Accidentally Married to My Brother's Best Friend

  Accidentally Married to my Brother's Best Friend

  Vesper Young

  Copyright © 2022 by Vesper Young

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Contents

  1. Daisy

  2. Connor

  3. Daisy

  4. Connor

  5. Daisy

  6. Connor

  7. Daisy

  8. Daisy

  9. Connor

  10. Daisy

  11. Connor

  12. Daisy

  13. Connor

  14. Daisy

  15. Daisy

  Epilogue: Daisy

  Want More Sweet and Steamy Romances?

  Also By Vesper Young

  About the Author

  Chapter one

  Daisy

  I blinked awake, a dreadful headache pulsing through my head like an echo of the music from last night.

  I wasn’t in my hotel room. A similar room, sure, but there were two clues it wasn’t my room. First, I was in a king-size bed rather than one of the two queens in the room I shared with Gwen.

  The second not-so-itty-bitty clue was currently poking into my backside.

  Oh. My. God.

  Had I taken some random guy home? That wasn’t my usual MO, but the small town I lived in didn’t offer a wide selection to begin with. Though what a coincidence my hookup had been at the same hotel.

  I risked a glance over my shoulder, trying not to move in case Mystery Man was still asleep.

  Oh.

  This was not some random guy.

  I gave myself a moment to take in the sight, the tousled hair, the bare torso I was prone to lusting after. I allowed myself that one precious moment to fantasize. Last night had put all sorts of ideas in my head. Dangerous ideas.

  Because somehow, with the craziness of last night, I’d done something so beyond colossally stupid.

  Bits and pieces were coming back to me. Calling Gwen a granny for going to bed early. Walking the Strip. Laughing at the sights. It was hard to remember details clearly as the night progressed.

  The body next to me loosed a groan, shifting while still half-asleep.

  And what a body it was. As he moved, I could feel every taut muscle press against me, taunting, teasing me. Every inch of my skin was electrified, desperate for the next touch. But I didn’t give in to that desire. Instead, I stayed frozen against the movement, like a bunny aware it’s suddenly gotten the attention of a tiger.

  “Fuck,” was the first word he said, a low rumble in a sleep-ravaged tone that had me pressing my legs together. His eyes squinted open, long lashes that, if replicated, could’ve sold for hundreds of dollars at Sephora framing his piercing green eyes.

  Connor O’Sullivan was not a morning person. Especially not if he had a hangover to match the one currently pounding through my skull. It felt like someone was trying to crack my skull open with a chisel.

  “Um, how much do you remember?” I asked, keeping my voice down to a whisper.

  He considered for a moment, those eyes widening slightly as if only now taking in my presence.

  “Enough to know I lost count of my drinks after the sixth beer.”

  “Did we, um...” I cast a glance at the messy sheets twisted around us.

  A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. I could feel it. Felt it travel down, far enough that I reflexively clenched my legs. “Now that I’d remember.”

  I blushed. It must’ve been the lingering effects of the alcohol, because Connor never said that kind of stuff to me.

  Never.

  Then again, he was just being a guy. Teasing me. His best friend’s little sister. To him, it was probably a step above a that’s-what-she-said joke.

  Not something meant to make my stomach do somersaults.

  I wanted to casually flirt back. Be cool. Savor the lazy expression on Connor’s face.

  Instead, I blurted, “Okay, in that case, do you remember that we got married last night?”

  His eyebrows quirked in confusion, then realization. Because, oh yes, we’d had the full, authentic Las Vegas experience and while I couldn’t remember it clearly, it was coming back in pieces that made me want to run away.

  Then someone knocked on the door.

  Chapter two

  Connor

  Daisy dove behind the bed, landing with a thud. She cast one furtive glance above, shooing me to the door, before ducking as low as she could.

  I had to suppress my laughter despite this awful headache.

  My first thought upon waking up was that I was dreaming. Daisy Lewis, lying next to me in bed.

  Typically, those dreams didn’t have us just lying around. No, they tended to be a lot more... active.

  I shook my head, refocusing. A glance down revealed I was only in boxer shorts, the way I normally slept. I pulled on my discarded jeans while the pounding grew louder. With my already aching head, someone banging on my door like a five-year-old with a sledgehammer on Halloween at a house that gave full-size Snickers was not helping.

  “I’m coming, hold your horses,” I groaned, finally crossing to the door.

  And there, mid-knock, was my sister Gwen.

  Shit.

  Panic was written all over her face. Not unusual. Gwen was a worrier, while I tended to keep calm under pressure. Still, there was something especially urgent about her panicked expression.

  “Daisy-isn’t-answering-her phone-and-she-didn’t-come-back-to-the-room-last-night,” she said, barely taking a breath.

  “It’s probably dead,” I assured her.

  “Where did you last see her?” she prodded. “You promised to keep an eye on her. And you just decided to sleep in?”

  “Uhh,” I hemmed and hawed for a second, trying to think of a way out. It wasn’t easy to lie to my little sister.

  In my hesitation, Gwen resorted to looking past me.

