Page 18 of Just My Type (The Boston Hearts #3)

CHAPTER TWELVE

NOAH

H annah grabs my hand, holding it in front of her face.

“What the actual fuck is this?” she demands, pointing to the silver band circling my left ring finger that I’m just noticing now.

On instinct, my gaze drops to her left hand, where an identical band sits. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hannah’s gaze follow mine down to her hand, and it’s like I can see her brain engage.

Her eyes dart around the room, as if she’s seeing it for the first time, and my gaze follows hers, seeing what she sees.

The crumpled piece of paper on the floor that looks suspiciously like a veil.

A brochure on the nightstand from the Little White Wedding Chapel next to a piece of paper with Marriage License printed at the top in fancy cursive.

An old school polaroid photo I can’t see from where I sit.

And then her gaze drops down to her body.

In her rush to the bathroom and my concern for her when I woke up to the sound of her throwing up, we both somehow missed the fact that, in addition to the rings on our fingers, she’s wearing a white strapless dress that barely covers her tits and her ass.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

I don’t know much in this moment, but I am one hundred percent sure Hannah will absolutely fry my balls if I check her out right now.

It would probably be worth it.

A strangled sound from Hannah pulls my brain out of the gutter.

With a gasp, she tugs at the front of her dress, but there is no give in the material at all as she claws at it.

“Get it off,” she wheezes, her voice full of panic. “Get it off.”

My stomach clenches as I watch her struggle. Without a second thought, I pull her between my legs and wrap an arm around her waist, taking one of her hands in mine and bringing my mouth close to her ear. “I’ve got you.”

I stroke my free hand up her back and grasp the zipper of her dress, tugging it down quickly to give her room to breathe and keeping my other arm tight around her waist. “Breathe, Gorgeous. Take it slow. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” I repeat.

Relief swamps me as she takes a few deep breaths.

Hannah focuses on the white comforter spread over her legs, and I focus on how good she feels in my arms, the way her breathing evens out as I stroke a hand up and down her back, feeling an unreasonable amount of pride that I was able to calm her down.

That she feels safe enough to let me help her.

I don’t think Hannah lets very many people help her.

But just as quickly as she calms down, her body tenses, every muscle clenching tight as she flies out of bed, clapping her hand to her chest at the last second to keep her unzipped dress from falling straight to the floor. She stares at me, her eyes wild and just a touch unhinged.

I don’t mean to smile. I really don’t. But I’m in Hannah’s bed, and she’s so fucking cute with her unzipped dress and her messy ponytail and sleepy eyes.

And yeah, I have no clue what happened last night, and all signs point to we accidentally got married in Vegas, but I’ve always been a flexible kind of guy, so I’m going to roll with it.

Hannah, however, seems to have other ideas for how to handle this morning.

“What the fuck is happening right now?” she demands, her eyes flying around the room, as if she’s making sure she actually saw all the things she thinks she saw.

All the evidence of whatever happened last night.

“Why are you in my room, and why are we wearing rings, and why is there a brochure from a wedding chapel and a paper that says marriage license on it? Why am I wearing a white dress I’ve never seen before that barely covers my ass and no underwear and why are you naked in my bed? Did we get fucking married ?”

I tilt my head, trying to think back to last night. All I can grab onto is one single memory, but it’s a good one. “What’s the last thing you remember from last night?” I ask her.

Hannah scrunches up her nose as she thinks, and god, I just want to kiss it and wrap her back up in my arms. “Being at the club with Jordan, Jo, Amelia, and Elliot, maybe? You and Cooper showing up while we were on the dance floor. You?”

I flash her a grin. “We found a karaoke bar. I’m pretty sure we sang show tunes.”

She shakes her head vigorously. “No way. That doesn’t sound like something I would do. And what does that have to do with whether or not we’re married? Are we fucking married, Noah?”

I reach over to the nightstand and grab the piece of paper there, my eyes moving over the words.

Marriage License. Hannah Evans. Noah Wyles.

July Sixth. We're married . Something warm flows through me.

I have no idea why, and Hannah would kick my ass for this thought, but the idea of being married to her? I like it. I like it a whole lot.

“Why are you smiling? Is that, like, a fake license? Did we not actually get married?” The relief in her voice makes me chuckle.

“Oh, no, I’m pretty sure this is the real deal.

The seal of the state of Nevada is on it and everything.

And look at this picture.” I hold up the Polaroid of us.

Hannah is wearing the veil that’s crumpled on the hotel room floor, the dress she’s currently holding up with one hand on her chest and, inexplicably, only one shoe.

She has an arm hooked around my neck, I have one wrapped around her waist, and we’re grinning at each other like idiots.

She’s holding a tacky bouquet of flowers in her free hand, my fist is pumping the air like I just won a gold medal or something, and we’re standing in front of the sign for the wedding chapel.

All I can focus on is Hannah’s wide, carefree smile.

She looks so happy, and all I want is to put that look on her face all the time. Every day. As much as possible.

“Oh, my fucking god,” she whispers. “Like, seriously, ohmyfuckinggod. How did this happen? And WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SMILING?” she roars, making what looks like a move to throw her hands up in the air before remembering the state of her dress and keeping her hand right where it is.

The more she freaks out, the calmer I get. The more sure I am that accidentally marrying Hannah is the best thing that’s ever happened to anyone, ever.

My grin grows even wider, and I sit up on my knees in bed, shuffling to the edge until we’re almost face to face. “Hannah Evans is my wife. This is the best day of my entire life.”

She narrows her eyes at me as if she’s imagining lasers shooting out of them and slicing me right in half until I am very, very dead. “Be so fucking for real right now.”

“Gorgeous, I am so fucking for real. And it’s going to be okay, I swear.”

It is going to be more than okay, because I married Hannah.

