Crash and Burn (3 page)

“Grace! Dinner! Grace! Are you up there?” Stone heard Divina call.

“I’ll check on her,” he volunteered, yelling down to Divina.

He tucked in the tails of his shirt and walked to Grace’s bedroom. The door was open a crack, and through the muted light the pulled shade allowed, he saw she was lying on her back on top of the covers on the twin bed with one arm thrown over her head and her opposite knee cocked to the side. It didn’t look comfortable. He wanted to wake her before running downstairs, but instead he pushed the door open, thankful it didn’t squeak and watched her sleeping for a minute. He heard her soft, even breaths. His pulse skipped a beat as he moved closer, his fingers itching to touch her silky-looking hair. She’d probably freak out if she knew he was watching her. Relaxed in sleep, all of her rough edges were gone. She wasn’t the protective sister, she was…what?

What about this woman intrigued him? For years, he’d only been interested in women for carnal reasons. Sure, he’d pursued women to get what he wanted at the end of the night, but he didn’t care how they ticked or why they did what they did. Now he was older and a married man. In the last ten minutes, his tastes had magically transformed while watching his sister-in-law.

The way she was laying, he couldn’t see her face without leaning over her. “Grace,” he whispered. She was soft, peaches and cream, so opposite of his new wife downstairs, who was arguing with Hank about setting the table, her sharp voice penetrating.

“Grace,” he said again, smoothing the hair over her shoulder, letting his fingers linger in the soft strands. “Dinner’s ready.”

She snuggled deeper into the mattress, sighed and slept on. Stone cursed at the effect her quiet sigh had on his libido. He took a deep breath, inhaling her intoxicating scent. A huge mistake.

Shit.

He snuck back to the door, then exclaimed, “Dammit, Grace, wake up!”

She sat bolt upright, bleary-eyed and confused. “What are you doing in my room?”

“It’s dinner time. Your sister tried calling you.”

“So you thought you’d scare me half to death? I’ll be down in a minute,” she said shooing him with a waved arm.

Grudgingly he took the hint and left her alone, descending the stairs to enjoy his first meal with his wife and her fiance. The whole situation was comical. He’d been confused by Divina’s reaction in Vegas the following morning when he told her they were married. He had been downright shocked to discover she was already engaged.

Divina pointed to the chair next to the head of the table. “You sit here. Hank’s going to sit at the head of the table, where he always sits.” She pointed down the table. “Grace can sit on the side opposite you.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned out, sweetie,” Stone said, patting her butt.

“Don’t,” she snapped.

“What?” he snapped back, matching her tone. “You’re the one who married me.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Maybe, but I’m your husband and I expect you to be my dutiful wife.”

He was being a jerk, but couldn’t help himself. It was better for her to know what he wanted from her up front. Their marriage was for the public show; sex wasn’t a part of the bargain. Of course, he wouldn’t argue with her if she wanted him to perform his husbandly duties.

He stifled a grin. Sex was a perk of marriage, right? Now he was shit-out-of-luck.

“I’ll never be your dutiful wife,” Divina sneered. “I want to get rid of you. Now. I want you out of my house and out of my life.”

Grace entered the room. “Are we going to pretend this isn’t the strangest situation any of us have been in?”

“I’ll pretend all day,” Stone said.

Divina scowled. “I refuse to be this man’s wife.”

“Me too,” Hank agreed.

“You’re not his wife, Hank,” Grace pointed out with a smirk.

“You’re not my type, Hank,” Stone said. “Sorry, man.”

Hank gave him a dirty look.

Divina stood to serve the dinner. “All of you better understand, I refuse to cook every night,” she said as she slopped pasty mashed potatoes that resembling a science project onto plates.

Stone sent Grace a worried look and she smiled back at him. “That’s right, Divina, you shouldn’t have to cook for these men. And I’m here at your request. I’m here because of your bad choices. So I refuse to cook.”

She handed a loaded plate to Hank first, then the next to Stone.

“Go ahead, Stone,” Grace taunted. “It only hurts for a moment.”

“Thanks, Grace,” Divina said. “I know you think I can’t cook.”

Grace scoffed. “I
know
you can’t cook.”

“Not to change the topic,” Stone said, shooting a look at Divina, who was beginning to look like a storm cloud threatening to thunder. “I have a race on Saturday and I need Divina by my side. The papers know about the wedding, and they’ll expect my new bride to cheer me on from the pit. We are supposed to be happily married, after all.” His voice took on a hard edge when he mentioned
happily married
.

“Not going to happen.” Divina stomped her foot. “No way.”

Grace stayed quiet, watching the interaction. Hank was shaking his head.

“Um, yeah, you will.”

“No way. You can’t bully me. My wedding invitations have already gone to the printers and the save-the-date cards have been sent. People will talk.”

Stone rolled his eyes. “They already are. I need you there. Your name will be in the paper tomorrow whether you like it or not. If I don’t show up with a wife on Saturday, the whole sordid story will come out–the one about living with your husband and boyfriend. What will Hankie-poo’s mother think about his darling fiance then? You and your precious Hank won’t be getting married,” Stone said, his voice as hard as his name. “Even if we divorce, Mrs. Fairfield will know you married another man.”

“Don’t threaten me, you jerk!”

Grace smiled, enjoying the show.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Divina turned on Grace, glaring.

Grace schooled her grin. “I’m only here to keep you guys from killing one another. The entertainment is payment enough.”

“You don’t think I should go to the race? Do you?” Divina asked in a simpering voice.

“I don’t care what you do,” Grace answered honestly. Her sister could strip naked and do a polka on the table and she could care less. She was there at the request of her father and her need to make sure her parents didn’t have to worry about this mess. If she could only get Stone to annul the marriage.

