Becoming Mrs. Lockwood Read online

  Were we to return to his home, where he would bed me and hang the sheet out the window to prove my innocence and that I was his property?

  My innocence . . . crap. I hadn’t told him yet, not that we really had reached that conversation anyway. He didn’t know I was untouched goods, that I remained intact. I’d fooled around with guys, sure, but it had never gone that far. Now, I was going to be shacked up with an older man who was sure to be much more oriented in that area, and might very well be expecting me to be as well once we were alone.

  “Are you okay?” Weston asked, shaking me from my inner turmoil.

  “I think I was just sold to you for two sheep,” I replied with a sigh.

  He tried not to laugh, but a chuckle came out anyway.

  “You’ll need this back, Mrs. Lockwood,” he said with a smile. It was shy, but full of joy. He pulled the ring out from his pocket. “Not quite two sheep. Actually, quite a bit more.”

  He took my hand in his, much like I was certain he did the night before, and slid the ring onto my finger.

  Weston left a moment later to give us time to talk and pack, but we agreed to meet up at eleven in the lobby.

  “Mom, are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked once he was gone.

  My nerves were shot, and I wasn’t sure I could leave. Could I really go with a stranger, to a strange place, thousands of miles away from the only home I’ve ever known? Leave everything behind from my life?

  Just thinking about it put me on the edge of a panic attack.

  “Yes and no. If you had come to me and said you wanted to get married, I would have tried to talk you out of it. But this spur of the moment behavior is so unlike you that I have to believe it’s fate!” Her face lit up again as she spoke.

  “But I don’t even know him!” A tear leaked out and slid down my cheek.

  “Oh, baby. You’ll get to know him. I see the spark between you two.”

  “I can’t believe we let you talk us into this.” I shook my head as another tear trickled slowly down my cheek.

  Her arms wrapped around me and hugged me tight. “Wren, it was only too easy, because you both want it. If you didn’t, you’d be coming home with me. Give it a try, an honest try, and if things don’t work out, you can be on the first flight back to Indianapolis. You’ll always have a home with me. Please know that, sweetheart.”

  “Okay.” I was shaking with fear, scared out of my mind of the unknown.

  Pulling back, I looked into my mother’s pretty face. She saw the tears running down my cheeks and smiled softly before wiping them away with a gentle brush of her fingers like she always did.

  Leaving my mom, my school, my friends, and my home. It was all too much.

  “Aw, honey, it will be okay, you’ll see. Just remember, I love you.”

  I packed up my suitcase and backpack after taking a much-needed, calming shower, and we headed down to the lobby to meet my . . . husband. Weston was waiting for us, suitcases in tow, smiling as we approached. I hugged my mother tight, whispering that I loved her and to make sure Mike fed my beta fish.

  “Call me for anything,” she said as she cupped my face in her hands. I nodded and gave her a small smile.

  We waved goodbye as she headed down to the casino before leaving for home. I could tell she was trying not to cry as she walked away.

  We stood there for a moment watching her go, realizing this was it. We were going to his home together, leaving Vegas as husband and wife. What the hell was I going to tell my friends?

  “So . . .” He reached out and slid his hand into mine. “Are we ready?”

  I turned and smiled up at him as best I could. “As we’ll ever be.”

  He linked his fingers with mine as our bags were loaded onto a luggage cart. Pulling me to him, he wrapped his arm around my waist.

  “Let’s go home,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of my head.

  Leaving the hotel, we headed out to embark on our new life together.

  The electricity from the excitement my mother stirred up had waned, and we were left with silence as we left Las Vegas and headed down the highway to Los Angeles, where Weston lived, in his car. The music was on low, and it lightened the mood a bit.

  “Am I the only one who thinks this is the most awkward moment?” Weston’s smooth voice spoke, breaking the heavy silence and my deep thoughts.

  “Nope,” I said, popping the “p” at the end.

  “Which is strange, because we were both so comfortable with each other yesterday.”

