Knot so Lucky (The holidates series Book 2)
Knot so Lucky: Chapter 8

eleanor

Oof, I shouldn’t be holding his hand. I just told him I never double dip, but here I am, prepping to do just that. He’s just so fucking dreamy, and that kiss… If my pussy was previously in a coma, it’s now revived and doing lunges, getting ready for round two.

I mean, what’s the worst that could happen if we hook up again? It’s not like either of us is trying to be in a relationship anytime soon, that’s for sure. And Crew isn’t a fall-for-the-girl type. Soo, maybe we could…

No, nope, negatory. What am I thinking?

The last time I thought a guy and I could swing casual sex ended with him showing up at the salon. Without an appointment. While I was waxing some dude’s ass.

The poor client was literally head down, ass up, and that psychopath busted in to show me a portrait of my fucking face that he got tattooed on his chest.

Guys get addicted when the girl is down to keep things simple. You suddenly start becoming the one. And no matter how easy breezy Crew comes off, I do not need another portrait of me out in the fucking wild.

I look up at Crew as we take the steps, but my eyes narrow because I just thought to myself—maybe he’s different. Gross.

Talk about famous last words. Why can’t there be a test? A way to know he won’t turn into a walking museum of me.

Ooo, hold up. Have I just solved my own problem with a genius thought?

Yes—if I take my hand away and he tightens trying to keep it, I stick to my guns. But if he lets it go easily, then it’s cock-a-doodle-me time. I feel like this could work…

The real question is: Have I lost my mind to horniness? Maybe… do I care? Not really.

But before I can test my theory, Crew’s lawyer interrupts my plan.

“It’s about time you got here. Fuck, Crew. It’s not a good look to make a judge wait.” Law and Order looks at me, adding, “Excuse my French. Hi, I’m Joshua Maroney, your lawyer for the day.”

I grin. “I don’t speak French, Stabler, so you’re good. Just make sure your fee is covered by the other guy.”

I think I’m funny, and apparently, he does too because the Gabriel Macht look-alike huffs a laugh as he starts up the stairs, glancing over his shoulder to throw out, “Technically, Elliot Stabler’s a detective. I’m a lawyer. But don’t worry, I do pro bono work.” He holds the door open for us to walk inside the building, offering his words to Crew this time. “You sure you don’t want to stay hitched? She’s funny.”

No, thanks blasts from our mouths simultaneously before we look at each other and smile.

“Come on, then, lovebirds. Let’s hope we didn’t piss off the judge.”

crew

I like the way her hand fits in mine.

And I’m tempted to keep holding it, but I can’t because that’s the kind of shit that makes the day go from legendary to restraining order. Thank fuck Josh interrupted because my dick was robbing me of blood flow to my fucking brain.

I was dangerously close to doing something stupid because I know how girls are.

Even with as cool as Eleanor is and as much as she talks a good game about hooking up, even she has a thing…something that’ll make her think we’re a possibility. That there’s untapped potential here, and eventually, four little irrational words will make all the sense in the world to her: I can change him.

It won’t matter that I’ve been completely straightforward with my intentions. I’ll be a guy who broke her heart. No way am I setting myself up for that shit.

I need to let her hand go before I look like boyfriend material. As I’m thinking it, Eleanor slips her hand from mine, so I let it go without hesitation because I’d be a fool to pass up divine intervention.

Still, the irony isn’t lost on me. I chuckle to myself, realizing how crazy it is that I’m worried my wife might fall for me.

As if I beckoned her with my thoughts, she looks up, our smiles meeting.

Begrudgingly, I look away because Josh has stopped in front of a door with a gold nameplate affixed to the front before turning to address us in the vacant hallway.

“Listen up, kids. Although it’s uncommon for the judge to ask us to chambers, I figure he understands the need for privacy because of who Crew is. Honestly, I’ve never had a client stupid enough to do something like this, so I’m not sure what to expect.” Josh smiles apologetically at Eleanor. “Sorry, no offense.”

The way she shrugs makes me grin because Eleanor defines nonchalant.

“None taken. It was super dumb…honestly, it makes me regret saying yes. I’d always hoped my first husband would be smarter.”

Josh laughs as I nudge her. But his eyes linger. The fuck? It’s enough to make me clear my throat and make him grin, and he looks at me, saying, “Sorry,” before he switches back to professional mode.

“Listen, when we walk in there, just smile and nod. And whatever you do, lie about remembering last night… You two were blackout drunk. Understand? I figured an annulment was best, and that defense is our only hope. God willing, in the next ten minutes, it’ll be like last night never happened.”

Eleanor tilts her head toward me, so I lean down for her to whisper in my ear as Josh knocks on the door.

