"No, I'm sorry." And seriously, I don't recognize this guy at all. He's not in any way the type of man I would normally ever be attracted to. He's way too wild-looking and has trouble stamped all over him.
Smiling, he shakes his head. "Well, they certainly did their job in making sure the girl didn't know who I was. At least they got that part right." Uh-oh. Sounds like I'm not what he ordered from the menu either. "I'm the guitarist in Ashes & Embers."
I choke on my water and it spews out my nose. "Oh my God, what?"
I wipe at my wet face with my hand, feeling like a total idiot. I look around for a box of tissues or something, but there aren't any.
"Here." He hands me a napkin from the bar.
"The rock band?" I ask in disbelief, dabbing at my face and hoping I haven't ruined the makeup job Kat spent almost an hour on.
"Yup."
No, no, no. This cannot be happening. I wanted quiet. Normal. Family man. Suit and tie. Someone stable, not someone wild and crazy.
Not a freaking rock star!
I close my eyes and shake my head, hoping maybe this will all go away. "Why would you want to do this? You're, like, practically famous."
This guy doesn't seem like the type who would want a wife—or have any trouble finding one if he did. This has to be some kind of PR stunt. I'm going to demand to talk to Dr. Hollister. Maybe even get a lawyer and sue for distress. I endured detailed interviews, questionnaires, meetings with psychologists and sex therapists for almost half a year for this. Months of my life—just gone. And now I'm legally married to someone who probably did this for publicity and not to find a life partner.
"Why?" he repeats, snapping a Zippo lighter open and lighting up a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Truthfully? Because I wanted to be with someone who wasn't just interested in my dick."
Well, yeah. No problem with that, buddy. You can keep your dick over there.
Chapter 7
Talon
First, a fucked-up kiss.
And now, I can't drink.
Then, she's telling me I can't smoke in the room.
I've been with this chick for less than half an hour and she's already messing with my mojo.
I'm eyeing her from across the reception hall where she seems to be hiding with her friend, and having a meltdown, her hands flying as she talks, head shaking, while her friend nods repeatedly.