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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Tessa

I suddenly had a newfound respect for the women who carefully planned and executed big, grand, over-the-top weddings full of guests and the expectations from them that came with the price of a wedding gift.

Honestly, I was even ready to give those so-called ‘bridezillas’ a pass.

Because, holy hell, even our silly little fake courthouse wedding required so much attention to detail and forethought.

The dress, the suit, the rings, the shoes, my hair, my makeup, the license, the photographer, picture locations, and even what the hell we were going to do after the wedding. Because normal couples didn’t just go home, change out of their fancy clothes, and eat diner takeout on their wedding night.

That said, Rook was extremely limited in where he was allowed to go.

In the end, after many a stolen conversation when I was not actively avoiding Rook, we ended up on a fancy outdoor picnic at dusk on one of the farms at the corner of Shady Valley.

We found a company that specialized in setting up outdoor “cozy” parties.

I’d fallen in love with their social media posts where gorgeous strung Edison lights surrounded the main area—be it tables or thick blankets on the ground—their grazing boards, and, well, their prices.

I’d done the mental math on how much Rook had spent on this sham of a wedding. Then I’d quickly decided that “least expensive” was the best bet for the intimate wedding party-for-two we were going to have.

I knew that, to Rook, access to his mother was priceless. But I couldn’t help but worry about how much he was spending on me, on us. Money troubles had simply always been a running concern in my life.

To be more specific, the money troubles of the adults around me were a running concern for me. Anytime someone had to spend money on me, they did so grudgingly. And it almost always came with a lecture. If not punishment. Even for something as simple as growing out of my clothes or wearing through the soles of my shoes.

So no matter how many times Rook assured me that the money was no concern, I couldn’t help but worry about it.

I’d even tried to convince him that we could just use the tripod again for the pictures. But he’d put his foot down about that, claiming we needed a photographer to make it all seem legit.

Since it wasn’t my money, I couldn’t exactly say no.

Though I had tried to offer to pitch in. Even if the idea of losing any of the money I’d been socking away gave me a stomachache.

That was the one perk to trying to be around Rook as little as possible—I had more savings than I’d expected to have so soon in this whole process.

Maybe it was immature of me to be avoiding Rook. But when we were close, it was getting harder and harder to fight my feelings and keep my walls intact.

I mean, I’d told him about how my mom had basically sold me to a club president.

That was a story I’d never told anyone before. Sure, I’d softened the story around the edges, leaving out my terror and disgust, about how hard my hands had been shaking, about how I’d been sure I hadn’t drugged the man enough, that he was moments away from grabbing me, stripping me, and pinning me down.

And while I’d seen every sex act imaginable between couples and groups at that point, I’d yet to know a man intimately myself. Which just made it all the more terrifying.

I hadn’t told him what it was like after that incident, about how I’d taken to sleeping in the crawl space in the basement with the spiders, pulling old, dusty boxes in close to hide me, terrified that the president might want a ‘repeat’ of our night together.

And I hadn’t told him about how my relationship with my mother was never the same, about how I no longer went out of my way to help her. To give her clean urine. To make sure she hadn’t passed out on her back.

I definitely hadn’t told Rook how I no longer cared if she choked on her own vomit, how I no longer worried about what might happen when she overdosed again.

Life on my own couldn’t be as bad as life with her.

Part of not wanting to tell Rook those things was because of shame at feeling that way about anyone, let alone my flesh and blood. Another part, though, was because Rook had such a close relationship with his own mother; I couldn’t fathom what he might think of me if he heard that instead of helping my mother through her struggles, I found myself sometimes actively hoping for her demise.

“Last time I wore a suit was for court,” Rook said, coming out of the bathroom, yanking on his collar.

“It looks nice,” I told him, standing there in my robe with my hair in giant curlers.

“That’s a… look,” he said, smiling as his gaze tracked over me.

“I’m hoping this works,” I said, waving toward my head. “I haven’t tried curlers since I chopped all my hair off.”

“You had long hair?”

Whoops.

“Yeah. I cut it a few months back,” I told him, keeping my tone breezy. “Needed a change. But I probably should have gone with smaller rollers for shorter hair. Oh, well. Are you done in there?” I asked, nodding toward the bathroom.