“Nice lawyer. Do you have to pay extra when he encourages you to lie?”

There she goes, pulling another smile out of me. I capture my bottom lip between my teeth and let it drag out slowly before I launch more playful sarcasm in her direction. I can’t help it. This girl brings out the devil in me.

“You’re right. We should tell the truth. Do you want to tell the judge about when your mouth was around my cock while your pussy was getting double-fed? Or should I?”

I don’t miss how her eyes turn into saucers as she chuckles quietly, breathing, “I hate you.”

I wink. “So we are lying, then?”

My hand drops to the small of her back, ushering her through the door and feeling her pinch my side before she follows Josh, and I hold back a laugh.

A portly, half-balding, older man in a black robe sits behind a massive oak desk, smiling tightly as we walk in, and Josh greets him.

“Judge Reynolds. Thank you so much for doing this on such short notice. We understand how important your time is. We’ll be as quick as possible so we’re out of your hair.”

Josh motions to two chairs in front of the desk for Eleanor and me as he continues, placing a thick packet of paperwork on the judge’s desk.

“I’ve prepared the paperwork. It’s very straightforward. Both parties agree to no exchange of any personal assets, and there is no community property. They’re also requesting an annulment. Neither party was capable of agreeing to the marriage due to the level of alcohol in their respective systems. To be frank, Judge, my clients got blackout drunk and then married. Both parties would appreciate a swift no-fault wrap-up.”

Jesus, way to cut to the fucking chase. I look at Josh, shaking my head, but he shrugs.

The judge nods as I stand beside Eleanor’s chair until she sits before taking my own.

Everyone is silent. The only sound is the crinkling of the paperwork as the judge flips through it. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Josh has stepped behind us, standing between our chairs, but I don’t get the sense he’s nervous about anything. I figure it’s a good idea to treat this like the rules on a plane.

If the flight attendant panics, then we’re going down.

I’m midway through my thought when the cell in my hand vibrates, catching my attention. A smile burgeons on my face. Sneaky, sneaky.

That girl I married: I just want you to know that you’re my soulmate. They can take away my last name, but they can never take away our love—also, refresh my memory? What’s your last name?

I look up, trying and failing to hide the smile on my face. She’s ridiculous. My eyes tick over to her, but she’s staring straight ahead at the judge, who’s still looking at the paperwork.

We’re like two kids in middle school passing notes when we’re not supposed to.

And I like it.

I’m already texting back, ignoring Josh as he taps my shoulder.

Me: LISTEN. I’ll call this thing off right now. Don’t tempt me with a lifetime of YOU. But how do I know you’re not just leading me on? You’re an admitted heartbreaker.

That girl I married: No, YOU listen… There’s nothing sweeter than meeting your soulmate and finding out he likes it when his friends fuck you too. Now I know why the lord gave me one heart and three holes.

I cough. It’s all I can do to hide the laugh that refuses to stay in. It’s not fair that she’s this funny.

Fuck, now everyone’s looking at me. Even the judge.

“Are you okay, son?”

I tap my chest with my fist a couple of times, pretending to clear whatever’s there before he adds, “Crew. Matthews. This is quite the surprise seeing you here.”

I smile and nod, just like I was told, not even tempting fate with a glance in her direction. We’re not allowed to sit together anymore. No more divorces for us.

The judge’s voice commands the room as if he’s comfortable pontificating.

“I would have thought in the weeks leading up to training camp, you would only have football on your mind.” He glances at Eleanor and then back to me. “But I guess there are distractions everywhere, even for the best of the best.”

What the fuck?

All the humor I felt is immediately gone as my brows pull together while he looks down at the paperwork.

I don’t like his tone or his implication. But mostly, the way it involves Eleanor. I start to lean forward to say some shit, but Josh’s hand lands solidly on my shoulder, a whispered “smile and nod” added. So, I let out a silent breath and relax back into the chair.

Judge Reynolds lifts the paper before addressing us again.

“You understand that your attorney stated you didn’t know what you were doing. Because in order for me to agree to an annulment, that would mean you were too incapacitated to understand what you were entering into.” He looks up, adding, “I believe the term was blackout drunk…”

I can feel Eleanor looking at me, so I meet her eyes and smile, reassuring her before we both look back and nod. There’s no turning back now.

But Judge Reynolds is staring us down, his eyes volleying between us before zeroing in on me again.

“Lying to a judge, even in chambers, can be considered perjury. I offer this because blackout would indicate—say, if I had video of the two of you—that you would be so drunk you couldn’t stand or speak, let alone say I do.”

He pauses like he’s waiting for one of us to come clean. I glance over at Eleanor, and she’s sitting there like a gangster, riding and probably dying on the inside but still holding strong with an incredibly unnerved demeanor.

