The Maverick's Accidental Bride (Montana Mavericks: What Happened At The Wedding Book 1) (Contemporary Cowboy Romance) Read online

  But then he heard the painful sounds coming from the bathroom.

  “Huh?” he said again. Apparently, he wasn’t alone. There was someone in the bathroom. Someone being sick.

  “Ugh.” Still only half-awake, he raked the sleep-scrambled hair off his forehead. His gaze skimmed past the bedside chair—and then homed right back in on it.

  His clothes from last night were tossed in a wad across that chair. On top of them, the hem drooping toward the floor, lay a pretty blue dress topped by a woman’s small sparkly purse and a wilted red bouquet. Will shut his eyes as the heaving noises continued in the other room.

  But then, well, keeping his eyes shut wouldn’t make the sounds from the bathroom go away. So he opened them again—opened them and let them track lower, to the foot of the chair and the pair of sexy, sparkly, red-soled blue bridesmaid’s shoes that had toppled sideways beneath the filmy hem of the blue dress.

  Will knew that dress, those shoes, that bouquet...

  Jordyn?

  Jordyn Leigh Cates, in the bathroom? Sweet Jordyn Leigh, in his hotel room without her dress on? Little Jordyn Leigh...had spent the night in his bed?

  He clapped his hands to his head again and tried to think it through.

  Okay, he remembered spending the afternoon and evening with her yesterday. They’d had a great time.

  But what had happened later? How did they get here to his hotel room together?

  Damned if he could remember.

  He threw back the covers and saw he was wearing only boxer briefs. Did that mean...?

  Damn it all to hell. He had no idea what it meant.

  And poor Jordyn. The sounds coming from the bathroom were not good.

  He jumped to his feet and whipped his black jeans out from under her pretty blue dress. He was pulling them on as he hopped to the bathroom door. Zipping up fast, he gave the door a cautious tap. “Jordyn, are you—?”

  She let out a low groan, a sound of purest misery. “Leave me alone, Will. Don’t you dare come in here.”

  “Let me—”

  “No! Stay there. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  His head drooped forward until his forehead met the door. Jordyn Leigh? He’d had sex with little Jordyn Leigh? He wanted to beat the crap out of himself. Her younger brother, Brody, probably would beat the crap out of him—and he would deserve every punch. And what about her parents, who were good friends with his parents? Dear God, he should be tied down spread-eagled in the noonday sun for the buzzards to peck to a million pieces. “Jordyn, I’m so sor—”

  “Go away, Will!”

  He raised his knuckles to knock again—but then just let them drop. “Uh. Just call. If you need me...”

  She didn’t bother to answer him that time. The heaving sounds continued.

  He stood there, undecided, wanting to help, not knowing how. And that made him feel even more like a low-down dirty dog, because he couldn’t help and he knew it.

  And he had no business just standing there, his head against the door, listening to her being sick.

  So he dragged his sorry ass back to his side of the tangled bed and sat on the edge of it. He braced his elbows on his spread knees and let his head hang low in shame.

  And that was when he spotted the document on the floor.

  “Huh?” He picked it up.

  Then, for a long time, several minutes at least, he just stared at the damn thing in stunned disbelief.

  But it didn’t matter how long he stared, the document didn’t magically become something else. Uh-uh. No matter how long he stared, it was still a marriage license, complete with the embossed seal of the county clerk declaring it a true certified copy.

  The county clerk...

  Last night there was a guy, wasn’t there? A little guy in black-rimmed glasses. Yeah. Elton or Eldred, something like that. And the little guy was married to that big woman, the judge...

  Will blinked hard and shook his head. It didn’t seem possible. He had zero recollection of any actual ceremony. But still. He was reasonably sure the county clerk had been there last night, the county clerk and his wife, the judge.

  So it could have happened. It was possible...

  More than possible.

  Because he held the proof right there in his two hands.

  Around about then, he spotted the gleam of gold on the third finger of his left hand. Or maybe that gleam was brass. He couldn’t be sure.

