Free Put a Ring On It by Beth Kendrick Page B

“Or so I’ve heard.”
    â€œThen I branched into gravel, and now I supply sand for corporate and military contracting jobs in the Middle East. The end.”
    â€œYou send sand to the Middle East. Like, the desert?”
    Jake nodded. “The sand over there is too fine for sandblasting concrete. We use a proprietary processing method and ship it over.”
    â€œYou built this”—she gestured to the cashmere and the polished walnut panels and the leather upholstery—“out of sand and gravel. That’s kind of . . .”
    â€œRedneck. I know.”
    Where had that come from? “‘Redneck’ is not the word I would use to describe you.”
    He watched her expression. “Disappointed I’m not part of a seedy underworld syndicate?”
    â€œNo,” she said, a bit too quickly.
    â€œWhat about you?” he countered. “How do I know
you
don’t have a criminal past?”
    â€œSeriously?” She glanced down at her outfit. “Look at me.”
    â€œI’m looking. The suit and the pearls could be a façade.”
    â€œThey’re not.”
    â€œFor all I know, you could be an undercover cop or a Russian spy.”
    â€œNo.” She sighed. “I am exactly as buttoned-up and responsible as I look.”
    â€œYou just flew off to Vegas to marry a stranger.”
    â€œA stranger who
doesn’t
have a criminal past or a loan shark after him.” She snuggled back into her cashmere cocoon. “Ooh, so rebellious.”
    He laughed and closed the window shade. “Baby steps.”
    Just as she was drifting back to sleep, Brighton sat up straight, gasping. “Kira.”
    â€œWho?” Jake asked.
    â€œMy friend Kira. I was at the bar with her last night. She has no idea what happened to me.” Brighton scrambled to straighten her skirt and grab her purse. “I need to call her right now. Can I use my cell in flight?”
    â€œSure.”
    Brighton entered her password to unlock her phone, then gasped as she looked at the image on the screen. “Oh no. Oh no no no.”
    â€œWhat?” Jake moved to sit next to her. He still smelled freshly laundered, with just a hint of woodsy cologne. It was like the laws of physics and hangovers didn’t apply to him.
    â€œI texted Colin last night.” She felt light-headed. “After the drive-through. I don’t remember any of this, but the time stamp says one a.m. Why didn’t someone take away my phone?”
    â€œBecause you’re a professional woman who’s clearly capable of making her own decisions.”
    â€œWhat have I done?
What have I done?
” Brighton scrolled through the texts she had sent to her ex.
    All twenty-eight of them.
    Photos of the limo.
    Photos of the private jet.
    Photos of Brighton and Jake holding up the freshly signed marriage certificate and a bottle of champagne.
    â€œOh my God,” Brighton whispered. “I sent these to my fiancé. I mean, my
ex
-fiancé.”
    Jake started laughing. “When did we get another bottle of champagne?”
    And then, as if the pictures weren’t bad enough, Brighton noticed the typo – and autocorrect-riddled captions she’d included with each photo:
    Floying commercial is so pleb
    Look at the smolder on this guy
    Not to mention the hair
    It’s like he’s the lost Hemsworth brother
    Marrying a Stranger: I WIN!!!!!!
    â€œI’m dying.” She pulled the blanket over her head. “I’m dead. How will I ever go back to New Jersey?”
    â€œYou know what the great thing is about marrying me?” Jake said. “You don’t have to.”
    Brighton yanked the blanket down. “Of course I do. What about my job?”
    â€œQuit,” he suggested. “It’s your screw-up summer, remember?”
    â€œScrewing up my summer is one thing, but I don’t want to screw up my whole life.”
    He gave her an