Page 8 of Married to the Enemy

Marriage. Adoption. Freddy. The words circled in his head.

He wasn’t just fighting traffic. He was fighting time.

And he refused to lose.

Chapter 5

“He’s not coming,” Mia hissed, pacing back and forth across the granite steps of the courthouse. In desperation, she scanned the parking lot across the street again, though she already knew. It was three minutes past the time she’d scribbled on that torn scrap of paper yesterday.

Defeat sank into her bones, heavy and icy cold.

He hadn’t shown up.

She was out five hundred dollars, as well as the cost of a pair of pawnshop gold bands that were clenched so tightly in her hand that the edges bit into her palm, and no marriage certificate to show for it.

“Damn it!” she snapped, her voice breaking on the word. She shook the two rings like they were a curse and tightened her grip, the metal digging against her skin. She’d even bought roses, stupid white roses from the corner flower shop, because she’d let herself believe, for one fleeting moment, that maybe this ridiculous plan could actually work.

“Stupid optimism,” she muttered, fighting the urge to throw the roses into the nearest trash can. As much as she wanted to take her frustration out on something, the roses were pretty and it wasn’t their fault that she’d hoped in the goodness of another human being and been let down.

The worst part wasn’t even the wasted money or the failure of her plan—it was the dull ache of disappointment in her chest. She’d lain awake half the night remembering the intensity in the stranger’s eyes. Those startlingly blue eyes, sharp and alive even under the grime, had unsettled her. She should have been focused on saving her nonna, on the danger, on the stakes of what she was doing. But instead, she kept remembering the strange pull she’d felt when she looked at him.

It wasn’t just that he’d been her last hope. There was something else—something she didn’t want to name. Sadness that she might never see him again.

Mia squeezed her eyes shut, furious at herself. She had no time for this. No time for men. No time for feelings.

She was turning back to the trashcan, getting ready to throw the roses away when the sharp squeal of tires jerked her head up.

A battered, rust-patched pickup truck careened around the corner, rattling like it had no business still being on the road. Her heart lurched.

No. It couldn’t be.

She squinted into the sunlight. From this distance, the man behind the wheel looked like nothing more than a dark blur. But something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands controlled the steering wheel, caused her pulse to stumble.

It might be him.

A moment later, her breath caught in her throat as the truck turned into a parking space and she caught a glimpse of the man’s hard, chiseled profile. It was him.

The truck roared into the parking space, and a moment later, the man who had haunted her thoughts all night jumped out of the cab.

Mia froze, except for her heart rate, which suddenly sped up.

He was bigger than she remembered. Yesterday he’d been hunched over on a park bench, all scruff and grim, his homelessness a comfort because he might need her money. But standing now, he was solid, broad, the kind of man who commanded without effort.

And clean.

Her breath caught as she stared. Gone was the filthy canvas jacket, replaced by a denim one that fit his impressive shoulders as if it had been made for him. The beard was still there, but his face didn’t look quite so lost under it anymore.

She blinked, startled at how much the change rattled her.

Then he jogged across the parking lot, weaving between cars, raising one hand to halt traffic like he had every right in the world to command it. People actually stopped, as if obeying without thinking.

Long strides carried him up the courthouse steps, taking them two at a time until he stopped just below her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said, his voice impossibly deep, gravelly, like a bass note that vibrated through her.

Mia’s mind stuttered. This was no broken man scrounging for spare change. No. This was someone else entirely. She wondered if she’d just stepped into something far more dangerous than she’d imagined.

She suddenly realized she was staring… at his big, broad shoulders and that thick, dark beard. When the man lifted a dark eyebrow, as if silently questioning her perusal, Mia blinked and looked quickly away.