  “Wait a second, that’s her purse!”

  I cursed, turning to follow her gaze. Sure enough, there was an incriminating bag tossed opposite of where my pants lay.

  “Oh my God, Daisy!” Gwen was nearly shouting now.

  Daisy poked her head up from behind the bed, brown hair sticking out in every direction. She only raised her head high enough that her blue eyes could peer over the rumpled sheets.

  “Hey... Gwen...”

  Before either of us could offer a hasty explanation, a voice down the hall called, “Does he know where my sister is?”

  Daisy ducked her head back below the safety of the bed.

  Gwen looked at me. As siblings, you could sometimes silently communicate. Her expression demanded answers.

  I silently pleaded with her in that fraction of a second. I could explain to my sister, especially with Daisy’s help, but oh boy, Aaron? My best friend wasn’t just a little protective of his sister. It was like he had a black belt in it. I still got annual talks from him about the fact she was off-limits.

  Not that he had to tell me twice.

  And, especially hungover, I wasn’t prepared for what he’d have to say when he heard we’d gotten hitched.

  I took a half step out of the room and faced my best friend. “I can check her room after I shower. She may have headed back there in the time you guys have been running around the hotel.”

  “It’s not like she exactly spends a lot of nights out of her own bed,” Aaron said.

  I covered the displeased humph from the room with a cough, wanting to steer clear of the topic.

  Gwen, of
course, was quick to jump to her best friend’s defense. “Daisy gets around just fine.”

  Irrational jealousy flared in my chest. Of course, Daisy dated. She was attractive. Single. Professionally successful. She could have her pick of men. But it didn’t mean I wanted to hear about it.

  “Look, I’ll meet you guys in the lobby in half an hour.”

  The two of them retreated, Gwen still trying to get a look into my hotel room. I blocked her view with my body. When they both were gone, I let Daisy know the coast was clear.

  She stood from behind the bed. To disappointment that I carefully ignored, she had managed to pull the rest of her clothes on. “Well, not quite the wedding night I pictured,” she said nonchalantly.

  A laugh escaped from me at the absurdity of our reality. “You better go. I have no doubt my sister is lying in wait to find out from one of us what happened.”

  Daisy offered me a mock salute and headed out. For my part, I hadn’t been kidding about my plans to head to the shower.

  Under the water, the pounding of my head eased, making way for a dozen thoughts.

  For just one single moment, I allowed myself to imagine really being married. Wouldn’t that get my mother off my back. Every time she was about to get married, ironically, her attention turned to my relationship status.

  Ironic, since she was about to start marriage number six.

  I had conflicted feelings about marriage in general, in no small part due to my mother’s own repeated nuptials. Sometimes I thought I’d never get married. There’d be no marrying for the sake of having a wife, that was for sure. If I never met the woman who would be my other half, fine, I’d stay single. Better that than finding a placeholder.

  But if I did, I’d long decided I wanted something permanent. Funny, since it was the opposite of what I’d seen growing up. But I wanted to have it all, a family, someone to be devoted to.

  I couldn’t believe I’d married. Flippantly, apparently, since all it had taken were a dozen or so drinks between the two of us and an officiant who took cash.

  And I hadn’t married just anyone.

  No, I’d married the one woman I couldn’t have.

  Daisy Lewis.

  Chapter three

  Daisy

  I rushed back upstairs, taking the stairs to ensure I avoided Aaron. Mercifully, I hadn’t lost my key card in last night’s craziness and wasted no time changing into fresh clothes and fixing my horribly smudged make-up.

  The door swung open not five minutes later, and Gwen wasted no time marching over to where I was currently plucking a particularly frisky chin hair. (Something about hotel mirrors really let you see all your faults in high definition.)

  “Did you sleep with my brother?” she demanded.

  I froze, tweezers a scant inch from my face.

  “I know you’ve had a crush on him for the past decade, but I didn’t think you’d make a move on him at my mom’s wedding.”

  “Statistically, that is where I see him most these days,” I pointed out as I put the tweezers away, resigned to having this conversation with that awful hair on my face. “But no. I mean, we did technically sleep in the same bed but that’s because we were plastered and even three margaritas and four shots of Grey Goose in, I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Oh.” Gwen almost sounded disappointed. “So nothing happened?”

  I shifted back and forth on my feet. “That’s not exactly true.”

  And because Gwen was my best friend, I proceeded to word-vomit everything at her. The drinking after she and Aaron disappeared. The dancing.

  We’d decided to compete with our craziest moves. Connor mimed tossing a lasso over me and I spun and spun and spun until I stumbled and he caught me against his chest. His cologne teased my nose, somehow overpowering every other sense I had.

  The wandering around, checking out Vegas’s various late-night offerings.

  We’d walked along the Strip, pausing to watch a juggler toss and catch an increasingly concerning quantity of dildos outside a sex shop. When the juggler finished his routine, he informed me he’d give out a sample but I was clearly getting something even better. Connor had just laughed and led me away, hand resting on the small of my back while we found the next attraction.