“All yours.”

My dress was already hanging on the back of the door, enjoying the steam from both our showers, making sure all the wrinkles fell out.

I brought my makeup in with me and set to work on a subtle but elegant look before pulling my hair down and combing through it with my fingers until I had the loose waves I was going for.

I’d opted for no veil, choosing instead this gorgeous gold vine and star wedding headband.

By the time I slipped out of my bra, into a pair of nude undies, then into my dress, I was feeling surprisingly shaky.

There was nothing to be nervous about.

It wasn’t a real wedding.

Only, it was, wasn’t it?

Maybe, in our minds, it was only a piece of paper, a contract that worked for the two of us for different reasons.

But in the eyes of the law, we would be married.

I pressed a hand to my wobbly stomach and took a few steadying breaths before slipping into my sandals and then making my way out of the bathroom, expecting Rook.

But the apartment was empty.

For just a moment, my worry about his absence overtook my anxiety about the whole ordeal itself.

“Rook?” I called, glancing into the bedroom before making my way to the door and stepping out onto the top landing of the steps.

Then there he was.

Standing on the sidewalk with several of his club brothers.

It was Raff who noticed me first. He pressed one hand to his heart and shot me a soft look before patting Rook’s arm and gesturing toward me.

Feeling weird standing up there, I began my way down as Rook finally turned.

The look he shot me made my breath catch in my chest and my foot falter just above the next step down.

His gaze slid down, then back up, before I remembered to keep walking down.

Raff shoved Rook’s shoulder from behind. “Tell her how beautiful she looks before I do it for you.”

Rook shook his head and stepped forward to where I was standing on the last step, my skirt dancing around my ankles with the light breeze.

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head.

“You’ve seen me in it already,” I reminded him, belly flip-flopping at the awe still in his eyes.

“Not like this,” he said, reaching out to take my hand, his thumb teasing over the stone of my engagement ring as he helped me down the last stair. “You really do look beautiful,” he said, voice low, before leading me over toward his brothers. Still holding my hand.

“Prettiest bride ever,” Raff declared.

“You’re glowing,” Coach said.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Colter added.

My heart didn’t care that this was all for show. It skipped and swelled at the sweetness these men were showing me.

How different from the men I’d known before.

“The guys just wanted to show up and offer their well wishes. And gripes about not being able to come to the picnic,” Rook explained, nodding toward Raff at the last part.

“It sounds delightful,” Raff said, making a surprised laugh escape me.

I’d known a lot of bikers in my life. I’d never heard one use the word ‘delightful’ before. Then again, I’d never met a biker like Raff before, either.

“It really does,” I agreed.

“Yeah, happy for you. Not jealous at all,” Raff said, smushing his face up at me.

“You guys heading out now?” Colter asked.

“Yeah, we gotta get to the courthouse. The photographer wants to take some pictures before it gets busy.”

“Sorry we can’t come with,” Coach said. “But know we’re there in spirit.”

They genuinely seemed like they were upset they couldn’t be there. For a fake wedding. It was surprisingly sweet.

We said our goodbyes before slipping into my car and driving to the courthouse.

It wasn’t a grand one—just a long, low limestone building. But it did have a pretty nice staircase leading up to it that worked as a pretty backdrop for ‘OMG, we are gonna do this!’ pictures.

The photographer—a pint-sized, curly-haired redhead with hearts in her eyes—was full of compliments and instructions.

It was all just fine.

Until she requested a kissing picture.

I mean, yeah, I’d been bracing myself for more kissing. I knew it would have to happen after we said our vows. And maybe even for a few pictures after.

But the second she said it, desire flooded my system—unbidden, unwanted, uncontrollable.

My gaze shot up, finding Rook already watching me, something soft in his eyes that had my belly going liquid.

Then his hand was raising, snagging my chin, then leaning down for a soft kiss.

“That was cute!” Gigi, the photographer, called, snapping away. “But give me more passion!”

Rook’s hand went to the back of my neck, fingers digging in.

Then his lips were on me.

I forgot all about the people around, about our picture being taken, about contracts and vows.

