I stop short and stare at her. She laughs and holds up her hands.
“I don’t even want to know how you know what a brothel smells like.” I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face at least.
Standing in front of the mirror, I look at my reflection. Black mascara is smudged around my eyes and my hair is stringy and dirty. Molly’s right that I should clean up, but I’m fairly sure if I stick around Vegas, Logan will find me.
Once I’m safe and sound in Alaska, I can reach out to him or his people and get the divorce or annulment going. By then he’ll have come to his senses and seen that he was drunk and really doesn’t want anything to do with some small-town girl who despises what he does for a living.
Partially groomed, I walk out of the bathroom with my toiletries in hand. “Better?”
She doesn’t laugh and doesn’t crack a smile. Her gaze rises from the phone, and she hands it over. “Maybe we should stop and get a hat for you on the way to the airport?”
The first thing I notice on her phone is the picture of Logan and me walking out of the chapel. Then another picture of the ring, and another of us at the chapel with Elvis between us. “I look horrendous.”
“You look pretty. I mean, pretty drunk, but gorgeous.” Molly smiles. “But if it’s on the gossip mill sites, you can bet…”
My stomach drops. “Marla already knows.”
My love for celebrity gossip comes from my mom. I remember from a young age that instead of reading the newspaper every morning, my mom dove into the online gossip sites. It’s her one and only vice, though she’ll deny it if you ever ask her.
“Let’s get you home and showered and prepped with answers for Marla.”
I stare at the picture of Logan and me. He really is a good-looking guy. My stomach stirs with butterflies, but I shake my head because men like him aren’t the ones you settle down with. I told myself a long time ago if I ever got married, it would be to a quiet man who was the complete opposite of my father. And Logan sure as hell isn’t that man.
Right now, I can’t worry about Logan. I need to worry about dodging my mom until I can figure this all out. So I need to go make an appearance at my brothers’ brewery and get out of there before she shows up.
Chapter Four
“Oh… I think you’re thinking about booking the flight to Alaska.”
Logan
I’m sitting on the couch in the hotel suite, staring at the wedding ring Nikki left behind.
I should’ve known she’d run. She didn’t seem all that into me when she woke up this morning. Actually, she seemed frightened of me and what we’d done.
I guess I shouldn’t expect her to be on board with being married to a stranger. The fact that I’m cool with it is probably because I was raised by a woman who believes in signs. Or maybe it’s that the fighting doesn’t thrill me like it once did. I feel like I’m coming up on the time to conquer something else in my life. Maybe that’s marriage.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to see my mom’s name across the top.
I sigh. Might as well get this over with. “Hey, Mom.”
“Is it true?” My mom has that tone that says she wants all the juicy details. She keeps up with my career extensively.
“How’s the weather in Florida?” I ask, laughing.
“Weather? Come on. Don’t make me beg.” The lightness in her tone helps alleviate some of the despair I felt when I returned to an empty hotel room.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then put my daughter-in-law on the phone and I’ll ask her.” She laughs.
I shake my head, staring through the huge windows at the skyline of Las Vegas. A view like that should make me feel as though I’m on top of the world, and at one point, it did. Not so much lately. Right now, all I envision is Nikki pressed up against the glass last night when we got back from the chapel. That one memory from last night feels more like a nightmare now, knowing I’ll never be able to experience it again.
It doesn’t seem fair that I have to sit here in this room and relive what we did when she gets to disappear.
“Turns out your daughter-in-law isn’t so fond of being a Stone.”
Out of everyone in my life, my mom has been there for me and always been the one I could confide in. When I started to fight at school, she’s the one who picked me up from the police station and urged me to put my fists to productive use to channel my anger at my father. And she’s the one who saw the good in me when so many others only saw the bad.
“I know I’m biased, but any woman would be, or should be, thrilled to be Mrs. Logan Stone.”
I frown. “Turns out, not her.”
She sighs, and I hear the spoon swirling in her tea mug. “And what are you gonna do about that?”
“What can I do about it? I can’t lock her up or chain her to the bed.” I refrain from telling my mom that I asked her to stay. That would only make me sound pathetic, and I like that my mom thinks I’m a perfect guy.
“Well, what was it about her that made you marry her?”
“Other than the shots of tequila, you mean?” I don’t pause long enough for her to respond. “But I know where you’re going with this and I’m gonna tell you that yeah, I do think it’s a sign.”
A sigh of contentment flows through the receiver. “I know you’ve been struggling with your decision about retirement. This isn’t about you finding another thrill since fighting doesn’t do it anymore, is it?”
That’s the problem with my mom. She can pretty much sense everything that’s wrong with me and isn’t afraid to call me on my shit. She knows me better than anyone.
“I haven’t even decided about retirement. Vince will kill me if I retire anyway. I think the whole marrying a stranger thing… well, I wish I could figure out the reason why I did it.”
“Why? Log, I taught you never to ask why. What is, just is.”
That’s my mom. She believes in gut feelings—always has. She thinks we all have a path in life that’s already set out in front of us. So I know she probably believes that Nikki was brought into my life and I married her on a whim because I was meant to.
“I’m not really into chasing things that don’t wanna be caught.”
She slurps her tea. “Who said she doesn’t wanna be caught? Did she?”
“Her actions spoke louder than her words.”
“You know, I’ve seen you do a lot of fighting in your days.” She pauses as if she’s trying to be dramatic. “I’m not talking about just in the ring.”
I know what she means. Sometimes I feel as though I’ve been fighting for everything I’ve ever gotten my entire life.
“Say what you want and let’s just get on with this conversation,” I grumble.
“I love you, sweetie. You’re my little boy. But you’re as bullheaded as those bulls in the rodeo. Actually, you’re as stubborn as those stupid men who ride the bulls.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.” Usually she’s much more complimentary of me.