Page 7 of The Husband Situation

“Oh damn,” she whispered. “I’m in trouble.” Heaving a louder sigh, she sank to the bed.

Though she had to get dressed, down about two gallons of coffee and meet her employees downstairs in the hotel lobby, she didn’t move. Didn’t do anything but stare at the window and the sprawling view of Las Vegas. She beat back the edges of panic that tried to tackle her again and drag her under.

She hated being out of control.

She hated being a prisoner to her own bad decisions.

She hated being uncertain of the future.

Most of all, shehatedBlue Christmas.

CHAPTER TWO

COLEDENNISON,ATTORNEY-AT-LAWand Rose Bend’s mayor, stared at Patrick and Brooklyn across his desk as if they were two strangers—two aliens—instead of people he’d known for several years. In Patrick’s case, almost two decades.

And maybe because of that long friendship, Cole’s gaze remained on Patrick the longest. With a “Huh,” the attorney fell back against his office chair and continued to scrutinize them, his fingers steepled under his chin.

Hell.

“That’s all we get ishuh?” Patrick asked, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Is that a legal opinion?”

Cole shook his head, a smile slowly curving his mouth.

“It’s the best one I have at the moment.” His smile deepened, broadened, lighting up his brown eyes. “I have to admit,” he said, leaning forward and propping his forearms on the desktop, “I’ve been a lawyer for years, and over those years, people have come to me with some pretty out-there things. But I can honestly say this is my first Vegas elopement.” When Brooklyn’s lips parted, Cole held up a hand, forestalling what would undoubtedly be an objection toelopement. “Sorry, not an elopement. A drunken night of revelry that ended up in a marriage. Still, this is my first. And though I’ve heard and litigated weirder cases, I’m still a little stunned.”

“Try waking up married with no memory of how you got that way,” Brooklyn muttered.

Waking up married, no memory and naked. Can’t forget that. There was no way he could ever forget that, Patrick silently added. Even if he had no memory of getting her in that state.Dammit. But since she wouldn’t appreciate the reminder, he kept it to himself.

“Is the wedding or marriage legal?” Patrick asked, gripping the chair arms.

Realizing just how tight his fingers clutched the wood, he deliberately relaxed his hold. And shut down the foolish, ill-advised slivers of hope that slipped between his ribs, refusing to be plucked free.

Hope that Cole would say yes, their marriage was legal and binding. That yes, they had no way out of this situation they’d created and had to make the best of it. Oh yeah, he hoped that he could keep Brooklyn Hayes as his wife. Keep her as his.

But he couldn’t voice any of those thoughts. Because that would mean betraying his longest and most closely held secret.

That he was in love with his ex-girlfriend’s older sister.

And had been for three years.

He and Kayla had broken up two and a half years ago. Yes, he’d started wanting Brooklyn before he’d broken up with her sister.

That made him an asshole. Especially in Brooklyn and her family’s eyes, if they ever found out. But no one had, and no one would. This was his burden, and even before he’d ended things with Kayla, Patrick had accepted he could never have Brooklyn.

But then fate, God, tequila... One or all three had thrown him a bone, and at Christmas, too.

Fuck if he would look a Christmas gift in the mouth.

Even if he could only have that perfect present for the amount of time it took Brooklyn to end them. And she had every intention of doing so. She’d made no bones about that from the moment he’d woken up in her hotel room. In her bed. Tangled up in sheets that carried her jasmine-and-vanilla scent.

Shit.

He was here in Cole’s office to nullify his marriage, not think about consummating it.

Goddamn, he wished he could remember that. Remember how it felt to slowly push into her undoubtedly silken, tight-as-a-fist heat. Remember the erotic sounds she made as she pulsed around him, milking him. Remember how her curves aligned perfectly to his as he held her tight afterward.

He didn’t need his memories to know he’d held her. Not when he couldn’t be within her presence for mere seconds and not damn near hum with the need to touch her.