One Night Stand Bride

Her father didn’t smile. He crossed his arms and even though he could look her in the eye when she wore stilettos, she still felt small and admonished even before he opened his mouth. Marrying Hendrix had been a last-ditch effort to do something her father approved of. Looked like that had been a vain effort all the way around.

“Glad to see that you’re dressed,” her father said and it was clear that he was speaking directly to his daughter.

The for once was implied and sure enough, flooded her with the embarrassment she’d managed to fight off earlier, after being discovered by wait staff. Thank God their parents hadn’t been the ones to fling open that door.

“That’s not really your concern any longer,” Hendrix said to her father.

She did a double take. Was he sticking up for her?

“It is my concern,” her father corrected. “This marriage isn’t guaranteed to remove all of the social shame from the photographs. Additional fodder could still be harmful and Roz is quite good at feeding that fire.”

“Still not your concern,” Hendrix corrected mildly and his hand tightened around hers.

As a warning to let him handle it? She couldn’t speak anyway. The knot in her throat had grown big enough to choke a hippopotamus.

“Roz is my wife,” Hendrix continued. “And any bad press that comes her way is my responsibility to mitigate. She has my name now. I’ll take care of her.”

Okay, there might be crying in her immediate future.

“Hendrix,” she murmured because she felt like she had to say something, but that was as much as her brain could manufacture.

With that, her husband nodded to his mother and swept Roz past the inquisition that should have ruined her day. Instead, Hendrix had relegated that confrontation to an insignificant incident in the hall.

How had he done that? She snuck a glance at him. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shot her an enigmatic smile. “I did so have to do that. Your father should be proud of you, not throwing you to the wolves.”

“Um, yeah. He’s never really appreciated my ability to keep my balance while having sex against a door.”

Hendrix laughed at th

at, which actually made her relax for what felt like the first time all day.

“I appreciate that skill.” He waggled his brows and guided her back into the reception where they were swallowed by the crowd, none of whom seemed to notice they’d been gone.

If it was at all possible to receive an indicator that she’d made the right decision in marrying Hendrix Harris, that moment with her father had been it. Half of her reason for agreeing had to do with gaining approval from a man who had demonstrated time and time again that she could not earn his respect no matter what. That possibility had been completely eliminated...only to be replaced with a completely different reality.

Her husband wasn’t going to take any crap from her father.

Maybe she didn’t have to, either.

And that’s when she actually started enjoying her wedding day.

* * *

Despite Paul Carpenter’s comments to the contrary, the wedding had apparently gone a long way toward smoothing over the scandal. The snide looks Hendrix had witnessed people shooting at Roz when they’d gone to the florist, and even to some degree during their one date, had dwindled. There were lots of smiles, lots of congrats, lots of schmoozers.

And what kind of crap was that?

It was one thing to have an academic understanding that they were getting married so that Helene Harris for Governor didn’t take unnecessary hits, but it was another entirely to see it in action. Especially when he was starting to suspect that some of the issue had to do with what society perceived as his “bad taste” to have mixed it up with the wild Carpenter daughter.

He was fixing it for her. Not the other way around. What was just as crazy? He liked being her go-to guy. The dressing-down he’d given her father had felt good. No one deserved to be judged for a healthy sexual appetite when her partner was a consenting adult.

He needed to get the hell out of here and make some wedding day memories at home, where his wife could do whatever she so desired without anyone knowing about it.

“Let’s go,” he growled in Roz’s ear. “We’ve been social for like a million hours already. Everyone here can suck it.”

“Including me?” Her gaze grew a hungry edge that had all kinds of appealing implications inside it, especially when she dragged it down his body. “Because coincidentally, that’s exactly what I had in mind.”