The Marriage Contract (Anderson Brothers)

I had done that on purpose. If I’d gone to some major hotel, I would be easy to track, and Mom and Dad would be critical of me using their money to live in opulence without obeying them. Hiding away in a generic, corporate hotel kept me hidden and within a budget I could maintain without using their credit card that was still in my purse.

Slugging back to my car, I pulled out the suitcase, the bathroom bag, and laptop bag. Everything else could stay until the morning. Even the pizza.

My room was extremely cold when I got in, and I dropped my bags on the table to shiver. Slinging open the suitcase, I found some comfy pajamas and took them and the bathroom bag into the tiny bathroom. I turned up the shower and stepped in, letting the grime of the road get off me, then got into my pajamas and brushed my teeth.

Collapsing into the bed, I got under the covers and grabbed my phone off the nightstand where I had set it when I got into the room. Hitting the power button, I wasn’t surprised to see a string of missed calls and tons of messages from my parents and then the help. Even the maids got bullied into trying to find out where I was.

I shook my head and pulled up the last text from Hannah. I typed in a message that I was safe and in the bed at the hotel and hit Send, but it didn’t go. The little circle kept spinning. Groaning, I opened up my contacts and tried calling her.

“We’re sorry, your service has been temporarily disconnected,” the message began.

“Dammit,” I muttered and hung up.

It was fine. I would just go get a new phone in the morning. It was past eleven anyway. Hannah was either at work or asleep, and there was no reason to bug her. Setting an alarm and sticking the phone under my pillow, I tried to relax and let sleep take me. But despite how tired and drained I was, despite how exhausted the drive had made me, I had a hard time sleeping.

Flipping over on one side, I pulled a pillow up to my chest and wondered if I’d done the right thing.

3

Matt

Jordan and Hannah were in the back office, going over scheduling with the line cook while I did prep. As much as I liked being involved in the day-to-day aspects like scheduling, I liked having the chance to be in the kitchen by myself to prepare the day’s menu. Our line cooks were both really good, each one having their own additions and styles, but I still ran the kitchen. It was my kitchen.

That said, I was struggling with the menu. I felt stuck, doing the same pieces we had been doing since we were still in Astoria. Portland was a bigger city, obviously, and had a much more competitive bar/restaurant scene. If we were going to keep up, I needed to be on my toes and get things together. I was working on a new recipe for breading when I heard the front door open.

“We’re not open yet,” I called through the service window. The bar obstructed my view of who came in, and it took a second before I heard their voice calling out.

“Hello?” the voice said. It was a woman’s, and I figured it was a customer, wandering in early. Putting down the spices, I walked out of the kitchen and around the bar to see who it was, prepared to let them know they needed to come back when we were open.

“Oh,” was all I got out, though. The woman, a gorgeous, curvy, brown-haired woman, was squealing as she threw herself into Hannah’s arms. Hannah raised her hand to me to wave me off.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s my cousin, Chloe.”

“Cousin?” I muttered.

All I knew of Hannah’s family was that she practically ran away from her parents and their controlling ways, and that her family was really, extraordinarily wealthy. I didn’t know much else, but I decided in that moment that I wanted to.

Hannah took her by the hand, and they walked away, heading to the back. Suddenly realizing that I had been doing something, I turned and went back toward the kitchen, meeting Jordan on the way.

“You get the schedule all done?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I tried to give you the days off you wanted. Just let me know if something doesn’t work.”

“Will do.”

“So, how is it having Mom at your place?” he asked.

“It’s Mom,” I responded flatly. “You know how that goes.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but she chose to stay with you. She didn’t even ask us.”

“Well, I have a guest room,” I said. “You guys have a nursery now. She can’t fit in a crib.”

“True, though she would try,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay with her being there?”