What the fuck?
Harper actually steps through the door and closes it behind her quickly.
She did not just close the door on me.
Damn.
Harper Wilde definitely has some sass to her.
Grinning, I step up to the door, not giving up. I try the doorknob and find it locked. I walk out to my bike and grab my kit. Going back up to the porch, I work my magic and have the door unlocked, and I step inside within record time.
I silently close the door and scan the little house and smile. Harper is something else with her neutral colors and bright walls.
I make my way through the house and find Harper standing at the island in the middle of the kitchen, swiping a fry through ice cream. I stand there for a silent moment and watch as she pops the fry with ice cream on it into her mouth. The way she lays the fry against her tongue has my cock taking notice.
“Now that’s just gross,” I mock, making her jump when I speak up, letting her know I’m here. “Who the hell dips their fries into ice cream?”
“What? How? I locked my door.” Harper stutters, ignoring my question probably due to shock at seeing me inside after she locked me out.
“I know and it’s a good thing you know to lock your door, but may I suggest you lock the deadbolt as well. It might make it a little harder for someone to pick the lock. That is unless they know what the hell they’re doing.” I grin.
“I’ll remember to do that. You can leave now.”
“Told you, Cuddle Muffin, we gotta talk,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes.
“What? Cuddle Muffin?” I chuckle, fuckin’ with her.
“Yes.”
“Alright, Snuggle Pie.” I shrug.
“Don’t call me that either. I have a name use it. I’m not your anything,” she grinds out.
“I know you have a name, but considering you’re my wife, wouldn’t you say I should call you by something else, Lollipop?”
“Excuse me? No, I am not your wife.”
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out the paper Nerd printed out for me, confirming just that. “Yeah, Pumpkin, you are.”
Harper steps around the counter and takes the paper from my hand. Her face pales as she reads it.
“No,” she whispers, tears pricking her eyes.
“Guess you don’t want this as much as I do,” I proclaim.
I reach out to wipe away a tear when it falls down her cheek. For some reason seeing her cry leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I never wanted to be married to any woman, but here we are married to each other. There are only two things we can do about it, so there isn’t any reason to get pissed and make the situation even worse than it is.
Harper lifts her gaze to meet mine. “That night, I was drugged. I don’t remember any of it. Including you.”
And just like that, my breath is knocked the hell out of me.
You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.
Chapter Five
Harper
Staring at the paper stating that I’d married a man named Bryan DeRose. His last name is beautiful and rings around in my head like it’s on a merry-go-round.
Damn Gigi and Salina for this.
“What do you mean you were drugged? I don’t remember shit from that night either except for waking up with you in a hotel room,” he growls, taking a step closer, getting into my space.
I take a step back. My dinner was all but forgotten at this point. This man literally broke into my house after waiting outside for me to get home. I thought I’d gotten rid of him when I ignored him and kept it short by telling him to call me rather than showing up at my house.
I mean, how the hell did he find me anyway?
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes while I figure out how to explain this whole situation to a man I’m married to but don’t even know.
Thanks to Gigi and Salina, I’m in this predicament, and my stomach churns at what he’s just said. He doesn’t remember shit about that night either. But he remembers me from the morning after. Does he know that he took my virginity? That he’s the only man I’ve been with intimately.
Oh, God. I think I’m going to be sick.
Covering my mouth, I rush to the sink since it’s the closest thing to me and I puke up what little I’d only just eaten.
How could Gigi and Salina do this to me? They were supposed to be my friends.
Tears stream down my cheeks.
Whip startles me when he places his hand on my lower back and starts to stroke along my spine.
Composing myself, I turn the water on, cup some in my hand, and splash my face. I straighten and tilt my head to meet Whip’s eyes. “My friends thought they would, as they put it, make me lighten up. They spiked my Jack and Coke. I don’t remember anything from that night. All I remember is waking up in a hotel room alone with a ring on my finger. I freaked out and went home. They told me the next day when I was freaking out about it.”
“Hold on a second,” Whip mutters, reaches into his front pocket, and pulls out his phone. He holds up his other hand with his pointer finger up as he does something on his phone. Suddenly there’s ringing, and a man’s voice fills the line.
“Brother, what the fuck you are doing calling me tonight?” The guy seems irritated.
“Sorry, K-9, I know you’re busy dealing with family shit, but gotta ask you something,” Whip grumbles.
“What is it?” K-9 asks.
“Do you remember much about the night of the charity event I helped you guys with two months ago?”
“Yeah, you and Harper were all over each other,” K-9 grumbles.
“You know Harper?” Whip furrows his brow and gives me an accusing look.
“Naw, don’t know her, but I know her brother. So do you,” K-9 states. “Why are you asking this shit?”
“Need you to tell me if you remember me drinking out of Harper’s glass.”
“Yep. The two bitches she was with talked shit about Harper finally going to fuck someone.” Oh my God. He did not say that.
My entire body stiffens and I’m ready to find a hole to crawl into when Whip’s eyes seem to be trying to decipher what K-9 meant by me finally going to fuck someone.
“Thanks, brother. Sorry again for bothering you tonight. Let me know how it goes,” Whip says almost too calmly and pulls the phone from his ear, disconnecting from his call.
Instead of putting his phone in his pocket, he tosses it onto the counter by the sink. His hands come to my waist, and he moves us and shocks me by lifting me and placing me on the island in the middle of the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” I gasp.
“Putting you next to your food, so you can finish eating while telling me why you said you were drugged,” Whip persists. He at least steps back to lean against the counter across from me.
Swallowing, I cast my gaze to the floor. He’s going to think I’m such an idiot. “My roommates told me they spiked my drink when we first got to the event. Said I needed to loosen up and live a little. I don’t remember anything. Your friend says you drank from my drink that night, then you would have been drugged as well.”
“Why did you leave the hotel room while I was gone?” he asks, baffling me with the question.