’t do this without your help.”

“Should we do a slide show? You know, like pictures of you both growing up, then pictures of you together?”

Shawn gave Charity a look that hopefully conveyed how totally freaking stupid that was. “That’s going to be a short slide show. To my knowledge, there is only one photo of Rhett and me together, and it’s not one I would ever show anyone.”

“Oh.” Charity made a purring sound, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder. “Naughty, naughty.”

Really? Harley was about to find out what life as a single birth was like because Shawn was going to kill Charity. “I don’t mean that! Gawd. My mother-in-law is here.” It may not be real, but it still held all the trauma of the title for her. “I just meant it’s the shot from the courthouse when we got married and the lighting sucks. I look translucent and Rhett is scowling at the photographer.”

“That’s just the way he is,” Mrs. Ford said, waving her hand. “But you make a good point. We need to have a photo shoot done with the two of you.”

Shawn sat up straighter. “Oh no! That’s not what I meant. We don’t need to do that. It’s fine. I’m not very photogenic.”

“Oh, good grief. Of course, we’re doing it. I’ll call a friend of a friend and we’ll have it set up for this week.”

Well, if Shawn got her lack of organization from her mother, it was safe to say that Rhett got his heavy-handedness from his mother.

“Now what can I get the two of you for a wedding gift?”

“Oh, nothing, really . . . I mean, you’re giving me all this help with the party. That’s honestly enough. We don’t need . . . anything,” she finished lamely. Why the hell did Rhett have to work today? She couldn’t believe that she was being forced to deal with this on her own.

Of course, this whole farce was her idea, so technically, she should be the one dealing with it. Damn it.

And this morning, she had wanted him to leave because she’d been feeling vulnerable after last night.

“Dishes? Towels? Maybe some new bedding?”

Well, new bedding wouldn’t hurt. Her comforter was the same one she had used as a teenager, and according to the calendar, that was a long-ass time ago. “Bedding would be lovely, but don’t feel you have to.” Get anything for the greedy whore.

Oh, this was dicey moral ground.

“What size is your bed? A queen?”

“I’m not sure. It might be a double.”

“Well, let’s go take a look.” Sandy was up on her feet before Shawn could protest. “Which room is yours?”

“First door on the right.” Shawn scrambled to follow her.

She was already in the doorway, assessing. “That’s only a double, honey. Good grief, talk about close quarters. Young love is certainly cozy.”

“It doesn’t seem to be a problem.” It hadn’t. Yes, she had woken up with a body temperature of a thousand degrees from Radiator Rhett, but she would just use a thinner blanket. If he even intended to sleep in her bed again. Which he might not want to. Or she might not want him to.

“Regardless, you do look like you could use a little refresh in here. I’m happy to see that you’re practical and don’t waste your money on things you don’t need, but sweetheart, let me buy you some new sheets.”

Shawn glanced into her room over Sandy’s shoulder. It was a tired-looking bedroom she had to admit, with worn beige carpet and equally worn beige walls. She’d hung a picture of a sunset on the wall about a decade ago, and it was now crooked. The bed was even tilted at an odd angle from the wall, like they had shifted it last night during sex, and the sheets were destroyed. There was also a purple vibrator on the nightstand where she had tossed it after Rhett had gone to use the bathroom.

Oh. My. God.

With any luck, Sandy hadn’t noticed.

Then she turned, with pursed lips, and Shawn knew she most definitely had noticed.

Shawn wanted to die. She wanted to peel back the dingy carpet and bury herself under it.

Not that Sandy would say anything. But just knowing that she knew was horrifying enough.

Except she did say something.

Which meant that Shawn’s plunge into awkward hell was one hundred percent complete.

“Shawn, is Rhett not . . . satisfying you?” she asked in a low voice.

Yep. Hell. Certainly her face was on fire. “Of course he does,” she managed, wondering if she could pretend this was about a reference to say, something like his ability to meet her emotional needs. Not about why she needed to use a vibrator two days after her marriage.

“Because I know that Rhett can be selfish. He’s been spoiled, I admit, and that’s my fault. He was my youngest, my baby, and I knew we weren’t having any more, so I definitely cut him more slack than I should have.” Sandy put her hand on her chest. “His last girlfriend told me that he’s rude and demanding, and it breaks my heart to hear that.”

It was breaking Shawn’s that they were having this discussion. And who was the bitch who had run to Rhett’s mother and whined? Geez. Deal with your shit, honey, don’t go running to your boyfriend’s mother.

Feeling defensive on Rhett’s behalf, she told Sandy quite honestly, “Rhett is actually very thoughtful. He opens the door for me, he washes dishes, he makes coffee. I don’t find anything rude about him at all.” She was not discussing their sex life. In any way, shape, or form. And she was going to resolutely pretend there was no vibrator anywhere near them while they were discussing anything other than her sex life.

His mother looked pleased. “I’m glad to hear that. He has a good heart. He’s very loyal. But he doesn’t smile enough, and sometimes people misinterpret that as having ill intentions.”

A strange feeling settled over Shawn, one that she didn’t understand. She felt something in her chest that was unrecognizable, a tight grip. “He’s a wonderful man, Sandy,” she said, and she meant it. “You should be proud of him.”

Sandy squeezed her hand. “You should see him with the kids and his siblings. That’s when he relaxes.”

“So you really don’t mind that we eloped?” It was a stupid, masochistic question to ask, but she found herself seeking approval from Rhett’s mother. Maybe it was because her own mother had been so casual and flaky when she’d been growing up. Maybe it was because she missed her grandparents, who for all practical purposes had been the heart of her family. Maybe it was also because Eve had indicated that Mrs. Ford had been very unhappy with her own unexpected marriage to Nolan.

