Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Abby

O f all the things I’d expected Rafe to say, “What would it take for you to keep this ring on for a year, Abigail?” hadn’t been one of them.

I blinked and blinked again, trying to process his words. Maybe the Abby I’d been as a little girl would’ve been ecstatic at his question. But grown-up Rafe was definitely not the fun, mischievous, and secretly sweet boy from my childhood.

Not that I was thinking of being married to any man.

Still, my curiosity got the best of me and I blurted, “Why? I’m guessing that means you want to stay married for a year?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re still not making any sense, Rafe. What’s going on? Why are you even asking me that?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “While I’m not as big of a deal here in the States, news of our marriage will soon hit the tabloids in the UK and other places in Europe. And if we get annulled right away? It’ll look even worse, given my past, and eventually it’ll make it over here, too. And before you say I deserve all the press and attention because I was a public figure for so long and it’ll just blow over, bad press might crash my new business venture before I even get to open it.”

I was still trying to process him wanting to stay married for a year when my brain caught onto the last part. “Business? What business?”

He released my hand, retrieved his phone, and turned it toward me. I took it and looked at the picture—it was the old horse breeding place on the outskirts of Starry Hills. I remembered it because my parents had taken me there to finally get my own pony as a little girl.

Once the owners had passed away and it shut down, it’d felt as if another piece of my childhood had vanished along with it.

Rafe’s voice garnered my attention. “I bought the Santos place last year, and I’m turning it into a sports training facility for kids and teens. There will be a more specialized program for those who need extra coaching to try and make it to pro. But there will also be several programs for both local teams and summer programs for anyone.”

I glanced back up at Rafe, only to find excitement shining in his eyes. After all the months of him scowling and frowning and looking out of place, I barely recognized this version of him. “This is your new passion, isn’t it? Now that your injury has ended your soccer career.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sitting around, filling my days with endless entertainment, would drive me crazy. This would give me a purpose, a reason to get up every morning.”

Growing up, Rafe had never sat still. Soccer had become his entire world, and now that he couldn’t play any longer? I’d worried about him. “I can tell it’s more than something to pass the time. You’re a lot like your sister in some ways, and one of them is that you can’t hide your excitement. Emmy is like that with weddings, and now for you, this place is it.”

“Maybe.” He shuffled his feet. “At any rate, I’ve been trying to clean up my reputation for years. I always knew at some point my body would give out, and I’d have to find something else. But if there’s any whiff of scandal, it’ll spread like wildfire and probably ruin my chances with the training facility.” He paused and searched my gaze. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Abby. But if it’s purely a marriage of convenience, one we keep for a year as a ruse and nothing more, my business has a better chance at succeeding. Plus, I’d help fulfill any dream you have in return.” I opened my mouth to say it was crazy, but he blurted, “Will you at least think about it?”

The rational thing was to run downstairs and ask how to get an annulment before we left the city. I’d remembered that we were in Las Vegas, but not why we’d decided to come here. Only that we were here and, in fact, married.

But as I glanced down at Rafe’s phone again and saw the picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about how happy he’d been as he’d talked about his new business. More so than I’d ever seen him be as an adult.

It was crazy to even consider his proposal. And yet, showing up in San Jose with Rafe on my arm and rubbing it in Travis’s face was tempting.

But would that really make me feel better? I could be sensible and ask Rafe for money and then travel. Or ask for a house. Or a million other things that might give me a future now that teaching was off the table.

Regardless of what I asked for, it would still mean telling my family and friends about our marriage sooner rather than later. Could I really do that and lie to my family for an entire year?

As if sensing my dilemma, Rafe spoke up again. “I will also promise you a few things now if you say yes: I will protect you as long as you’re my wife; I’ll give you whatever is within my power to give; and you’ll be safe with me. I’ll never touch you or kiss you or try to be a dick and demand marital rights.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Marital rights? Which century is this?”

“That’s what you focus on?”

Considering his words about never kissing me had caused disappointment to rush through me, yes, it was better to focus on bickering with him. “I’ll think about it. But before I even do that, I have some questions.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, as if afraid of what I might ask.

I snorted at the image of tall, muscled, badass Rafael Mendoza being afraid of me.

The man in question peered at me with concern. “Are you still drunk, Abby?”

“No, I’m not drunk. Like you’re one to ask, Mr. Wake-Up-Married-And-Hatches-A-Plan. I mean, who asks someone to stay married for a year for PR purposes?”

“Fair point. So, what are your questions?”

I gave him his phone back. “How will it all work? Will we live together? Will you be in Starry Hills the whole time? Or will you jet off and leave me for long periods?”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

That would be the easiest route, for sure. Because there was something Rafe probably didn’t know, something I rarely admitted to myself—that I’d had a crush on him since I was eight years old. At one time, I’d wanted to kiss him and marry him and have his babies.