All there was in the whole town, state, country, world was him, this, us.

Rook’s lips pressed harder against mine as I melted into him, my lips responding immediately, getting harder and hungrier with each passing moment.

His other arm slid around my lower back, pulling me flush against him.

A soft moan escaped me, making his fingers clench.

“That’s perfect!” Gigi called.

As sweet as she was, her voice was an ice bucket over my desire, making me see how carried away we were getting.

And there was no way either of us could claim it was just for show.

I pulled back, trying to think past the hormone haze. “Did you get enough? We should probably be getting in now,” I said.

“Of course. Yes. I think we are good. I’m sure I can get some good ones inside.”

“That’s being optimistic,” Rook said under his breath, having been inside the courthouse himself in the past.

And, well, he wasn’t wrong.

The inside of the building was all dated and dirty tile floors, dark wood, and grimy windows that barely let in any natural light.

Gigi grumbled to herself several times as she tried to get decent candid pictures of us as we waited in line before finally getting in front of the Justice of the Peace. He was a short, round, sullen man who clearly didn’t think much of marrying random strangers all day.

I felt a twinge of disappointment until Rook’s hand squeezed mine.

The Justice read off our vows in a droning voice. Rook repeated them with his voice a little more stilted than usual. When it was my turn, my damn voice shook. Almost as hard as the hand in his as he slid the ring up my finger.

When he was done, he gave my fingers a reassuring squeeze before it was my turn to exchange the ring.

It was a surreal thing to see it sitting there on his finger, a sign to the world that he belonged to someone.

But, of course, not really.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

My gaze shot up to Rook’s.

He shot me a soft smile, leaning down to press his forehead to mine for a second before sweetly pressing his lips to mine.

It was over in a blink.

But my heart felt like it had swelled twice its size as Rook took my hand and led me away as the next couple stepped up.

“I got the most gorgeous picture of the forehead touch. The way he was looking at you—swoon,” Gigi said, jogging to keep up with us as we walked out into the fresh air once again. “I mean, the lighting was horrific, but I can fix that in editing.”

“I’m sure it will be perfect,” I assured her, though I sounded as distracted as I felt. All of my focus was on the fact that Rook’s hand was still in mine and the strange pulsing warmth that spread up from the contact.

Not desire.

Something softer around the edges.

Affection?

“I will follow you guys to the picnic!” Gigi said, offering us a wave as she rushed off toward her car.

“You alright?” Rook asked, watching me.

“Yeah. Fine. You want to drive?” I asked, offering him the keys.

“Sure.” I could feel him still watching me, but I pretended to focus on rearranging the rings on my finger.

It was a short drive from the courthouse to the farm, and I was grateful for that as the awkwardness in the car swelled.

“Oh, wow,” I said with an exhale as, a few minutes later, we walked up to the picnic spot.

I was barely even aware of Gigi running backward in front of us to catch our reactions.

We’d let her go before us, taking all the shots she needed without us, so she was fully focused on our reactions as we took it all in.

It was everything I wanted. And more.

They’d set up an area twice the size I’d been expecting with a picnic area—complete with a tan and white gingham blanket, food, champagne, and the Edison lights I’d wanted. But there was also a set of old trees adorned with twinkle lights with a large rope hammock strung between, just inviting us to lay down and enjoy some quiet time together.

“Nicer than any picnic I’ve ever been to,” Rook said, nodding.

The women who’d set it all up had been waiting for us when we’d exited our cars, but had since driven off to give us privacy.

Well, privacy except for Gigi and her snapping.

“Just act like I’m not here,” she said as we made our way to the blanket, each of us kicking off our shoes before sitting down.

Music drifted over toward us—sweet, romantic songs that were somehow making me sad—as Rook popped the champagne, and I feigned surprise and delight as the bubbles shot out and dripped down his hand.

I didn’t have to fake the relief I felt at my first sip of the champagne, knowing it would take the edge off of my anxiety within a few moments.

“How about a linked arm sip?” Gigi asked, crouching down a foot away from the blanket.

Right.

The performance.

That was all this was about.

