Accidentally Yours novel Chapter 8

“You’re married, you idiot!” He shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. “You can’t marry Hollie if you’re already married. Take Shayla to your grandfather, introduce her as your wife, problem solved.”

Oh. Why didn’t I think of this? I am married.

I frown. “You mean, we stay married?” Josh nods, widening his blue eyes. “She wouldn’t agree, why would she want to stay married?”

Josh throws a cushion at me. “Because you’re Tristan Cole Hoult, that’s why. You’re the most sought-after bachelor in the country—after me, of course.” He says in jest, and I throw the cushion back at him.

I roll my eyes exasperated. “Fuck you, arsehole.” Josh catches the cushion and rests his elbow on it, grinning. “She doesn’t care about any of that. She’s nothing like the rest; my fame and money didn’t deter her one bit.”

“Sound chick. Just tell her the truth, maybe you’ll appeal to her good nature, and she’ll pity you and agree to help. If that fails, offer her a pay-out, a couple of mill, like a bearding service.”

I rub my hands over my face with a heavy sigh. “That sounds rather crude.”

“Would you rather marry Hollie?” I shake my head and fall back against the sofa.

“Fuck no.” I curse looking at the beer bottle in my had. “Least Shayla’s fun to be around, I'd much rather be stuck married to her.”

“Just ask her.” He states taking a swig of his beer. “Worse case she’ll say no.”

“Oh, she will absolutely say no. She’s feisty and stubborn as hell.” I mutter tapping the neck of the bottle thoughtfully. Can’t hurt to ask. Like Josh said, maybe she will feel sorry for me and help me. Perhaps I could give her a raise? And I’d prefer to be married to Shayla than Hollie, at least she’s amusing to be around. She cracks me up throughout the day.

“Feisty, huh?” Josh intones, raising his brows with intrigue. “Good in the sack?”

I bite my bottom lip recalling our passionate night together. “Oh, definitely,” I murmur.

I sigh, feeling relieved. I hadn’t realized how much this marriage arrangement was weighing me down.

I leave Josh’s place and head home. I had a big day ahead of me the following day, and I needed to get my shit together before the presentation.

The next morning, I sat waiting for Shayla outside her apartment building. I’d been waiting fifteen minutes, and she’s yet to come down. Women. I will never understand why they take a year to get ready for everything. I honk my horn impatiently, just as she pushes the door open and walks toward the car. I let my eyes wander over as she approaches me. That tight, black, pencil skirt and red satin blouse she’s wearing are hugging her in all the right places. Her dark tresses cascading down her back in beach waves, just like the night we met.

“Jesus, keep your hair on. You’ll wake the neighbours.” She grumbles as she gets into the car. I’m not proud of this, but my eyes instantly drift to her skirt which rides up to her mid-thigh when she sits, and I find myself checking out her shapely legs. I have a sudden flashback of our night together in Vegas, those legs wrapped around me as she drew me into her deeper.

“Cole.”

I blink snapping out of my thoughts and look at her through my shades. “Hm?”

She looks at me with a frown, “Are we going or are we just going to sit here? You were just rushing me a moment ago?”

“Yes, we’re going,” I say, pulling away into traffic. “How are you? Did you manage to sort out tires?”

Shayla glances at me and shrugs, “Yes. Someone will be coming to fit new ones later this evening.” She explains, and I nod. “Thank you for offering to help. I was in a sour mood. I hope I didn’t come off rude.” She looks over at me, and I shake my head.

“Not at all,” I wave off her apology. “Honestly it would have been pissed me off too if someone stole all the tires off my car. Did you report it?” Shayla shakes her head, and I frown, “Why not?”

She sighs, looking out the window, “What’s the point? It’s hardly the crime of the year, is it? It’s inconvenient sure, but I think the police have much bigger cases that require their attention than my stolen tires.” I smile, shaking my head.

“That’s one way to look at it.”

Shayla sighs brushing her hair away from her pretty face, “Nothing seems to be going right for me at the moment, it truly is bizarre.”

I smile and glance at her before I look at the road again. “Oh, I’ve been there. But you should always try and stay positive because you never know when your luck might change.” Shayla looks at me briefly and nods. “Might be sooner than you think.”

“I doubt that.” She utters, her voice an octave over a whisper. The rest of the twenty-five-minute journey to the lawyer’s office, we spent reviewing my work schedule.

“Your two-thirty meeting got pushed back by fifteen minutes. Mr Cohen’s flight got delayed from Belgium; his driver dropped me an email earlier.” I nod as we walk into the office and Franc— our lawyer greets us.

“Morning, Mr Hoult, Mrs Hoult,” I observe Shayla’s reaction when Franc called her by her married name. She smiles tightly and takes his offered hand and sits at the table. “Okay, Mr Hoult I have drawn up the papers for the divorce. All I need are your signatures, and I can get it processed.” Shayla nods and picks up her pen and signs the papers. She holds the pen out to me, and I take it and stare at the paperwork in front of me.