If I ever hit hard times and rob a casino, I’m doing it with her. She’s my Ocean’s Eleven…TJ would’ve already caved.

I cross my arms just as Josh begins to speak. Except the judge holds up a hand, halting him, as he keeps my gaze.

“Or maybe Crew here has become too comfortable telling lies.”

“Say what?” Eleanor mutters under her breath, her eyebrows hitting the ceiling.

No shit. My face swings over my shoulder as Josh steps forward.

“I apologize, Judge Reynolds, but is there an issue? I don’t understand why my client is being impugned—”

“Well, Mr. Maroney, you have two problems. Let’s start with the first one. After reviewing these files—” Reynolds breathes out, tapping the paperwork. “—and after doing a bit of research…” He reaches for his cell phone and swipes it open before turning it around, showing a video cued.

“What the—” falls from my lips before Eleanor cuts me off.

“Oh my god. Is that my fucking Instagram?”

Josh coughs, so she looks at him and shrugs, answering the shut the fuck up on his face.

“What? Excuse my French now. But that’s my private Instagram.” She turns back to Judge Reynolds. “It shouldn’t count.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What the fuck shouldn’t count? Oh shit, this is what he meant by video.

“It’s not private if it’s public, young lady,” the judge snarks before touching the Play button.

I whip my face to hers as Josh speaks under his breath, but drunk cheers from the phone fill the room.

“What shouldn’t count? What’s on there?”

I glare at him. “You didn’t fucking look for anything?”

“You said there wasn’t anything to see.”

“I said I wasn’t sure.”

Eleanor doesn’t add anything because she’s already leaning forward, slightly cringing, taking in the screen. So I do the same.

Why does this feel like the beginning of the end?

Jesus, we sound as smashed as we look. Which is bad for present-day us because we only look a smashed five on a scale of one through ten. We’re in front of the chapel, TJ in that fucking Elvis jumpsuit and Millie holding up what looks like plastic bouquets. Everyone is howling and shouting because Eleanor’s legs are wrapped around my waist as we kiss like we need each other for actual fucking air.

“Pay attention. This is the good part,” the judge adds with a smile, making our heads lift before we’re sucked back in.

Oh fuck. I let out a heavy breath, watching drunk Eleanor lift one arm and look directly into the camera, shouting, “I just married Crew Matthews. He’s my husband, bitches.”

My own drunk-as-hell voice is right behind her. “Gimme a kiss, baby. You’re Mrs. Matthews now. Fuck Thomas.”

Jesus. Damn. Christ. We are so done. Those aren’t people that need to be propped up or even helped to their beds with a bucket by the side. Those are just two horny fucking morons doing some dumb shit.

“Looks like you have been caught red-handed in a lie, Mr. Matthews…” The judge looks at Eleanor, adding, “And Mrs. Matthews.”

“What’s the punishment for perjury?” I say well under my breath to Josh, who shakes his head just as Eleanor’s saucer-sized eyes catch mine.

Judge Reynolds cuts the video right in the middle of our sloppy make-out and begins shuffling the paperwork. But Eleanor’s eyes are still popping out of her head as she looks back at Josh and then at me, hissing under her breath.

“I knew this was a bad idea. P.S. No thanks for making my last name the only one you remember in life. You’re an idiot. It’s probably all the balls to the head.”

“This is my fault?” I shoot back. “Who has a public-private Instagram for people to find damning evidence? What are you, eighty? Learn how to work technology.”

She rolls her eyes, but I stare at her profile for a hard second before returning to the judge, who looks up and smiles.

“Annulment denied. So now you’re going to ask me for a civil divorce…that’s problem number two. For both parties to obtain a divorce in the state of Nevada, one of them must be a resident. Otherwise, you’ll have to file in your home state. Which, if the records are correct, is California. And that’ll take six months.”

Eleanor sucks in a gasp, adding, “Oh god… wait, he lives here…”

“Yeah, I’m a resident,” I say too quickly, feeling her hand grip my forearm because we’re each hoping the universe is throwing us a life vest, but the judge cuts me off.

“You live in a hotel, Mr. Matthews. That’s not a permanent residence. Unless you have a PO Box or utility bill, I can’t help you.”

“Judge,” Josh presses, “I know you’re aware that Crew plays for the Raiders, so—you have the power to declare him a good-faith citizen.”

The judge fucking chuckles like Josh is missing the point. It’s enough that Josh stops talking as Eleanor and I look at each other.

What the fuck is happening?

My head whips over my shoulder to Josh, the look on my face loosely translating into Are we going down? Because if he’s my fucking flight attendant into the maiden voyage of my divorce, I kind of need to know where we’re at.