  The conversation about what it meant to be married, which was timed perfectly with us finding perhaps the least ethical officiant in the state.

  “What would make you marry a girl?” I asked after we passed our third set of bachelorettes and company at various stages of drunk.

  He’d considered for a moment. “She’d have to be funny, kind. Adventurous. Willing to put down roots and raise our family with me.”

  “I don’t know how much of an adventure you can have if you’re buying a white picket fence the day after you meet.”

  He chuckled, though it came out funny since even Connor, who was always so controlled, was well and truly plastered. Maybe it was cruel of me to bring the topic up. His mother’s weddings were never easy for him. “There’d be lots of adventure anywhere we went.”

  We continued walking for a moment.

  “She’d have to be quick to call me on my bullshit.” He stopped walking and I turned to face him. He lifted a stray lock of my brown hair between his fingers. “Maybe if I’m lucky she’ll be a brunette.”

  My cheeks heated, and it wasn’t the flush of liquor or the heat of the summer night that made him smile. I wanted to lean into his touch, to feel it all over. The night was as intoxicating as the alcohol.

  “But I doubt I’ll ever have a woman like that. I suppose it’d be impossible to have a marriage that perfect.” He dropped my hair and kept walking.

  Even with my stumbling walk, I caught up easily. He’d never leave me behind anyway. “It doesn’t sound so impossible. Maybe a marriage is never perfect, but it can be enough that you wouldn’t want it to be any other way.”

  His smile looked a little sad.

  Getting married. The fact it had felt like one big joke, but at the same time, to my drunken mind, it felt like a chance. The way we’d finally stumbled back to the hotel room and collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion.

  I omitted the little flirty exchange from the morning. Gwen was my best friend, but she was also Connor’s sister, and I didn’t want to make her gag.

  “I’d ask if this is some elaborate prank, but I don’t think even you could make this up, Daisy.”

  I shook my head. “It’s still so messy in my head, but...”

  I trailed off and went over to dig through my purse. I presented her with the carelessly crumpled piece of paper that served as our marriage certificate.

  “We haven’t even spoken about it. I mean, it should be no biggie to get it annulled, I guess.”

  Gwen shook her head. “They don’t treat those things lightly.”

  “You sure?”

  She rolled her eyes at me and gave me a look, like, Are you for real?”My mother has been married five times, and I’ve handled the paperwork of her past two divorces. Trust me, I’m basically an expert.” Gwen was a paralegal.

  “We’ll figure out it. I’m not losing custody of Hamburger,” I informed her. Hamburger, of course, was my cat who was currently being pet-sat by my parents. When I picked him up, he’d probably cry bloody murder—at the fact I was taking him away from a near unending supply of treats. My parents had come to Ms. O’Sullivan’s first four weddings. But with my dad’s heart condition, they’d given up on traveling for the most part. Their focus had mainly turned to Aaron and me, but since Aaron was a compulsive workaholic, mainly me. A grandfurbaby was only going to fill the empty nest for so long for them, my mother informed me.

  Still, that furbaby was mine, and I wasn’t giving him up for anything. If Connor wanted custody, he should’ve put it in our non-existent prenup.

  I said as much to Gwen.

  “I’m sure that won’t be an issue. Certainly not compared to every other aspect of this mess.” But she smiled as she said it, an
d I knew we’d moved past the awkwardness of me sort-of-marrying-and-sleeping-with her brother. If only my own was that easy.

  Rather than face the problem further, we met up with the others and resolved to spend the day at the hotel pool. The wedding wasn’t until the evening, after all.

  That didn’t stop Connor and, by extension, Aaron from getting roped into last-minute preparations, toing and froing people from the airport right up until the ceremony started. Apparently Husband the Sixth had a large guest list.

  It was hard to tell if I was disappointed or not that Connor wasn’t there. I’d had a crush on him for years, always looking to spend time with him even if I knew it’d never go there. Joking around, teasing him until we cried from laughter while secretly I was pining for him was comfortable for me. Now that we were married, I didn’t know where we stood. What had been an easy friendship was suddenly much more complicated.

  Chapter four

  Connor

  I wish I could say I remembered much of my mother’s sixth wedding, but it’d be a lie. Well, I did remember some things. Mainly everything that had to do with Daisy Lewis.

  The way she moved easily through a crowd of strangers and friends alike, charming them with her easy smile. The way she pulled Gwen from the corners, knowing full well my sister hated these weddings even more than I did, for many reasons, but Daisy never engaged with her out of pity, only love. The way that hideous brown—tapioca, I think they called it?—bridesmaid dress hugged her curves.

  It was like I was seeing her for the first time.

  The wedding and reception took place in a barn, of all places. A fancy Vegas-esque barn, of course. One where hay was replaced with confetti and every exposed beam of wood was covered in steamers. A bit ironic, considering I knew for a fact my mother had grown up on a farm hundreds of miles away. It made for an unusual choice, made no less strange by the insistence on evening attire rather than jeans and cowboy boots.