Married for a Month Read online

  Best friends since high school, Chase Bradley and Alec Montero are opposites in almost every way. The one thing they can agree on, though, is that marriage is for suckers.

  Everything is going their way until a drunken bet leads Alec and Chase to the altar. Their temporary “I Do’s” aren’t as amusing in the sober light of day when they find themselves thrown into married life and everything that goes with it.

  The question they have to ask themselves now is, can their friendship survive being married for a month?

  Published by Cate Ashwood

  Married for a Month © 2017 Cate Ashwood

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  All rights reserved worldwide. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Help support authors by purchasing only authorized copies.

  Cover Design © 2017 Cate Ashwood

  http://www.cateashwooddesigns.com

  Edited by Sandra Depukat of One Love Editing

  http://oneloveediting.com/

  Content Warning: This work is classified as a gay romance. It contains graphic language and sexual content between two adult men. Not intended for anyone under the age of 18.

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you to my amazing beta readers: Julia, Becky, Janie, L.J., and Skylar. You ladies are incredible, and there would be so much missing from this story if it weren’t for your input and guidance.

  And as always, colossal, enormous, immense thanks go to my rock star editor, Sandra, who keeps me from seeming completely grammatically-challenged. I owe you cheesecake and a massive bottle of wine.

  Married for a Month

  Cate Ashwood

  Chapter One

  Chase

  It was the same bar in the same place with the same people I’d been meeting up with for years. When I’d arrived that night, I assumed it would end the same way it always had—all of us blitzed out on cheap beer and our stomachs sore from laughing so hard.

  I had no idea I would leave that night having promised to marry my best friend.

  “You’re so fucking pussy-whipped,” I said, accusing Reid, whose wife, Jo, had just asked him to get her another glass of wine.

  “I’m not pussy-whipped, Chase. I’m married. There’s a difference.”

  “I don’t think there is.”

  Serena laughed. “Says the overgrown frat boy who’s never managed to keep a relationship going past the third date.”

  “The third date is all I’m after,” I replied, waggling my eyebrows. “Everyone knows the third date’s the best one.”

  What they said was true, though. I’d never been the long-term-relationship guy. I loved the spark of newness when I first went out with a guy. Dating too long led to that spark fading, and all that was left in its place was banality and dull sex.

  No, thank you.

  “You really don’t know what you’re missing out on,” Brynn added. “Marriage is awesome. You get to spend all your time with your best friend. No matter what, there’s always someone in your corner. There’s someone to take care of you when you’re sick. Backrubs. Sunday morning sex—”

  “And maybe most importantly, it’s not considered pathetic if you polish off a whole bottle of wine on a weeknight because you’re not drinking alone,” Serena chimed in.

  “Who says that’s pathetic?” I asked.

  “And don’t forget about the tax breaks,” Reid pointed out. Leave it to the financial guy.

  Serena cackled. “Chase wouldn’t last a month married.”

  One too many drinks amped up my defenses. Indignant, I stared them down. “I could too. Marriage is easy. You give up on life and sit around in sweatpants, ordering takeout and watching reality TV.”

  Brynn shook her head. “Marriage is the best and hardest thing I’ve ever done. Serena is right, you’d end up with one of those Hollywood marriages that’s over in thirty-six hours.”

  “I would not. Just because I don’t want to get married doesn’t mean I’m incapable of making it work. Single by choice,” I reminded them, pointing to myself.

  And when the whole group laughed at me, I became more incensed than ever. It hadn’t been that long ago we’d all been single. Friday nights at Webster’s had started as a weekly tradition when Alec, Reid, Brynn, and I had turned twenty-one.

  Over time, the others in the group had found partners; Reid had met Jo in his university statistics class, and Brynn had met Serena at hot yoga.

  Now, it wasn’t often all four of us made it to the bar the same night. Most weeks, one or more of us had previous engagements, or in the case of Alec and me, dates. We opted to cancel on our friends for a chance at getting laid.

  Who wouldn’t?

  But over time, they’d brought their significant others, integrating them into the group, and now they were all ganging up on me. Even Alec, who was still unattached.

  Brynn pointed to him. “I’m not sure why you’re laughing, Alec. You’re just as bad.”

  Alec’s smile dropped and he scowled. “I’m not as bad as Chase.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she said.

  A part of me delighted in the fact I was no longer singled out as the pariah of the group. Glad to have a little company in my shame, I turned to Alec. “They’re jealous we still have our freedom, but if these douche bags can make it work, we totally could too.”

  “You want to attach a little wager to that claim?” Reid asked, one eyebrow lifted in challenge.

  “Name it,” I said with more confidence than I should have.

  He thought a moment before he spoke. “The loser has to come to Friday night drinks wearing heels and a mankini with a Justin Bieber tattoo on his ass.”