  “That was yesterday . . . before we got married,” I reminded him.

  His head hung and he let out a sigh, looking at me cautiously out of the corner of his eye.

  “Never, in a million years, did I ever expect to come home from a business trip in Vegas as a married man.” He shook his head. “Fuck.”

  “Why am I going with you?” I asked, yet again.

  “Because your mom has some serious voodoo,” he noted with a humorless chuckle.

  I nodded. “I still can’t believe she convinced us this was a good idea.”

  “Hmm . . . part of me says this is the stupidest idea ever,” he said. My body slumped further into the plush leather seats. “But, then part of me wonders if she’s right.”

  A part of me wondered as well, but it didn’t quell the twisting in my stomach and the vibration in my veins. Leaving for college was supposed to be my big moment of independence, but suddenly I was completely dependent on a man I didn’t even know. That alone scared the shit out of me.

  “I don’t . . . I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. Especially to you, a person I barely know.”

  “You’re not a burden, Wren. Please, don’t say that. I really, really enjoyed yesterday.” His hand reached out to take mine.

  It was warm, and its heat spread through my whole body, comforting me.

  “But this is not how you saw your drive home.”

  “No, it’s not. It is what it is, however. So, we’ll make do. I’m willing to . . . try,” he reassured me.

  “So, what now?” I asked as we relaxed a bit.

  “Well . . .” He sighed. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “I was supposed to return to school tomorrow.”

  “Fuck . . . school,” he groaned.

  “How . . . how long should I wait to change my name?” I asked, realizing we didn’t fully understand everything that went into staying married. “I don’t even know how we do this.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “I . . . it probably would be best to do that as soon as possible. Tomorrow. If anything were to happen to you, they would need to contact me. So, you’ll need a new social security card, a license. We’ll need to enroll you in school . . .”

  “What about just getting my GED?”

  “It’s best to have a diploma. I know USC already accepted you, but it really is best,” he said and began mumbling to himself before he pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Call Julia.”

  “Calling Julia,” an automated voice said through the speakers.

  A ring of the phone was followed by a feminine voice. “Hi, Wes. Enjoy your trip?”

  He let out a little chuckle and glanced at me. “Yes, I did. In fact, I’m going to be home in just over an hour, and I need you to be there. We’ll talk then.”

  “Aye aye, captain. I’ll be there.”

  There was a click of the call ending, and the music resumed. “Who was that?”

  “My assistant.”

  “You have an assistant?”

  He turned and smirked at me. “I have three, and Julia, my head assistant, also has an assistant.”

  The blood drained from my face. What had I gotten myself into?

  “I suddenly feel ill,” I said and leaned over. “What do you do? I don’t even know what line of work my husband is in!”

  He eyed me and grimaced. “I’m a movie producer.”

  I stared at him in a wide-eyed mixture
of surprise and horror. “What?”

  “I’m in the movie industry.”

  It all started to make some sense. From the money, to people practically tripping over themselves to help him. I thought it was just his good looks, but it was more.

  “Oh my God. Just . . . take me straight to the airport. Do whatever you need to do and send me the papers. I’ll sign them,” I rambled. A movie producer? There was just no way it was going to work.

  “What? Why?”

  “That is a high profile life . . .” I shook my head and my shoulders drew up, my body reacting as my brain tried to form words. “I’m just an Indiana girl, Weston. I’m not cut out for that kind of life.”

  “You don’t even know what kind of life I have or what yours will be like,” he said, trying to defuse me.

  “It involves lots of money and possibly fame, I can tell that much.”

  “And you have an aversion to those?” he asked, his brow hitching up. It was one of those looks like he was expecting to see that I had two heads.

  I nodded my head vigorously. “Yes.”

  “You’re a strange girl. Aren’t you supposed to be wanting to be Kim Kardashian?” he asked.

  “I’d rather be the barista at Starbucks,” I grumbled with a roll of my eyes.