We linked arms and angled ourselves to take sips, which only managed to make my entire flute spill down my hand.

Then, I kid you not, Rook removed the flute, and lifted my hand and brought it to his mouth, using his lips to lap up the spilled liquid.

My heart fluttered in time with the camera shutter.

I knew when I looked up at Rook that the desire unfurling through my system was clear in my eyes.

His hand left mine, going behind my neck, pulling me close, and sealing his lips to mine again.

There was no stopping the little whimper that escaped me.

Rook’s other arm reached around me, curling around my lower back and pulling until I was up on my knees with him.

He anchored me to him, my chest crushed to his, and there was no stopping the way my hands went around the back of his neck, holding on as he kissed me deeper, as his teeth grazed my lower lip.

“Yes, perfect,” Gigi said, snapping away.

It was her voice that broke us apart.

“Got a little carried away there,” Rook said, actually looking a little bashful.

“You’re in love!” Gigi said, beaming at us. “How about a few of you feeding each other? Then maybe I can take some from above as you two look up at the lights.”

We spent the next hour or so following her instructions—and managing to eat a few actual bites of the food we’d ordered.

“Okay. How about the hammock before it gets too dark? We can’t miss that opportunity.”

Rook helped me to my feet as I looked dubiously at the hammock. “How am I supposed to get in that in this dress?”

“I guess we sit first,” Rook said, lowering himself onto the ropes.

I followed his lead as Gigi took more pictures.

“Okay. Cuddling now,” she demanded.

I sucked in a steadying breath, knowing that as much as the kissing created wildfires in my system, the moments of soft intimacy seemed the most dangerous for me. Because it wasn’t just physical.

But with Gigi waiting expectantly, Rook lowered onto his back, his one arm cocked under his neck. The other was wide, waiting for me to curl up next to him.

Having no choice, I moved to his side, feeling his arm curl around me and pull me up onto his chest.

I was vaguely aware of Gigi moving over to rearrange my skirts more aesthetically, but all I could focus on was his strong body beneath me, his arm around me, his heartbeat under my ear.

I knew as Gigi started to take pictures again that she was catching genuine wonder on my face as Rook just… held me.

Though, I was sure she might also catch the look of utter heartbreak a second later as a sobering realization crossed my mind.

I’d never been held before.

Not by my own mother.

Not by friends.

And certainly never by a man.

Feeling the wetness flooding my eyes, I squeezed them shut.

I wasn’t sure if Rook was just playing it up for the camera, or if maybe he heard the little sniffling sound I made, but both his arms went around me, squeezing tight. A second later, his lips pressed down on the top of my head.

At some point, Gigi stopped clicking. And a while after that, I got the strange feeling that maybe we were alone.

“You alright?” Rook asked, his voice vibrating through his chest.

“Yeah.” Not remotely.

“Babe…”

“I’m fine,” I tried again, yet somehow even less convincingly.

“There’s no one here but me.”

“Where’s Gigi?”

“She headed out a bit back. What’s going on? You regretting this?”

“No. No, that’s not it,” I said.

“Then what is it?” he asked, his hand sliding up my back to slip into my hair.

My defenses were too low to lie convincingly. But maybe a half-truth would suffice.

“I think I just really needed a hug,” I told him, cringing at my own words.

I don’t know what I expected in response to that. Silence, maybe. Or, if my past was any indication, mocking.

Instead, Rook’s arm squeezed me tighter again. “Me too,” he admitted.

His fingers went to my scalp, doing those little circles that had me both simultaneously relaxing and coming alive with a slow, unfurling sort of desire.

It was my damn growling stomach that ruined the moment.

“Yeah,” Rook agreed. I could hear the smile in his voice. “What did we each get? Three bites?”

Then he was folding up and I had no choice but to move with him.

The disappointment at the moment lost stuck with me as we drank more champagne and picked at the grazing boards of food.

The night grew darker around us, but with our little light being powered by a small solar generator hidden behind some aesthetic piled baskets, we could see what we were doing as we started to clean up the food.

I figured we were seconds away from getting up and walking back to the car.

But out of nowhere, Rook’s hands sank into my hips.

Then he pulled me to straddle his lap.