  “Does the tattoo have to be real?” Serena asked.

  Reid thought about it for a second. “Nah, temporary is acceptable, but it has to cover at least two-thirds of the cheek.”

  “Sounds fair to me,” I said, turning toward Alec. Dropping to one knee, I took his hand in mine.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Proposing. Don’t ruin it, asshole.” I straightened my tie. “Alec Gabriel Montero, will you marry me?”

  “Why me?” He looked baffled.

  “Brynn said I should marry my best friend. You’re my best friend, and I wasn’t the only one they were laughing at.” I stared at him for emphasis. “They think you’re as inept at maintaining relationships as I am. I could take the bet on my own, but you’re the only other single one in the group. You want me to have to find a perfect stranger to marry? How awkward would that be?”

  Alec rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll marry you. Fake marry you,” he clarified before grabbing my outstretched hand and pulling me to my feet.

  “Well, we’re certainly off to a romantic start.”

  “People are staring.”

  “Let them. I don’t care who knows we’re in love,” I declared with as much dramatic flair as I could manage after nearly a full pitcher of beer.

  The eye roll was back. “We’re going to need to set some ground rules.”

  “I agree,” Reid said. He paused, taking a sip of his beer, and I could practically hear the analytical
cogs in his brain turning.

  Jo chimed in while he was mulling over God only knew what. “It has to be as close to a real marriage as possible.”

  “True,” said Reid, looking very serious. Or at least I think he looked serious… things were starting to get very fuzzy. “You have to live together. Alec’s place is probably better.”

  “My place is bigger.”

  “Yeah, but mine doesn’t look like a miniature frat house,” Alec countered.

  “Hey,” I protested, but no one was listening.

  “You’ll need to share at least one meal every day with each other, sleep in the same bed, and at least one date night out a week.”

  For the next few minutes, my friends ironed out the details of my impending marriage. Alec was quiet on the subject, and I just sat listening. The longer they went on, the funnier I found it. I couldn’t wait for the end of the month when Reid showed up at Webster’s in the worst outfit of all time.

  While our friends were discussing our imminent nuptials, Alec and I escaped to grab fresh drinks at the bar.

  “You sure you want to do this?” he asked as we waited for the bartender to finish with the couple in front of us.

  “Sure, why not?” I shrugged. “How hard can it be? We’ll live together for a few weeks, and when it’s all over, we can rub their smug faces in the fact that they were all wrong. Seeing Reid try to walk in heels with nothing but a thin layer of spandex between his junk and the world will be the cherry on top of that sweet, sweet victory.”

  Alec grinned, his shoulders relaxing and his face lighting up when, I could only assume, he imagined Justin Bieber’s face on Reid’s ass.

  “Besides, how different can it be than when you let me crash at your place that time my apartment was being fumigated?”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t so bad.”

  “Not at all,” I agreed.

  We ordered our drinks and the bartender poured them with speedy efficiency, and by the time we arrived back at the table, Reid had drawn up a contract on the back of one of the cocktail napkins. It was all very official, and once Alec and I had read it over, we scrawled our signatures along the bottom.

  “Fabulous,” Jo said with enough enthusiasm to light up the whole bar. “Let’s go get you two hitched.”

  Serena took my hand and Brynn took Alec’s, and they led us out onto the street. The night was warm and balmy as the women pulled us after them down the block to the corner. There sat a boutique hotel, pushed back from the street. It was one of the historical properties in the city, transformed from family mansion to tourist mecca by some enterprising individual. All the charm remained, however, and the front yard was beautifully landscaped even in the cool of early spring.

  We ducked to the side, away from the main walkway, and Jo stood with her back to the carefully trimmed rose bushes.

  “Join hands,” she ordered, her own hands clasped in front of her.

  Reluctantly Alec took my hands, and we stood facing each other as the rest of our friends looked on.

  “Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Alec Gabriel Montero and Chase Edward Bradley in marriage.”

  I tried not to laugh. She looked so serious standing there, acting as our impromptu officiant. She cleared her throat.

  “Do you, Chase, take Alec to be your unlawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward, for the next thirty days?”

  I batted my eyelashes at him. “I do.”

  “And do you, Alec, take Chase to be your unlawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward, for the next thirty days?”

  When he answered, his voice was low and rough. “I do.”

  “Then by the power vested in me by Shock Top Ale from Webster’s, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss your husband.”

  I leaned forward, lips puckered. Alec pushed me back with the heel of his hand on my forehead.

  “I’m not kissing you.”

  I pulled his hand away and stepped in, catching him off guard as I pushed up to my toes to press my lips against his before he could stop me. He shoved me away again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, laughing as he did.