  “Huh.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Okay, so I think it’s best that we don’t share a bedroom right away. Agreed?” I turned to stare at him with wide eyes. “Temporary, of course.”

  I shook my head again. “Airport.”

  He continued on, ignoring me. “I have a very nice bedroom next to mine you could use. It’s fully furnished, but if you don’t like it, we can get whatever you want.”

  “I don’t want you spending money on me, and I thought we were headed to the airport.”

  “Nope. Wren Lockwood, we’re going to give this a go,” he said, grinning like a fool and ignoring my aversions.

  I glared at him. “I don’t like you so much right now. Can we go back to five minutes ago when you were almost agreeing with me?”

  He continued on as if he hadn’t heard me, yet again. “You’ll need a car. We can shop for one of those this weekend.”

  “No.” Going to USC was supposed to be the big change in my life. Something I could plan and prepare for mentally. A spur-of-the-moment wedding, tied to someone I didn’t know, sent the adrenaline running through me into a nervous humming. My knee began to bounce.

  “And, we can change any of the furniture you don’t like.”

  I sighed, finally giving in. “The furniture will be perfectly fine. And I don’t need a car.”

  “You’ll need a car to get around.”

  “I’ll need a job . . .” I grumbled, then sat straight up in my seat. “My job!” I was scheduled for a shift the next night.

  “You don’t need a job. I can set you up an account to use.”

  His money? I didn’t know much about cars, but I knew that the one we were in probably cost more than the house I lived in. Which meant he had more than I could even imagine.

  But I’d been working part time since I was sixteen, using my own money to pay for things I wanted.

  I shook my head. “I’m not spending your money.”

  “Yes, you are, Wren.”

  “We don’t even know each other! How are you making these types of financial decisions?” Frustrated tears filled my eyes as the bouncing of my leg sped up.

  He smiled softly and reached out to place his hand on mine, which was fisted on my thigh. “Because you’re my wife, and I’m going to take care of you.”

  “Even though, you haven’t had any of the . . . benefits of a wife?” I asked quietly, averting my eyes from him to look out the window.

  He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “We’ll get to that.”

  I tilted my head back against the headrest, then turned to look at him. “We can just have this annulled, is what we can do.”

  “Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore. Follow my yellow brick road, and you’ll be fine.” His eyes were bright, amusement dancing in them as he smiled at me.

  I narrowed my gaze on him. “I’m not sure I like the Wizard of Oz analogy.” Though I definitely wasn’t in Kansas—or Indiana—anymore.

  “Like it or not, it’s you and me, baby girl. We’re in this mess together. No running back to Indianapolis. Your mom was right, I asked you to marry me. I may have been drunk, but I meant it. I spent nearly fifty grand on your ring, so I know I meant it.”

  “What?” My voice came out in a shrill screech, my gaze moving down to the diamond situated on my left ring finger. It was big, huge, maybe even enormous by diamond standards, but fifty grand?

  “That ring is from Tiffany’s. The name alone costs.”

  I shifted in my seat to face him. “I can’t wear it in school!”

  “We can get you a chain, if you like, and you can wear it around your neck.”

  “Why are you doing all this?” I asked, defeat filling me.

  “Because, as much as I do agree with you, and as much as I know how ludicrous this is, my gut wants to agree with your mom. Don’t you feel the same? I won’t force you, Wren. You do have free will . . . with the exception of the money acceptance. I guess . . . I just got caught up in the idea,” he explained, deflating near the end. “In my fantasy.”

  “It’s not that,” I spoke softly, “I . . . I’m caught up in the idea, but I’m scared shitless.” I swallowed thickly, fighting back the fear and uncertainty. “A stranger, in a strange land, with no inkling of home?” My heart was aching, chest tight, thinking about all of the things I took for granted.

  “How about we just take it one day at a time?” he said. His fingers laced into mine and he began rubbing gentle circles on my thumb.

  I took a deep, settling breath. “I think I can handle that.”

