“Yeah, and onto your back,” Charity insisted.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” was Eve’s opinion. “My mother-in-law is going to shart herself. Both her precious sons eloping in the same year. I hope like hell you and Rhett know what you’re doing.”

Not a clue. But fake it till you make it. “I’m not going to worry about it. None of it. People’s opinions don’t matter when you’re happy.” She almost choked on her own cheesiness, but she forced it out.

“And when it all goes south, you just get divorced. No biggie,” Charity said cheerfully.

Her thought exactly, which suddenly made her sad. Was she cynical about relationships? She hadn’t thought so, but maybe she was. Her own father was a douchebag, and her flaky mother had run through a string of lousy boyfriends over the years, so maybe Shawn had gotten used to looking at relationships with expiration dates on them. Was it so impossible to think that marriage could last? Eve and Nolan had started off with an impulsive and improbable beginning, and they seemed quite happy.

“Don’t be a Debbie Downer,” Harley told her twin.

Eve looked torn. “I want to be supportive. I do. I mean, damn it, you’re right. Was it really that different with me and Nolan? But . . . you and Rhett? For real? He’s such a demanding brat.” She leaned forward on her elbows, studying Shawn carefully. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” she said truthfully, because she was. She was scared. Nervous. But she was happy. Hamby Speedway was still hers and she was going to make a success out of it. That was all she had ever wanted. She was also going to have an orgasm, or multiple ones, in a week or so. Rhett looked like he could put some air in her tires, and she was looking forward to that. So, yeah. She was actually good, now that she thought about it, even as fears and moral implications stewed in the back of her brain. “And I don’t think he’s a brat at all.” Demanding, perhaps. But he was always very honest and straightforward, and she respected that.

“Rhett looks pretty damn happy, too,” Charity said, pointing to the doorway. “Here he comes with Nolan.”

What? Shawn twisted toward where Charity was gesturing. Yep. That was Rhett, looking sexy as hell in his wedding jeans, which cupped his buns quite nicely, she might add. Nolan, whose nostrils were flaring in agitation, walked in behind him. What the hell were they doing there?

“I would say ‘smug’ is a better word for it,” Eve said. “Rhett does smug well.”

That he did. Shawn felt the now-familiar rapid heartbeat and hardening of the nipples she experienced whenever Rhett was around her. It was something about that expression he wore . . . not just the confidence he exhibited, but the way he made her feel, that he was looking at her, and only her, that made smug sexy.

But what he was doing strolling into La Ranchita was a mystery. She should have known he had a reason for asking specifically where she was going.

It made her uneasy.

Yet he was giving her a smile. He raised his hand in greeting and peeled off his coat as he approached their table. He leaned over and kissed her possessively on the mouth. Without missing a beat, he turned and asked the table at large, “Did Shawn tell y’all the news?”

Nolan was shaking his head as he gestured for the hostess to bring them two more chairs. “I would say so, given the looks on their faces.”

“Did you seriously marry my oldest friend in the middle of a Friday afternoon six days after meeting her?” Eve asked. “Because I just want to be clear about what I’m hearing.”

“I did.” With a smile for her, Rhett took the chair the hostess brought over. “Thank you, ma’am, appreciate it.” He nudged it in alongside Shawn, so that when he sat down, his leg was nice and snug against hers. “And there wasn’t even any alcohol involved.”

Just a legal contract and serious greenbacks. But never mind that. Shawn took another swallow of her margarita, then instantly regretted it, remembering the saying about tequila and clothes falling off. She didn’t need to lose her drawers and the bet tonight. It was a situation she had very little control over, this whole business with the track. So the bottom line was, she wanted to delude herself into thinking she had some kind of control over Rhett. By proving she could hold out on sex.

Yeah. This was all just brilliant.

“For the first time in her life, my wife is speechless,” Nolan said wryly as he sat down next to Eve on her free side. “But I guess congratulations are in order, Shawn. I have to say I’m more than a little surprised, but who am I to stand in the way of true love?”

There might be more than a little sarcasm in his voice, but Shawn chose to ignore it. If Charity or Harley had strolled in and announced they were married to a man they had just met, she was sure her reaction would be similar to the ones they were being given.

“Thanks, bro,” Rhett said. “Now I think you should buy me a drink.”

“I can do that. Anyone else?” Nolan asked. “This round is on me.”

“That’s it?” Eve asked. “That’s all you’re going to say? Your brother marries a total stranger, and you offer to buy him a drink?”

“I’m a total stranger?” Shawn asked, indignant at Eve’s choice of words.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. It’s not like you don’t know I’m a decent person. What do you need to protect Rhett from, exactly?”

“Yeah, it’s not like she’s a gold digger,” Nolan joked. “Rhett doesn’t have a pot to piss in.”

Next to her, she felt Rhett shift uncomfortably. “Way to sell me, Nolan, thanks.”

“What? You’re already married. You were smart enough to lock her in before she figures out all your faults.”

Eve laughed. Her husband grinned at her.

Shawn wasn’t particularly amused. Rhett didn’t look like he was enjoying the stand-up comedy routine either. He was frowning, and when the waitress asked him if he would like a drink, he ordered a double shot of tequila. Holy firewater, amigo. Shawn looked at him in amazement.

“Maybe you shouldn’t order that,” Eve told him. “You don’t want whiskey dick on your wedding night. Or technically, tequila dick. But that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

She and Nolan both laughed again, enjoying their little shared humor at Shawn’s husband’s expense. She had to say, she did not care for that one bit. “That’s not a problem for my husband,” she said, and damned if she didn’t sound like one pissed-off wife, legit.