And telling by how hard he just swallowed, the answer is we lost an engine and are careening toward the fucking ground.

“Thank god,” Eleanor gasps, smacking my arm to get my attention before I follow to where she’s pointing as she adds, relieved, “He’s a fan.”

Holy shit.

Josh taps her shoulder as all the color in my face drains, trying to get her to shut up, but she doesn’t. Because we see something she doesn’t.

Judge Reynolds is wearing a Raiders jersey. But not just any jersey. It’s a special edition that only the owner gave out to his close friends. I know because I had to sign twenty of them right before the Super Bowl.

The Super Bowl I lost before going on a tirade and telling the owner to suck my dick on ESPN. Now it all makes sense.

Fuck. My. Life.

This is payback for the trade. For fucking the Raiders the way I felt like they’d fucked me.

Eleanor’s voice has my hand lifting to her face to cover the whole thing as I feel myself sweating like I’ve run five miles. I’m having a heart attack. Maybe it’s for the best, just bury me in my failed hopes and goddamn dreams.

“Do you want him to sign something?” she rushes out, swatting my hand away, sounding confused as she adds, “What are you doing?” before she motions for me to stand up. “Get up and let him see you do something footbally.”

“Stop talking,” I breathe out, turning to look at her. “He knows the owner, Eleanor. Reynolds isn’t our judge by accident. Do you remember what I told you last night?”

She swallows, and I know she’s remembering me telling her the whole story. All about how I went off on the owner, how I not only agreed to a trade but was stealing away Nate and TJ too. It takes seconds that feel like minutes before she grips the arms of the chair and slinks down with a guttural “Noooo, this isn’t happening. Tell me this isn’t happening.”

Judge Reynolds props his hands behind his head with a grin on his face like he’s enjoying every moment of our spiral before he speaks.

“To declare Mr. Matthews a citizen of Las Vegas would be a lie, Mr. Maroney. Because in order to do so, there would need to be evidence that he’s planning an indefinite stay.” His eyes are locked on mine. “And from what I hear, that simply isn’t the case, unless the Niners are coming to Vegas. So it’s my order that Mr. and Mrs. Matthews will remain married for no shorter than thirty days. Residing in the city of Las Vegas…without stepping one foot outside its city limits. Giving their commitment due diligence and so therefore obtaining residency before they may come before me again.”

“Fuck,” Josh breathes out as I think it.

That’s when pandemonium ensues.

I’m on my feet, voice thundering, and Eleanor is lobbing insults like hammers as Josh unsuccessfully tries to shut us the fuck up.

“Fuck you, Judge Judy.” … “Thirty days means I miss training camp with the Niners.” … “You can’t just force me to stay here for a month? I have a whole life outside of this fucking city.” … “Thirty days means my fucking deal could go south.” … “This isn’t fair. I have work, friends, and work.” … “You tell that son of a bitch nice try. I’ll make his life hell.” … “How am I supposed to explain this to my family?” … “You can make us stay married for forever. It won’t fucking change—”

Before I can finish my threat, a body climbs me like a fucking tree, legs wrapped around my waist, mouth suddenly sealing over mine.

Eleanor’s kissing me. She’s got herself wrapped around me so one of my arms is trapped between her crotch and my body as she clings to me for dear life, mumbling, “Shut your dumb mouth,” in between shoving her tongue inside.

“I’m filing a motion—” Josh rushes out, but I don’t hear the rest of what he says.

Because I’m trying to break free from her, but the intrusion of her fucking tongue in my mouth and the way she keeps lifting her body to stay up…rubbing her pussy on my arm, makes me grab her ass and kiss her back.

Hard.

She pulls back after a minute and looks me dead in the eyes. “I really don’t want to get fucked by him for longer than thirty days. You feel me? Shut your mouth.”

My chest is heaving. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m mad or turned on. Either way, I nod until the sound of the judge’s robe zipping up draws both our eyes.

Reynolds smirks.

“Looks like you lovebirds have some things to work out. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my day, but I expect I’ll see you back here in thirty days with a new level of respect for my friends and for Raider Nation. Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. And remember, what happens in Vegas is now ordered to stay in Vegas.”

He walks past us as we watch quietly, my hand on her ass, holding her up. Neither of us moves until well after we hear the door shut.

But as soon as it does, Eleanor lets out a heavy breath before smacking my chest with both hands.

“Raider Nation?” She huffs an empty laugh. “I hate football. Put me down.”

My jaw tenses before I drop her, making her squeak before her ass hits the chair. We glare at each other, neither of us giving in first. Because the only thing I truly know is that right now, Eleanor wishes she’d never met me.

And I feel the exact same.

“So, hubby, where do we live?”

“In hell, wifey. In. Fucking. Hell.”

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