  But gold or brass, the ring looked a hell of a lot like a wedding band. And that signature on the marriage license? Definitely his own. His—and Jordyn’s, too.

  It wasn’t possible. But it had happened.

  Somehow, he and Jordyn Leigh had gotten married last night.

  Chapter Two

  Will heard a click when Jordyn opened the bathroom door.

  He set the marriage license on the nightstand by his side of the bed and slowly rose, turning to face the woman he’d apparently married the night before.

  Jordyn Leigh stood in the doorway. Her big blue eyes had dark shadows beneath them. Her peaches-and-cream skin looked slightly green, and her soft mouth trembled.

  She’d put on the complimentary terry-cloth robe that had been hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Her hands were stuck in the pockets, and she kept her head pulled in, like a turtle trying to retreat into its shell. Her wheat-gold hair lay smooth and wavy across her shoulders. She must have used his comb before opening the door and facing him at last.

  The sight of all that shining hair made him feel worse than ever. It sent random images of her, scenes from their shared past, sparking and flashing through his brain.

  He saw her as a toddler with wispy yellow curls, running through the sprinklers in her front yard, wearing a bright orange bathing suit that tended to sag around her little bottom. And then he saw her in pigtails and busted-out jeans at nine or ten, astride one of the Traub horses.

  And the night of her prom...

  He couldn’t recall why he’d dropped by the Cates’s place that night, but he did remember Jordyn Leigh, her hand on the banister, slowly descending the front hall stairs, wearing a pink satin dress, her hair piled up high, held in place with sparkling rhinestone clips.

  She was such a sweet thing. She deserved so much better than this.

  He cleared his throat. “Jordyn, I—”

  But she whipped a hand free of a pocket and held it up to him, palm out. “I’m getting dressed right now, Will Clifton,” she muttered through hard-clenched teeth. “I’m getting dressed and going back to the boardinghouse. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never tell a soul about this.”

  Okay, he might be a low-down skunk for...whatever had happened last night, but she ought to know him better than that. “Jordyn, I would never—”

  “Hush!” She raised her chin high and smacked the air between them with her palm. “Don’t, okay? Just don’t.” And then she gathered the robe closer at the neck. She did that with her left hand. He saw she wore no ring. But before he had time to consider what that might mean, she hunched into herself again and made a beeline for the chair and that blue bridesmaid’s dress.

  He moved fast, skirting the end of the bed, to intercept her before she reached the chair. “Jordyn, wait.”

  Folding her arms protectively around herself, she glared up at him. “Out of my way, Will.” Her breath smelled of toothpaste.

  He felt another stab of mingled guilt and regret as he pictured her brushing her teeth in the bathroom mirror with her finger and a dab of toothpaste, trying to gather her dignity around her, trying to be strong. He told her gently, “Before you go, we need to talk.”

  “Talking with you is the last thing I need.” She tried to dodge around him.

  But he caught her by the shoulders. “Hey, com
e on...”

  “Let me go, Will.” Her slim arms felt so delicate, so vulnerable, in his grip.

  “Damn it, you’re shaking.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You are not.”

  “Am, too.” She shook all the harder. He wanted to gather her close, but he feared that putting his arms around her would only freak her out all the more.

  They had to discuss this reasonably, with cool heads. But she looked so sick and frantic. He was afraid if he sprung the big news that they somehow got married on her right then, she might just drop to the rug in a dead faint.

  Or maybe she already knew they were married. Maybe she remembered what had actually happened...

  But they would get to that. First, he needed to settle her down, maybe get some food into her.

  She jerked in his grip. “Damn you, Will Clifton. You let me go.”

  But he didn’t release her. Instead, he turned her and walked her backward to the bed. “I mean it, Jordyn Leigh. You need to sit down before you fall down.” He gave her a gentle push.

  And what do you know? Her knees gave out and she sank to the side of the bed. “Oh, dear Lord...” Her fake bravado deserted her. She let her shoulders slump and buried her head in her hands. “Oh, Will. What’s going on? I don’t remember...I don’t...”

