The Marriage Secret

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 ~ Scotty ~

My name is Scotty...Well, Maxwell Prescott, but everyone calls me Scotty. At least my friends do, and it has been a very long time since I've seen them. A decade. I missed them a lot, especially when I need someone to talk to about how dismal my life was. Working a low salary, dead-end job in my father's company was not how I saw my life going when I was at the university, but it wasn't like I had a choice. My stepmother controlled every aspect of my life.

When an incredibly sexy bartender stumbled into my life, I wanted one thing that my stepmother didn't control. I wanted Beck, and when I go him, I didn't want to give him up. My stepmother had other plans. She'd handpicked my bride, and it wasn't Beck. I have to do something to escape this money-grubbing witch, and I know just the people to call.

~ Beck ~

Scotty walking into my life had been a surprise, and a wonderful one. I could easily see myself spending the rest of my life with him. That life would be a whole lot easier to live if the both of us weren't hiding in the closet. Unfortunately, hiding our relationship from everyone is our only choice. The only way that Scotty can see his father once a week is if he stays under his stepmother's control.

That choice gets a whole lot harder when Scotty suddenly becomes engaged, and not to me. Instead of being heartbroken, I decide to do everything within my power to help Scotty escape, but the plan we devise comes with danger, to me, to Scotty, and to his stroke-ridden father. If we fail, none of us may get out of this alive.

  ~ Scotty ~

"I got a promotion."

I was still wondering how the fuck that had happened?

"You what?" my co-worker Fredrick Wilson asked as he sat down in the booth across from me.

"I got a promotion." I swallow down my disbelief. "Mr. Henderson gave me a promotion. Level three accounts." 

When he called me to his office, I had been sure I was about to be fired. Granted, I couldn't think of a reason to be fired, but it happened all the time. The turnover rate in the accounting department was epic.

"Holy fucking shit!" Freddy's eyes are huge. "Level three. That's awesome."

It was kind of awesome. 

I'd started at out entry level with the company when I had returned after my father had a stroke. Instead of taking over my father's company as I thought I would be doing, I had been forced to start at the bottom doing data entry for various accounts. 

Over time, I'd attended as much night school as I could afford on my meager salary and finally finished my degree in accounting a few years ago. The sleepless nights had paid off and I'd been promoted to the accounting department.

Now, I'd gone from level one accounts, which were just basic accounts, to level three. Mid-level accounts. My goal was to eventually make it to the top of the accounting department. 

Since my stepmother ran the company, I knew I would never make it to CEO, even if I had been promised that since birth by my father. She would make sure of that. 

Cynthia Prescott was in total charge of Prescott Textiles, and of me. I had to do whatever she wanted if I wanted access to my father, who still suffered from the stroke he'd had ten years ago.

It was a price I willingly paid to see my father once a week.

"We should celebrate," Freddy said. "I'll call the guys and have them join us."

That actually sounded pretty good, and it was Friday. I didn't have to report back for work for two more days. I didn't get to visit my father until Sunday. 

I was only ever able to visit my father on Sundays.

"I'll order us some drinks."

Freddy nodded absently as he pulled out his cell phone and started tapping away. I got up and made my way over to the bar, waving down the bartender.

As I waited for him to finish helping another customer, I took the time to admire the handsome man. He was a few inches shorter than me, but still tall enough.

He had short brown hair cut high on the sides and back, but longer on top. I suspected he used some sort of hair product to give that artful messy look as if he had just climbed out of bed. There was a bit of a hair on his chin and a mustache, both of which framed his plush lips perfectly.

The deep brown eyes were a surprised, especially when they widened when the man looked in my direction. The wide grin that came immediately after was ego boosting.

"What can I get you?" 

"I need two cherry bombs."

"Cherry bombs." I got a squint of confusion. "I don't think I've actually heard of that drink before."

"Oh, it's easy to make."

"Yeah?" When the guy rested his hand on the bar top, his finger grazed my hand. I thought it was an accident until he brushed my hand again.

I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Just how do you make it, handsome?" 

Okay, so it hadn't been an accident.

"Got a piece of paper and a pen?" I asked. "I can write it down for you."

The guy winked at me. "Sure."

He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from next to the cash register and brought it back to me. I quickly wrote down all of the ingredients, including the amounts for each, and then, after shooting a quick look toward the table where Freddy sat, I added my phone number near the top.

The bartender picked it up and stared down at it for a moment before another wide grin crossed his lips. "I think I have everything you need."

"Oh, I'm sure you do."

He set two glasses down in front of him, added ice to both of them and then grabbed a mixing glass. With paper in hand, he went to the rows of alcohol on the shelf behind him. One by one, he grabbed them and added them to the mixing glass.

Once he had everything mixed, he held up the piece of paper. "Mind if I keep this?"

"I'd be sad if you didn't."

"I'm Beck," he said as he set the two cherry bombs in front of me.

"Scotty," I replied.

"Enjoy you're drinks, Scotty."

"Oh, I'm sure I will." I'd enjoy it more if my friends were gone and I could openly flirt with Beck, and man, I wanted to flirt with him. It wasn't often I met someone as sexy as him that was interested.

The things I wanted to do to that man.

Hopefully, he'd use that phone number I gave him and call me.