“Well, I won’t go.” Divina stomped her foot again.

“Stop being a baby, Div,” Grace said.

“There
haaaas
to be another answer,” she cried.

The silence hung in the air like a cloud in the room. Grace glanced around the table, making eye contact with Divina, then Stone, then Hank.

“I’ve got it!” Hank yelled triumphantly. “Divina and Grace, you two look similar, you could almost pass as twins. Grace, you could play Divina on Saturday. I know you could pull it off. Stone only said he needed a woman.”

“Are you high?” Grace leveled a glare at Hank for even suggesting something so crazy. “I have nothing to do with this. Don’t drag me into this bizarre love triangle.”

Stone couldn’t believe his ears. Hank had actually come up with a decent idea. Attending the race with Divina would be torture, but with Grace it could be fun. Convincing Grace would be tricky. She could blow the whole good guy image for him with one misplaced word.

After a bite of potatoes and some charred meat, he accepted that his new wife was a spoiled, whiney brat who couldn’t cook. He was going to have to hit a local fast food joint to keep from starving during the week. Or, heaven forbid, he might have to learn to cook more than pasta and eggs. Grace impressed him by telling her older sister just what was on her mind. He actually admired her. A dangerous situation, considering he found himself becoming more interested in spending time with his sister-in-law than his wife. The only problem was she seemed to hate his guts.

“Please, Gracie,” his wife begged.

“Works for me. Grace can act as my wife for the day.”

“I’m leaving the room, and when I see you again, you will have a solution that doesn’t involve me.” Grace shoved her chair back, glaring at the three of them.

Stone smiled. He’d work on her. Having the real Divina there would not be a good thing. Not good at all.

His image was everything, according to his manager. Stone stood at the table. “Thanks for dinner, dear. We’ll talk about Saturday after everyone has calmed down.”

“I don’t care about your dumb race,” Divina said. “I only want to go to the courthouse for our divorce.”

“Hell will freeze over before I grant you a divorce, dear.”

Divina shoved her chair back, toppling it against the wall. “Don’t call me
dear
,” she yelled, stomping out of the room.

Hank hurried after her like a puppy to his master. Stone sat back down at the empty table. This wasn’t turning out the way he’d planned. Divina toted more baggage than some of his friends’ wives on road trips.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his manager. “Yo, Walt. Stone here.” His voice echoed in the now-empty room.

“Stone, what the hell is this about you getting hitched in Vegas?”

“I married a woman I met there, but that’s only the beginning.”

“I know I said settling down would help your image, but seriously. The phone’s been ringing off the hook. Everyone wants to meet her. The sponsor is looking to hold a press conference–a national press conference. When do I get to meet the girl?”

“Walter, slow down. There’s a problem.” He let his voice drop, hoping Walt would listen for a second.

“I’ll say. I should have at least been there.”

“No, listen to me. She’s engaged.”

“I heard you got married, not engaged.”

“I
am
married.” His patience was stretched thin and he gave a tight grimace. He’d known Walt for a long time, but Walt didn’t always catch on to new concepts. “Divina’s engaged to someone else, but she’s married to me.”

Stone heard the chuckle from Walt’s end.

“Where are you now?” he asked.

“I’m at their house. I moved in.”

“Whose house?”

“My wife and her fiance’s. Oh, and my sister-in-law has moved in too.”

There was a pause on the line.

“Walt?”

“Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind? You’ve created a recipe for disaster. Domestic disaster.”

Stone imagined Walt shaking his head.

“The press is expecting you to show up with your new love this Saturday. Is your bride up to the challenge?”

“Nope. She’s refusing.” He leaned back in his chair until it tilted off the front legs. “I’m working on a backup plan. I only have to have a blushing bride, it doesn’t matter if it’s the actual woman I married, right?”

“This is not a good idea, Stone. This is an
E! True Hollywood Story
waiting to happen. Dude. You have to convince your actual wife to show up.”

Stone sighed. “In the light of day, my wife isn’t all sweet compliance and roses. I’m afraid she’ll do more to damage my image than help it.”

“I hear you, but the press is expecting you and your wife on Saturday. Make it happen.”

The phone went dead in his hand. He sighed again. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

He was frustrated with himself more than anyone else. It was his fault he’d been impulsive, a trait he’d fought through the years. Not always with success. He’d screwed up his first date. He’d borrowed his parents’ car, picked up the girl and, on impulse, drove her to Bar Harbor, three hours from home.

When the police caught up with them, parked in Acadia National Park, they’d informed him he was “in big trouble, mister.” His parents had grounded him for a month, revoked his driving privileges and forbade him to ever see the girl again.

Then in college he’d protested against a fraternity that only pledged agriculture majors, even though he’d had no intention of joining. He was just looking for something to do. Potato farmers held zero interest for him. In the end, he was forced to go through pledge week, where those potato farmers abused him just shy of hazing.

Getting married was the latest in a long line of stupid moves. He slammed the front legs of the chair back onto the floor and went to the door.

The front porch was the kind he’d seen in classic American paintings. White wicker chairs, floral print pillows and a padded swing hanging from the rafters on one end, potted geraniums in window boxes.

Grace glided rhythmically in the swing. “You do know how to rock the boat.”

“Maybe. You mind?” he asked, pointing to the stationary seat next to her.

“Go ahead.” She looked up from the book she was reading. “Can I ask you a question?”

Stone was immediately on guard, his senses alert. He heard the peepers and the neighbors across the street outside talking. Each creak of the swing rifled through his brain. A lurking headache was beginning to make its presence known.