“I honestly don’t mind. Now with Nolan, it worried me a little because Nolan fell in love more times than I can count. But in the end, once I saw him with Eve, I knew this was different, something special. She’s the right woman for him. With Rhett, I trust that if he chose to marry you, you’re the woman he wants to spend his life with. He holds his emotions back, so when he opens up, it’s honest.”

Yeah, she shouldn’t have asked. Because now she felt like complete and total crap. Honest? Hardly. Neither one of them were being honest, and she felt lousy about deceiving Sandy, who clearly had her son’s best interests at heart.

Shawn also felt something that was suspiciously similar to jealousy. She envied the woman who would capture Rhett’s heart someday, who would have all that intense loyalty, that straightforward, never-wavering devotion.

She didn’t know what to say, afraid that if she did speak, she would either confess the truth or admit that she was suddenly wishing she were Rhett’s type. Fortunately, she didn’t have to respond, because Charity called to them from the living room.

“You have got to see this dress, Shawn! I think you should wear this to the party.”

Relieved and horrified all at the same time, she gave Mrs. Ford a sheepish smile. “I hadn’t even thought about a dress.”

The truth was, there were a lot of things she hadn’t thought about before she had gone and asked Rhett to marry her.

EVE watched her brother-in-law moving around the garage and frowned. She had known Rhett for years, but only in the last three months had she really spent any time with him. Initially, she had thought that he was arrogant, a charmer, who didn’t show you who he really was. She still thought he kept himself private and remote, but she knew now he wasn’t arrogant, and, frankly, he wasn’t particularly charming. He didn’t play games with women or his coworkers, and he really only spoke if he had something to say that was relevant.

Whereas Eve’s own husband could work a crowd, laughed easily, and was almost never angry, Shawn’s new husband simmered quietly beneath the surface with something Eve had never quite understood.

Even more so, now she wondered what really went on in his head.

Nolan, who had a rare weekend off from working on her brother’s pit crew, had come to the track with her to see her new engine. She had placed fifteenth the day before, and they were all pretty excited at the possibilities. Her truck was running well, and she was getting the attention she had wanted on the circuit. Her two-year plan was to break into the cup circuit and garner a major sponsorship, and so far, so good.

Even better, her husband appreciated her new engine.

But now she was worried about Rhett and Shawn, because well, she was a worrier. “I don’t know about this,” she told Nolan for about the twentieth time in the past three days.

“Eve.” Nolan put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed her through her sweatshirt. “Rhett is a grown man. Shawn is a grown woman. They know what they’re doing.”

All she could do was shake her head. “Something is fishy here, Nolan. It’s not like Rhett to just dive into a wedding on a minute’s notice with a woman he just met.”

“He is pretty intense, you know that.”

As Rhett came toward them, Eve stepped slightly away from Nolan, rocking in her sneakers as she pondered what was really going on. Shawn was impulsive, sure, but Shawn didn’t fall head over ass for men. Her starts tended to be more about racing and drinking, not about relationships. While she was perfectly willing to get a tattoo with Eve, she had never even let a guy live with her. But now she had eloped with a virtual stranger? It didn’t add up.

“Hey, can I knock off early today?” Rhett asked as he came up to them. “I just got a text from Jeannie that Mom went over to Shawn’s, and I would like to head over there and save her from being endlessly grilled.”

“Sure, no problem.” Eve felt a pang of sympathy for Shawn. “Your mom must be pissed off. I don’t envy Shawn right now. Sandy was suspicious of me for a good three months. She thought I had ulterior motives.” Fortunately, now she and her mother-in-law had come to a mutual respect and admiration for each other, but at first it had not been easy.

“She thought you were nuts for marrying beneath you,” Nolan said with a grin.

Eve snorted. “Hardly. But I’m sure the prenup didn’t help her opinion of me.” She still regretted bringing that stupid document to Nolan to sign.

He groaned. “Oh, God, let’s not bring that up again. It almost destroyed our marriage before it barely started.”

“I still don’t get why you cared,” Rhett said. “I signed one and it’s not a big deal to me. Shawn has the right to protect her assets.”

Eve felt her jaw drop. “You signed a prenup? When the hell did you have time to do that?”

“On Friday, before we got married.”

He looked like he thought it was completely normal. Inconsequential. “See you tomorrow at the apartment, right?” he asked Nolan.

Her husband nodded, then Rhett was gone with a wave.

“What the frickety-frack?” Eve asked, the second he was out of earshot. “Who the hell elopes after knowing each other for five minutes, which would indicate massive amounts of passion and insanity, yet still has enough time and a business head on their shoulders to whip together a prenup? No one. That’s who.”

“No one but Shawn and Rhett.” Nolan shrugged, but he looked puzzled, too, staring off at his brother’s retreating back.

“This is not right. Something is off. I feel like Rhett and Shawn are lying to us about something.” None of this added up.

“What the hell would they be lying about?” Nolan rolled his eyes at her. “She can’t be pregnant. There hasn’t been time.”

“Or has there?” Eve narrowed her eyes at her husband. Was Shawn pregnant with someone else’s baby? No, that didn’t add up. She would have told Eve, and she hadn’t been dating anyone for quite some time. But there was definitely something off. “What is really going on here? Because I feel like they’re pissing on my leg and telling me it’s raining.”

“Mind your own business, Eve.”

“When have I ever done that?” she asked him, incredulous.

Nolan smiled. “You got me there, babe. Now can we go home? I need you to hold me before the shit hits the fan tomorrow.”

Eve laughed. “Oh, yeah? So I need to comfort you with sex?”

“Now that you mention it . . .” He gave her a cute, pleading look.

“You’re ridiculous.” But he was her kind of ridiculous.