But his hurting Emmy had changed all that. Well, mostly. But attraction wasn’t something I could turn off, and it took every bit of strength I had not to gawk at his boxer-clad body again.

However, learning what little bit I had about Rafe this morning only made me want to spend more time with him. If I could help him and Emmy fix things and make them closer, that alone might be worth it.

And to do that, I needed him around.

So I replied, “I’d rather you not disappear for weeks at a time, at least without telling me. And…”

“And, what?”

“Well, I’ve never really been anywhere outside the US. I’d like to see England and Scotland and Italy and, well, anywhere in Europe, really. It’s like a starter traveling place for me. Maybe later I can be more adventurous and go to India or Peru or Kenya.” Realizing how that might sound clingy, I quickly added, “Only if you’re okay with it.”

“You’re the one who’d be doing me a favor, Abby. I’ll do just about anything to repay it if you say yes.”

Even kiss me?

Wait, woah. No. I needed to stop that crap right now.

I focused back on our conversation and poking the bear a little. “Anything, hmm? So if I wanted a million dollars in quarters, you’d do it?”

“Why the fuck would you want a million dollars in quarters?”

“Maybe I want to be like Scrooge McDuck and have a money vault I can admire.”

“He swam in it, and I somehow think it’d hurt to swim in coins. Bills might work. But even then, they’d be covered in germs.”

“Coins would be easier to clean.”

He sighed. “Are you really asking for this, or is this another test?”

“It’s called teasing, Rafe. Have you never heard of it?”

He grunted. “Yes. But asking for a vault of coins is just bloody ridiculous.”

I smiled. “You just said bloody like a Brit.”

He growled. “It happens. I spent nearly twenty years there. I even had to adjust my pronunciation for some words, just to be understood. Twenty being one of them. Twun-tee and not twun-dee like we say here.”

“Twun-tee. That was your jersey number, too. That must’ve been a pain in the ass. Oh, wait, arse.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. And as Rafe frowned harder, I laughed even more.

Eventually he asked, “Are you finished? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I need bacon and coffee to tame this hangover.”

“Sausage is better.”

“Oh, hell no. You didn’t just say that.”

“Yep, I did. My aunt has a special recipe for homemade sausage that makes bacon look like junk food.”

“Well, that just means more bacon for me. Let’s have some shitty coffee, find food, and we can drive back. I can be silent, but I can also answer any other questions you might have.”

“Any question?”

“Related to my proposal, Abigail. I reserve the right to stay quiet if you bring up silly shit like the coin vault again.”

I sniffed. “It’s not my fault that you’re so serious. You’re getting close to forty, after all. So I guess that means you’re no fun.”

“Yes, because all twenty-six-year-olds talk about swimming in money vaults,” he drawled. “And I’m thirty-six, not nearly forty.”

“Closer than I am, Grandpa.”

“Abigail.”

His warning tone only made me laugh. “Is that supposed to work on me?”

He ran his hand over his hair—that seemed to be a habit of his now—and said, “Maybe? You’re different from the other women I’ve been with in the past. Not that we’re together or anything. But you know what I mean.”

Ah, yes. His legion of former women. I’d read about that over the years. Teenage Abigail had been devastated. But now? It was his past and had nothing to do with me.

Even if he was my husband.

Husband. Weird to think of Rafe as that since I never thought I’d have one after what happened with Travis Doucey.

But, nope, I wasn’t going to waste brain cells thinking about that douchebag. So I focused on Rafe. “Well, I am a Wolfe sibling, after all. If you were looking for someone to fawn over you or bat her eyelashes or be demure, then you’ve got the wrong fake wife.”

“I wouldn’t want a woman like that as my wife.”

For a second, we stared at each other. The way he said, “my wife,” all low and growly, almost possessively, made me shiver.

A woman could get used to that.

Not that it was for real. He was probably only practicing in case I agreed to his plan. Because if I did, we’d have to convince the world it wasn’t a ruse.

My stomach rumbled, and I actually didn’t feel sick. The aspirin I’d taken in the bathroom had helped already.

I gestured at Rafe. “Get dressed so we can eat. I can’t wait to steal all the sausage and you can have the tasteless bacon.”

“You really don’t want to start a bacon versus sausage war, Abigail.”

My lips twitched. “If we stay married—which I still haven’t decided—I suspect we’ll have a lot of mini-wars about stupid stuff all the time. It could be fun.”

He groaned, and I laughed. I watched as he grabbed his clothes and headed into the bathroom. I covertly checked out his ass and muscled thighs. Damn, he was toned. Soccer players were lean, and I liked that.

Not that it mattered. So I took out my phone as a distraction and gasped as I opened up my social media account. Because there was a picture of Rafe and I smiling, me dressed up, and both of us in what looked like a chapel.

I deleted it and hoped my family hadn’t seen it. Because if so, keeping this a secret—even if I decided not to stay married to Rafe—would be impossible.