Bad Wedding: A Bad Boy Romance Read Free Page A

night having fun, maybe in bed with some girl. I assumed he remembered his night with her.
    That thought just made me angrier. I didn’t greet him back, just looked down at what he was here to pay for, and then I paused in surprise.
    “Midol?” I said to him, raising an eyebrow.
    He didn’t blush or shift uncomfortably, just stared at me. “Megan,” he said again. “Ring it through.”
    It made no sense. Why was he buying Midol? I knew from Holly that Jason and his fiancée, Charlotte Davenport, had broken up. They’d been together for four years, while Jason was deployed in the Marines, but it had fallen apart after he’d come home. So he wasn’t buying Midol for Charlotte. The idea of Charlotte, the world’s most perfect blonde, needing Midol, or having bodily functions at all, was absurd anyway. She probably eased her menstrual cramps with the feathers of angel wings.
    Since the breakup, Jason hadn’t dated anyone else. That I knew of. Then why the hell was he buying Midol?
    He was looking impatient and annoyed, and that just made me contrary, so I picked up the Midol box and scanned it. Then I looked at the computer screen. “The price isn’t coming up right,” I said sweetly to Jason.
    He figured it out almost immediately—I’d give him that. Even tired and hung over, he figured it out. He closed his eyes, as if he had a pounding headache, as I picked up the intercom phone and pressed the ON button.
    “Price check,” I said into the intercom, hearing my voice reverberate through the store. There were shoppers in the aisles and at least four people in line behind Jason. “Price check on Midol. I repeat, Midol. Cash one.”
    Jason’s eyes were still closed, as if he was wishing he were somewhere else right now. “Megan,” he said again, his jaw clenched, “is this really necessary?”
    “I’m afraid it is,” I said to him. “You have to pay the right price, Jason. It’s important.”
    Doug appeared from around the end of the aisle. “Megan, that price check,” he called over the heads of everyone in line. “Is it regular strength Midol or extra strength Midol?”
    I made a show of lifting the box and checking it. “Extra strength, Doug,” I called back, my voice carrying. “Extra strength Midol.”
    “Sure thing,” Doug said, disappearing back down the aisle.
    “Oh, my fucking God,” Jason said softly.
    “I know. I’m sorry,” I said insincerely. “This will only take a minute. Then you can take your Midol, and your cramps will go away.”
    He lifted a hand—one big, long-fingered, well-formed, pure-sex hand—and scraped it slowly over his face. I could hear the rasp of his stubble, the sound reverberating straight between my legs. Damn him.
    “It’s for my mother,” he said.
    Oh. Right. He’d moved back in to his mother’s house after the breakup with Charlotte. I hadn’t thought of that. How old was Mrs. Carsleigh? Still young enough to need Midol, obviously. Which meant that Jason, at twenty-four, was still a guy who would get out of bed hung over on a rainy Sunday to buy his mother some Midol.
    Fuck.
    Doug came back and gave me the price. The computer had it right, of course. So I rang it through and took Jason’s money without another word. It didn’t matter that I’d been a bit of a bitch to him while he was doing something nice. It didn’t matter. He deserved it. I told myself that as I yanked the money out of his hand and dumped out his change. As I snapped the box of Midol into a bag and shoved it at him. Fuck you, Jason Carsleigh. Fuck you .
    He took his change and paused, as if considering saying something. “Jesus you’re pissed at me,” he said. “I wish I knew why.”
    He turned and walked away, his tall, muscled body moving easily in his sweatshirt and worn jeans.
    I watched him walk away, my stomach sinking.
    I wish I knew why.
    I did a quick calculation of the dates, and I realized with a sudden shock that I had hated him for just under five years.