Free Put a Ring On It by Beth Kendrick Page A

did.” He closed the laptop and gave her his full attention, but the sensual smolder had been replaced with an almost detached friendliness. Something had happened between pulling up to the drive-through chapel and now; they were no longer boozy partners in crime. Now they were two adults who had just met.
    Who happened to be married.
    â€œDid we kiss?” she asked.
    He furrowed his brow. “I think so. Right after I introduced the officiant to Benjamin Franklin and right before you passed out.”
    She covered her lips with her hand. “How was it?”
    â€œBrief. Official. Wine-flavored.”
    She tugged her blanket tighter around her shoulders. “How are you still awake?”
    He shrugged. “I’m supposed to be looking over some work documents.”
    â€œYou’re working.” The reality of everything they’d done slammed into her. “It’s our wedding night and you’re working? That’s not very indolent of you.”
    â€œI’m
supposed
to be looking over some documents,” he clarified. “I’m actually watching a documentary on giant radioactive wolves.”
    Brighton scrambled into a sitting position. “Like, science fiction?”
    â€œNo, they’re real. It’s about what happened to the wildlife at the abandoned Chernobyl site.”
    â€œIs that . . . related to your job?”
    â€œNot even remotely.”
    â€œOkay.” She blinked a few times. “You like nature documentaries?”
    â€œI do when they’re about radioactive wolves.” He lifted the shade so she could see the golden morning sunlight. “We won’t be landing for another hour. You can go back to sleep, if you want.”
    â€œWhat kind of work do you do that you can afford all this?” she rasped. “Private jets and teams of people to do your bidding wherever you go?”
    He didn’t reply. She could hear the steady drone of the engines and the hiss of air from the overhead vents.
    Just when she started to wonder if she’d inadvertently offended him, he asked, “Do you like to talk about your job when you’re hanging out at bars or flying to Vegas?”
    â€œNo,” Brighton admitted. “But that’s because my work is really boring.”
    He nodded. “My work is really boring, too.”
    â€œBoring and completely legal . . . right?” She laced her hands together and squeezed.
    â€œCompletely,” he assured her.
    â€œIt better be. Because, so help me, if I find out later that you’re some sort of drug dealer or Mafia kingpin, I’m going to be pissed.”
    â€œIf I were into drugs or organized crime, I wouldn’t be spending my summers in Black Dog Bay.” The warmth had returned to his voice and his eyes. “Everybody knows everything about everybody else, and they all talk.”
    â€œGood. I just want to make sure you don’t have a criminal past. Or a criminal present, for that matter.”
    He mirrored her solemn expression. “If it makes you feel better, a wife cannot be forced to testify against her husband. So if I
were
a criminal, marrying me is actually reducing your odds of getting caught up in all the legal proceedings.”
    Her eyes widened and her palms started to sweat. “The fact that you know that does not make me feel better.”
    â€œRelax. I’m just torturing you.”
    â€œWell, knock it off and reassure me that cocaine and arms trafficking didn’t pay for this plane.”
    He finally relented. “Sand paid for this plane.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSand, concrete, and gravel.”
    â€œElaborate, please.”
    â€œI started out supplying concrete for construction contracts.” He looked and sounded completely bored with this topic of conversation. “That’s how I made my first million.”
    â€œFirst million’s the hardest, right?” Brighton paused.