  “Shh, settle down,” he soothed. “Come on, put your feet up on the bed. Put your head on the pillow. Just, you know, rest a little, take it easy, okay?” Damned if she didn’t do what he said for once. Obedient as the child she kept insisting she wasn’t, she swung her feet up and stretched out. “Good,” he whispered, and pulled up the covers nice and cozy around her. “Water?”

  Blue eyes wide and worried, she bit her lip and nodded. He got a bottle of water from the minifridge. She sat up, and he propped the pillows behind her as she sipped.

  “I’m thinking aspirin and room service first,” he suggested. “Then we talk.”

  She gulped down more water. “Okay,” she said in a tiny voice. “I could use some aspirin. And you’re right. We should probably talk.”

  * * *

  When the food came, Will served her in the bed.

  Jordyn managed to get some dry toast and tea down, along with the aspirin. He moved their clothing from the chair to the sofa in the sitting area. Then he sat in the chair with his tray on his lap, shoveling in eggs, bacon, potatoes and a muffin, along with several cups of excellent Maverick Manor Blend coffee. By the third cup, he was feeling almost human.

  Neither of them said much of anything while they ate. She avoided his gaze as she sipped her tea and nibbled her toast.

  “Finished?” he asked finally. At her nod, he took her tray and put it with his outside in the hallway. He returned to the chair.

  She smoothed her hair, though it didn’t need it. And then fiddled nervously with the sheet. “I don’t even know where to start, Will. I remember the wedding—”

  He blinked. “My God. You do?”

  She looked at him like he maybe had a screw loose. “You’re kidding? You actually thought I might have blacked out on the fact that Braden Traub and Jenny MacCallum got married yesterday?”

  His racing heart slowed. “Uh. Right. Of course you remember that.”

  “What? You don’t?”

  “Oh, no. I do.”

  “Will. You’re acting strangely.”

  Yeah, and why wouldn’t he? It was a damn strange situation, after all. He watched as she plucked at the sheet some more. “Tell me what else you remember.”

  She straightened the front of the terry-cloth robe and blew out a slow breath. “I remember the reception in the park, or most of it. I think. I remember what happened in the afternoon. I remember us dancing...” She twisted the sheet. “But the later it got, the more it all just becomes one weird, hazy blur.”

  A sinister thought occurred to him, and he went ahead and shared it. “Maybe someone put something in your punch.”

  She went straight to denial on that idea. “Oh, no. No. I don’t think so. Why would anyone do a thing like that?”

  He regarded her patiently. “Why do you think?”

  She wrinkled up her nose at him. “Oh, come on.”

  “It happens, Jordyn. We all like to think it doesn’t. But what about that smart-ass cowboy in the white hat, the one who danced by and winked at you when we were first standing there at the punch table together?”

  “He wasn’t a smart-ass. He was really nice.”

  “Seemed like a smart-ass to me,” Will muttered.

  But she shook her head. “No. Uh-uh. I don’t believe he would do a thing like that.” She stared off toward the window that looked out over the hotel grounds.

  “Don’t just blow me off,” he insisted. “Think about it. I drank from your cup after you did, remember? So maybe both of us were drugged—Jordyn, are you even listening?”

  She met his eyes then, but hers were a thousand miles away. “I don’t believe that guy drugged me. I just don’t. He was a great guy.”

  “And you know this, how?”

  She glanced away. “Okay, fine. He seemed like a great guy—and he never even had a chance to put anything in my drink. I danced with him once. He was nowhere near me when I served myself the punch.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. You’d have been more in a position to put something in my drink than anyone.”

  He gaped at her in horror. “Jordyn. You really don’t think I would—”

  “Of course not. And I don’t think that other guy did, either.” She’d stopped mangling the sheet—and gone to work wringing her hands. “And frankly, I’m more concerned with—” she turned away again and cleared her throat “—the question of whether or not you and I...” And then she looked at him again, her eyes huge and haunted. “Did we have sex, Will?”