  “We’ve been married for all of thirty seconds and you’re already annoying.” He threw his arm around my shoulders and kissed my hair.

  “And think, you’ve got a whole month of this ahead of you. Just try not to fall in love with me, ’kay?”

  Alec grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

  Chapter Two

  Alec

  I woke up freezing and with something hard poking me. I turned my head, groaning as the room felt like it was dropping out around me. How many beers did I have the night before? I blinked twice, trying to focus my eyes, and saw Chase lying there, still asleep. He’d stolen every scrap of bedding during the night, and his elbow was currently wedged against my ribs.

  The night before came flooding back. The stupid wager, the fake wedding, and Chase passing out next to me in my bed.

  What the fuck had I been thinking?

  I shoved Chase off me and at the same time pulled the blankets back over, shielding my skin from the cool morning air. Chase grunted but didn’t get up. Instead, he bunched his pillow under his head and closed his eyes once more. I wasn’t used to sharing a bed, and I wanted to stretch out, but more than I needed to have the bed to myself, I needed to sleep off the rest of the hangover.

  The room spun and I closed my eyes.

  I woke up again several hours later. I still felt like shit. Fridays at Webster’s usually meant a couple of beers with friends before heading home and passing out for the night. To say it wasn’t typical for me to get sloppy drunk and agree to marry my best friend would be an understatement.

  I rolled over to see Chase’s side of the bed—or at least his side of the bed for the next thirty days—empty. Was it too much to hope he’d come to his senses and gone home? But I could hear the shower in the en suite bathroom. I groaned as I moved. I was way too old to be getting shitfaced.

  I stumbled out of my bedroom in search of coffee and was halfway through pouring water into the reservoir on the machine when Chase strolled into the kitchen, water dripping from his hair onto the floor.

  “Morning.” He walked over and pulled a mug from the cupboard beside me and placed it down on the counter next to mine.

  “You sure are making yourself at home quickly,” I said, knowing I was being a dick. Chase was my best friend. He’d spent almost as much time in my apartment as he had in his own, though it had been years since I’d played host to him for more than a few hours. However, when he was in my space, it felt like his space too.

  “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he countered.

  “Easy to do when someone else is taking up two-thirds of it.”

  Chase stared at me, a barely contained smile threatening to break through. I knew he was inwardly laughing at me, and that made me crankier.

  “Go have a shower and get dressed. I’m taking you for breakfast.”

  “I feel like shit. I don’t want breakfast, and I certainly don’t want to leave the house.”

  “Go get ready. We’re going. You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.”

  I stared at him but didn’t say anything. He stared back looking happy and smug at the same time. I wanted to hit him.

  Instead, I turned and walked to my room.

  The chorizo hash from Shorty’s down the block never failed to lift my mood, and Chase had been my friend long enough to know exactly how effective it was. He’d ordered for me as soon as we sat down. The waitress gave him a funny look, and I glared at him, but with a subtle shrug, she whisked herself away through the door to the kitchen.

  When the food arrived a few minut
es later, the scent of spicy sausage and melted cheese hit my brain, and I could already feel the tight knot of irritation loosening. As I dug in, the irascibility melted away with each bite, and by the time I’d cleared my plate, I was feeling much less homicidal.

  “Better?” he asked when the waitress had come to clear our plates.

  “Yeah,” I admitted.

  “Good. Thank God you’re so easily pacified with food, or we’d be proven wrong pretty quick. I don’t think we’d last a week married, let alone a month.”

  “You still want to do this?” I asked for what felt like the fiftieth time.

  “Yeah. I thought you got over your cold feet last night. It’ll be a piece of cake, and it’ll prove marriage isn’t everything they all say it is. Seriously.” He balled his napkin up and placed it on the table. “Mostly I want them to shut up and stop judging me for not having settled down already. Aren’t you getting tired of them being all uppity about you being single?”

  “I think you catch more flak for that than I do,” I said.

  “Yeah, what the fuck is with that?” Chase asked.

  “I don’t date around as much as you do.”

  “So I’m a slut.”

  “I didn’t say that. I just work longer hours than you, and my job is physical. I don’t have the energy to maintain a social life like you do.”

  “Maybe because you’re an old man,” Chase teased.

  “I am three months older than you, you dick.”

  “And apparently three months makes all the difference when it comes to stamina.” He laughed at his own joke. “Seriously, though, if you don’t wanna do this, we can call it off right now. We were all drunk. Reid probably won’t raze us too hard. Probably.”

  I took a moment to think about it. We’d never hear the end of it, backing out of a bet like that.

  “And besides, even if we lose, it wouldn’t be so bad. I personally think we’d look stunning in heels.”

  “We?” I asked. “Who said anything about we? You made that bet. I didn’t agree to the consequences. If this thing crashes and burns, that’s all you, buddy.”