Everyone else must have agreed because Eve’s laughter cut off and Charity was staring at her wide-eyed.

“It was a joke,” Eve told her. “Truth be told, I don’t give any thought to your husband’s dick.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Nolan said.

“Are we having fun yet?” Charity asked, holding up the basket. “Chip, anyone?”

“I’ll take some,” Shawn said, reaching in and grabbing a massive fistful. She suddenly felt the urge to stuff her face before she said something that was rude and uncalled for to her friends.

Rhett’s hand squeezed the top of her thigh. He leaned in close to her and murmured, “Thanks for defending my prowess, babe. I appreciate it.”

She made the mistake of turning to look at him. He was closer than she realized, his mouth inches from hers. “Well, I can’t have people talking smack about my husband.”

Then she jammed a chip into her mouth to combat the salivating desire to kiss him in La Ranchita.

His hand came up and cupped her cheek. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he told her earnestly.

A warm wet pool of desire formed deep inside her. Did he have to be so sexy?

Harley coughed next to her. When Shawn looked up, she saw four faces staring at them, with varying expressions, ranging from horror (Eve) to envy (Charity).

“Is that your wedding ring?” Harley asked as Shawn reached for her margarita. The diamond band was glaringly obvious in the multicolored lights of the fiesta décor.

“Yes, it is. Isn’t it beautiful?” That wasn’t an exaggeration. It was a stunning ring, delicate and vintage-inspired. Oddly enough, she didn’t think she would have chosen it for herself, yet it fit her perfectly. She liked that it wasn’t showy or attention-demanding. It was something her grandmother would have worn, which made her feel a little melancholy. Her grandmother had died when Shawn was twenty, and she and Pops had enjoyed a fifty-year marriage.

The thought of their love and commitment had her reaching for her margarita again.

“It’s gorgeous,” Harley agreed. “Rhett, did you pick that out?”

“Yes. It just looked like it would suit Shawn.”

“Are you going to have a reception or anything?” Charity asked.

“We’re having a party, not a full-blown reception. On Valentine’s Day,” Rhett told her.

As he spoke, his hand covered hers, his finger stroking over the wedding band with a clear display of possessiveness that made her uncomfortable. What was he doing here, by the way?

“If you need any help, let us know,” Nolan said mildly, like it was perfectly natural for any of this to be happening. “We have the race on Sunday, obviously, but V-Day is Wednesday this year, so I can help you out on Monday and Tuesday.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Rhett looked genuinely touched by his brother’s support.

Shawn pictured this evening times ten at a wedding reception on Valentine’s Day, of all days, paper hearts and doilies barfed all over her house, congratulations, curious stares, and the knowledge that she was a massive fraud, and she just wanted to get drunk.

But when she reached for her margarita, Rhett actually moved it out of her reach. “What are you doing?” She stretched further, and he put his hand over hers to stop her progress.

“I just did a double shot of tequila. I think you should drive us home, not me.”

Was he fucking kidding her? “I didn’t tell you to take a shot!” And what was this about going home anyway? Whose home? She had fully intended to spend tonight alone with her rabbit. The vibrating kind, not the furry kind.

“But I did. So would you mind driving us home?”

His tone was even, but his eyes said something she didn’t understand. Shawn felt confused, miserable, and in desperate need of an orgasm. If she said yes, she did mind, she would just sound petulant. Besides, she probably shouldn’t argue with her fake husband on her wedding-night outing with friends. It would look a little sketchy.

“Of course I don’t mind.” Big. Fat. Lie. “Though I guess we should discuss these things right off the bat, shouldn’t we?”

“Communication is key to a successful marriage,” Charity said confidently.

“How the hell would you know?” Eve asked. “You’re not married.”

“So?”

They started to argue, and Shawn sat back, glad the spotlight was off her. An hour later, she was more than ready to leave and massage her cheeks out of their lockjaw from fake smiling.

But of course, that presented a different set of issues. Rhett held her coat out for her, and when she slipped her arms into it, he said, “Just let me get my bag out of Nolan’s truck, then we can go.”

He really was coming with her, and she couldn’t ask him what the hell he thought he was doing in front of everyone else. That it was manipulative and rude.

After hugging her friends and smiling and waving in the parking lot, she climbed into her car and wished for death. It would be preferable to this bullshit. Why had she thought she could do this?

This was the stupidest, most ill-conceived plan ever on the face of the planet, and she was going to be struck by lightning and die for lying to her closest friends. Either that or end up in prison after murdering Rhett. A girl was entitled to her cocktail, thank you very much, and if he valued his junk, in the future he would not do that. It was patronizing and it pissed her off.

She was going to have to establish some ground rules.

He got in the passenger seat and smiled at her. “That went well.”

Why did his smile disarm her anger? Maybe because he didn’t really smile all that often. When he did, she felt . . . special. Gag. The tension was causing her to lose it. “Not really.”

“I’m not really sure it could have gone any differently. All things considered, everyone reacted pretty calmly.”

Whatever. “Why did you show up there? And why are you in my car? You could at least give me a little warning, you know.” So she could have been somewhere else.

Rhett just gave her a very calm, very matter-of-fact shrug. “Because you would have tried to talk me out of it. Or you would have gotten way too nervous waiting for me to show up. And the truth is, no one was going to believe this marriage is real if we didn’t go home together tonight. What bride and groom don’t want to be together on their wedding night?”