Hannah Evans is my wife.

My wife. Fuck, I like the sound of that.

And yeah, she might hate it, and maybe we skipped some steps, but I’m a surgeon. I’m aces at improvising.

Hannah stares at me like I have entirely lost my mind, and I mean, maybe I have, but I freaking love this day. “How, exactly, is it going to be okay? Nothing about this is okay. We got married, Noah. Married. Drunk. In Vegas. Who does that?”

HANNAH

Noah looks thoughtful for a second before his eyes light up. “The characters in your third book did.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mumble, blowing out a breath when my phone dings from the nightstand.

I bend down as carefully as I can and swipe what looks like Noah’s discarded T-shirt from the floor, tugging it one handed over my dress and letting the dress fall to the floor.

I glance up just in time to see Noah’s eyes heat.

I roll my own eyes. “Seriously?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “You look good in my clothes, Han. Especially when you’re my wife, and even more when I know you don’t have anything on underneath that T-shirt.”

I snarl at him and yank my phone off the nightstand, grabbing a Twizzler for good measure from the open bag I left on the dresser before I met everyone at the club last night. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Smart Girl Smut Sisters

Cece

Good morning, my babies! How’s the big bachelor/bachelorette weekend?

Jo

Oh my god, it’s the best!

Amelia

What she said. I fucking love it here. Elliot found the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever had, and we’re sitting on the terrace having breakfast. I want to stay here forever.

Pam

Shit. I really should have come with you. I didn’t think you would want a mom cramping your style, but I forgot for a second that I’m a cool mom and everything is more fun when I’m there.

Jo

I told you so. There’s still time. Hallie and Ben and the rest of Jordan’s friends all get in pretty soon. Want to hop on a flight?

Pam

I wish. Can’t make it today, but I think the book club needs a retreat. Girls’ trip this fall?

Jo

ABSOLUTELY YES.

Amelia

Definitely.

Cece

I’ll see where the wind blows me.

Hannah, honey, are you there? Anything…interesting happen to you since you got to Vegas?

Jo

WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

Cece

Jo, I know everything, dear.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I’ve always been a little skeptical of Cece and her supposed psychic tendencies, but I’m standing here in Noah’s T-shirt with a wedding ring on my finger and a marriage license with my name on it, so I suddenly believe it with my full chest and if she outs my drunken Vegas marriage to everyone I will absolutely die. My fingers fly over the keyboard.

Me

I’m here. Just woke up. Everything’s good with me.

Amelia

Did you end up getting any writing done after we left the club?

I suddenly remember that was the excuse I made up so they wouldn’t feel like they were abandoning me when they all left to go have sex or whatever. Sighing, I start typing again.

Me

Yep, so much. Vegas is good inspiration.

Pam

Please tell me you’re doing another accidental marriage. I just love those.

Jo

COSIGN. I think that was your best one ever.

Amelia

YES, OH MY GOD, DO IT.

Cece

An accidental Vegas marriage is a wonderful idea!

I can’t help the borderline hysterical laugh that bubbles out of me because I have literally no idea what is happening right now.

“What’s so funny?” My head shoots up, and I meet Noah’s deep blue eyes.

“Funny?” I ask, my voice sharp. I drop my phone on the nightstand and walk to the bed so we’re almost chest to chest. When Noah’s eyes flash, I suck in a breath and force myself to focus on the horror show that is my current existence and not on the fact that he looks incredible in the morning.

“Nothing is funny. There is not one single thing that is funny about the fact that in a couple hours we have to go have lunch with your brothers, my sisters, and my very good friend and all of Jordan’s friends and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary happened when, in fact, all evidence points to us being fucking married.

Married , Noah. Do you understand how serious this is? ”

Noah reaches out and lays a hand on my cheek. “It’s going to be okay, I swear. This kind of thing happens all the time.”

When he taps my cheek three times, I barely resist the urge to lean into the comfort of his hand. “Not to me.”

“I mean, not to me either, but that’s what this deal between us was, right? Doing things you haven’t done before. Showing you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“The way I deserve to be treated is to get black out drunk and married in Vegas?”

Noah chuckles. “I mean, not exactly, but look on the bright side. I get to show you how I would treat you if we actually were married. That will be great material for your books.”

“Uh, I hate to break it to you, but we are actually married. For the moment, you’re my fucking husband. Jesus Christ.”

I swear to god, Noah’s face literally lights up. “Hearing you say that is so hot. Call me your husband again.”

I tip my head back, swallowing back the scream that wants to escape. “No fucking way. We’re getting this annulled. Immediately.”

“Okay, look,” Noah says, tipping my face back down so he’s looking at me. “We’re here for a couple more days to celebrate Jordan and Jo, so let’s do that. When we get back to Boston, we’ll work everything out. I promise. Whatever we do, we’re in this together, okay?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Damn him and his logic. Him telling me we’re in this together shouldn’t make me feel so calm, but for some reason, it does.

“Fine. But we’re not telling anyone about this.”

Noah shrugs. “Okay.”

I grab his chin, forcing him to look at me. “I’m serious. Tell no one. This is Jordan and Jo’s weekend and getting drunk married is embarrassing as fuck. Keep this to yourself.”

He grins. “You want me to be your dirty little secret, Han?”

“Ugh,” I groan. “I don’t want you to be my dirty little anything. Just don’t tell anyone. We’ll take care of this when we get back to Boston, and it’ll be like it never happened at all.”

Noah does a little mock bow that I absolutely should not find charming. “Your wish is my command. Now, you need a latte and a muffin, stat. Come on, wife, let’s go order breakfast.”

I suck in a breath, my calm immediately fleeing the building. “I hate you,” I seethe.

“You don’t, Gorgeous. You really, really don’t.”

Shit. I really don’t. And I have no clue what to do about that.