  Damn. Direct question. He tried to think of a gentle way to tell her that he had no idea if they had or they hadn’t.

  But he took too long, and she went on. “I hope you know, because I don’t. I don’t know how we got here, Will. It’s all just vague, cloudy images, flashes of us dancing. Of us laughing together. Of us kissing...” Her too-pale face colored slightly.

  He remembered those kisses, too, remembered that she smelled so good and tasted so sweet, that her slim body fit just right in his arms. “I remember kissing you, too.”

  “So then tell me. Please. Did we...?”

  He was forced to confess, “I’m sorry, Jordyn. But I don’t remember, either.”

  She stared at him as though he’d just slapped her across the face. “Oh, fabulous.” More color flooded her soft cheeks—angry color now. “So I’m that forgettable, am I?”

  “Jordyn, be fair. You don’t remember, either.” He said it roughly, letting his own frustration show—and then regretted his harsh tone when her eyes welled with tears. “Aw, come on, don’t cry...”

  Too late. Fat tears spilled over and trailed down her cheeks. She sniffed. “I...I can’t help it. I’m a virgin.” His mouth dropped open when she said that. She let out a sad little sigh. “Or I was a virgin.” He gaped at her as she swiped furiously at the tears running down her face. “Can you just not look at me like that, please?” She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears still leaked out. “Oh, I can’t believe I just said that, just told you that...”

  He tried to soothe her. “Jordyn, it’s okay...”

  “It is not okay, and don’t you say that it is. Everything is very, very not okay.”

  He pleaded, “You have to believe me. I can’t see how I would ever take advantage of you that way.” But he couldn’t be sure, damn it. Because he just plain did not remember.

  Jordyn cried harder. “Oh, look at me. What a mess. And now I’ve said it. Now you know. I was a virgin—or
I am a virgin. That’s what’s so awful. I don’t know if I am, or just was, because I can’t remember what happened.” And with that, she buried her head in her hands again. Her slim shoulders shook with desperate sobs.

  Will had no idea what he ought to do to comfort her, so he just sat there and watched her cry. He felt lower than low. Not only had he possibly had sex with little Jordyn Leigh—if he had, she’d also been a virgin.

  He didn’t have sex with virgins. He knew better than that.

  Still sobbing, Jordyn shoved back the covers, scooted aside and stared at the sheets. “Nothing, no blood,” she said with a moan as she tugged on the hem of the robe. Then she whipped a few tissues from the box by the clock, blew her nose and declared, “I don’t see any blood, and I don’t feel like anything happened.” She tossed the used tissues toward the wastebasket, flipped the covers over her again and folded her arms across her middle.

  Silence. Jordyn gazed into space. Will had no idea what she might be thinking.

  But he needed to comfort her. He needed to wipe that lost look off her pretty face. So in the interest of injecting a positive note into this train wreck of a situation, he blurted, “Listen, it could be worse. If we did make love last night, at least we were married first.”

  She missed the positive angle altogether and screeched, “Married? Have you lost your mind?” And she whipped one of the pillows from behind her and tossed it at his head. He put up both hands and caught it before it hit him in the face—at which point Jordyn screeched again. “Oh, my God! Will! Your finger!”

  He peered cautiously around the pillow at her. “Huh?”

  “You’ve got a ring on your ring finger, too!”

  He just wasn’t following. “Too?”

  She muttered something discouraging under her breath, tossed back the covers again and jumped to her feet.

  “Jordyn,” he asked warily, “where are you going now?”

  She didn’t answer, just headed for the bathroom. A moment later she returned, plunked herself down on the side of the bed and held up a ring like the one he wore, only smaller. “It freaked me out when I saw it on my finger,” she confessed glumly. “So I took it off and stuck it under a stack of extra towels.” She dropped it on the nightstand. It spun for a moment and then settled. Jordyn cut her eyes to him again. “I don’t remember getting married...though maybe, well, I do remember that little man with the black-rimmed glasses. He was the county clerk. Do you remember him?”