Page 91 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

DEX

“What?” she gasped. Lindy tried to step back, but my hand shifted to her bare butt and held her in place.

Shit. Shit!

The angry and freaked out look on Lindy’s face proved this wasn’t going as expected and that she could hear every word. I figured she’d see the ring, she’d love it, we’d have married sex until it was time to fly back to Hunter Valley, then live happily ever after.

“Thanks,” I muttered. While I wasn’t officially hungover–thank God for late night water and pain pills–but a headache threatened. “Look, it’s really not a good time.”

“I just wanted to say that OutdoorNow saw the photo and sends their best wishes along with the contract. Pure genius. It’s one thing me telling them about a new girlfriend, but nothing’s better for clearing up a bad boy image than a quickie wedding.”

“That’s not–”

Lindy snagged the phone from my hand, disconnected the call and flung it across the room. Since the suite had thick carpeting, it barely made a sound.

“You want me. You mean you want me to get that contract,” she spat.

I shook my head. “No. Fuck no.”

She pulled back and I let her go.

“That’s not what happened at all.”

“You got your contract.”

“It’s coming on Monday. But I don’t give a shit about the contract.”

She spun around. “No? You told me it was something you’d hoped for for a long time. You went to Chicago to meet with them. It would grow your charity.”

“Yes, but–”

“Tell me, was this your plan all along?”

My mouth dropped open and I stared at her as she paced in front of the huge window. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your bad boy image needs to be cleaned up. One punch at a bar and you almost lose your chances for sponsorship. You find me in Hunter Valley on vacation. Boring Lindy Beckett, a woman who can easily make you look good. My social media involves photos of my garden and slow cooker recipes. A dull accountant who can’t even find a man through online dating. ”

My eyes narrowed and I was getting pissed. The shit she was saying… “You’re itching for another spanking, sugar.”

She spun about, glared. “I’m just telling the truth. You saw it, what I’m like that day in Denver. Used it to your gain.”

I stood, strode to her, not giving a shit I was bare assed naked. “Getting married? Yes, it’s my gain because I get you!”

A hand shot up to keep me away. I stopped in the middle of the huge bedroom.

“This was a fling. A fling! Just sex. Fun. Not a marriage. I won’t marry a man who won’t stick.”

I stilled. Winced. My father hadn’t stuck. He’d been a husband on paper only. But I wanted to be there for Lindy. I was all in. Except for the Silvermines. My job. My career. My life.

“I want to stick, sugar. I can’t.”

Tears overflowed now. Fuck!

“So you get what you want. The sponsorship. But you don’t get me.”

“Lind–”

She tugged on the ring I picked out in Denver.

On the one Mallory said she’d love. Which looked perfect on her finger.

Although, I’d be fine with a piece of tied string as an outward sign that she was mine.

“You never had me. On paper, maybe. I got a bunch of orgasms, you got your deal. It’s over, Dex. ”

With a quick shove, she pushed the ring at me, and I took it. It was that, or let it fall to the floor. I shook my head. “No.”

She ran to her open suitcase, grabbed a pair of jeans and tugged them on, skipping underwear.

“Yes. I want a divorce.”

“What?”

“I want a family. Kids! A man who can be a partner in life. You knew what I wanted all along. I’m married to the one person who can’t give me what I’ve always wanted. Now I’m stuck because I can’t marry anyone else.”

Fuck. Fuck! I ran a hand through my hair, tugged on the strands. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Instead of taking off her nightie, she tucked it into her jeans, then grabbed a t-shirt, threw it over her head.

Dollar store flip flops went on her feet.

Snagging her purse, she headed for the door, ditching her suitcase.

Her hair was a mess. The t-shirt was wrinkled and thin enough that it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra.

The only makeup on her face was smeared remains from the night before.

I’d never seen her like this, and I knew her intimately, and she was leaving. Going out in public.

I was so, so fucked.

“Lindy, please. Let’s talk. I’m sorry I–”

She opened the door, glanced at me over her shoulder. “For what, exactly?”

I wasn’t sorry I married her. I wanted her to be mine. Seeing that ring on her finger was the best moment of my life. Having her smile and laugh and kiss in the back of the hired car after we said our vows… amazing.

I wasn’t sorry about the sponsorship either. I worked hard to get it and the partnership would help so many kids.

But I’d hurt her without even trying. Except I hadn’t done anything wrong.

She’d been all in for getting married. She’d been the one who’d wanted to go to the strip club, where we’d had even more drinks.

In the VIP section, they’d been heavy handed with the liquor and it showed since… yeah, we fucking got married.

In the middle of the night, I posted the wedding photo because Lamar had shared some images of all of us at a strip club.

There hadn’t been any naked chicks or tits in the images, but it was clear we were out on the town.

Wild. Either his football team didn’t give a shit what he did off season, or who the hell knew what, but I had to counter that image with something wholesome and good.

So I posted the wedding selfie. I was fiercely proud of that image, and I wanted to share it with everyone. Maybe I was a little drunk and hadn’t thought it through, but neither was Lindy. Until now.

I wasn’t sorry for showing off my new bride and the best night of my life.

“For… everything.”

She closed her eyes, a tear dripping off her chin. “Not good enough.”

Then she was gone. The door clicking shut behind her.