  “Good, because . . . welcome home, Mrs. Lockwood,” he said with a smirk.

  I didn’t realize we’d stopped, and my gaze moved to the vision in front of us. My eyes widened as I looked incredulously at the sight before me.

  It didn’t matter how much I made over my lifetime, one glance told me I’d never make enough money to pay for the home that lay in front of us.

  Holy shit.

  I was in way over my head.

  Walking into Weston’s . . . our . . . home was like walking into a different world. The place was huge. And spotless. It reminded me of the display homes in the new neighborhoods that Mom always liked to look at, or a magazine portraying homes of the rich and famous. There was no clutter, not a speck of dust, nothing. It was hard to find personal items, just a few pictures hanging on the wall. Otherwise, it held a museum-like feel to it. I almost wondered where the film crew for MTV’s Cribs was hiding.

  “Kitchen is here, living room is through that way,” he said, pointing toward the large arched hole in the wall. We walked through, Weston mapping out the layout with hand gestures. It was a lot to take in, and I knew it would just take some exploring on my own to really understand it all.

  He halted when we neared the stairway, and I almost ran into him.

  “I didn’t think you were here yet,” he said.

  I looked around him to find a very pretty woman wearing a pencil skirt, a short sleeved sweater, and heels.

  I felt very underdressed for my surroundings.

  “I snuck in through the front just to scare you,” she said with a smile. Her gaze was soft, and she looked friendly.

  “Hmm, nice try. I did jump, just a tiny bit. Imperceptible with the human eye,” he teased back.

  “Bring back a souvenir, Wes?” she asked with a hint of amusement in her voice, her gaze flickering to me.

  He let out a nervous laugh. I knew he hadn’t thought about how we were going to handle telling people what we were, and neither had I. Hell, I spent the entire car ride from Vegas trying to convince him to take me to the airport. Scared and overwhelmed were just two aspects of my upheaved mental state.


  “Julia, I need you to make a list, and have a seat while you do it,” he said.

  He grabbed on to my hand as we moved into what I assumed was more of a formal living room.

  I expected Julia to have a questioning look on her face, speculation clear in her features, but there was nothing but compliance and a soft smile. I watched her gaze at where our hands were connected and, surprisingly, she seemed to like it.

  Settling on the couch, she opened up her laptop and waited for Weston to begin. Releasing my hand, he began to pace a bit, stopping every few feet to look at Julia.

  “First off, I need you to make an appointment with Reggy as soon as possible.” Weston tugged at his hair. “I can’t stand this anymore. It’s way too long.”

  I was a bit sad when I realized he was talking about a haircut. It was just so inviting, and I hadn’t gotten to really tug on it. Not that I thought that might happen anytime soon. Well, I supposed it could happen. We were already married, after all.

  “I also need a credit card on one of my accounts, as soon as possible, in the name of Wren Lockwood,” he said, his eyes never leaving Julia.

  Her hands stopped typing and she looked up at him, then to me, before moving down to her phone and back up to Weston. They stared at one another for a moment before Julia suddenly dove for the phone that lay between them, her hand wrapping around the plastic and glass. But Weston had also gone after it, his hand occupying the other end.

  “No!” he cried vehemently, trying to pull the phone from her hand.

  “I can’t lie to him, Weston!” Julia protested.

  I watched as the two wrestled for it, both trying to pry it away. It was an odd exchange, one that I was not expecting. Words poured forth as they struggled for control: it’s mine, no, don’t, he’s my fiancé, etc. Weston eventually won out and stuffed it in his pocket, away from Julia’s grasp.

  “I live with him. How am I supposed to keep this from him?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell him, really, I just . . . have to figure out what to say,” Weston said, his hand tugging at his locks in what I was now noticing to be a nervous fidget.

  “I’ll give you till the end of the day to explain this to him. I will not crawl into bed with your brother tonight with this”—her hands gestured between Weston and me—“hanging over my head.”