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She all but collapsed onto the couch. I held out my hand and she gave me her phone. The website she had open was the society section of the local paper where major announcements about prominent or wealthy people were listed. There we were—Bones and I—a picture from my mother’s charity event that I had no idea had even been taken. Bones was looking down at me and smiling and I was unaware of the camera on us.
It was a beautiful photo. Unposed. Unfiltered. I quickly scanned the announcement itself.
“Uh oh,” I muttered.
“What?” Charlie asked.
“My mother was very creative when explaining Bones’ background.”
“Oh, yeah. The private security spin. I wondered about that. Guess she really couldn’t say biker in a motorcycle club, though.”
“Correct,” I agreed.
“So, what happened in the last several days since I’ve seen you? Because apparently, you’ve had a full schedule what with getting married and all.”
“Buckle up,” I muttered. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
Before I could even begin to explain, the double doors to the dining room opened and Bones strode in.
Charlie launched herself up. “You!”
Bones frowned. “Me what?”
“You did this,” she accused.
“I did what?” Bones asked.
“You and your dick sorcery somehow got my best friend to marry you—without even inviting me,” Charlie accused.
“My dick sorcery in no way influenced your best friend to marry me,” Bones argued.
“It had a little bit to do with it,” I said with a shrug.
Bones raised his brows and Charlie glared at me.
“Call off your dog,” Bones said. “She’s about to rip out my throat.”
“Charlie, sit,” I commanded again. “And let me explain everything.”
With a snarl at Bones, Charlie finally sat again.
The story came out quickly and a bit disjointed, with Charlie constantly interrupting to ask questions. But by the end of my explanation, she had a decent grasp on the situation.
“So like, you’re really married? Not like, get a handle on your dad’s company and get through the publicity and then divorce kind of married?” she asked.
“We’re married, married,” Bones ground out.
He was still standing next to the couch, and I reached my hand out to him and he took it. Charlie’s eyes took note of it.
“Where’s Arnold?” Charlie asked. “That fucker has some explaining to do.”
“That fucker hasn’t even contacted Marilyn or tried to come home. My guess is he’s laying low, licking his wounds and trying to figure out just how much we know.”
“Or, he’s worried about you going Bad to the Bones on his ass,” Charlie said. “For hiring a hit on your woman. You are going Bad to the Bones on him, aren’t you?”
“Charlie, stop. Bones isn’t going to do anything to Arnold.”
Bones’ hand tightened around mine.
