Page 21
“Are you nervous?” Regan’s twin brother, Colt, chuckles as he comes up behind me, squeezing my shoulder with enough force to be borderline hostile.?
A day ago, I was attending a funeral for a woman I barely knew—an old lady who, apparently, was like a mother to the woman I had a one-night stand with seven years ago. That same woman who now, by some cosmic joke, lives in the small town that I moved to after finishing school.
And today?
I’m marrying her. Because that same old woman conned me into it.
For the deal of a lifetime. A practically free property, hundreds of acres of land for my horses to roam, and a future I can actually picture for myself.
The next phase of my life. I just didn’t expect to have a wife of convenience moving into this phase.
Oh, or four new brothers-in-law who are extremely protective of their sister and family name. One of whom is currently staring me down like he’s waiting for me to break and run out of here.
Honestly, the whole thing feels like something straight out of a comedy because there’s no way I thought trading my wild boy lifestyle as a bull rider to become a physician would eventually land me getting married to a woman I hardly know.
The progression of my life since retiring from the circuit has been nothing short of bizarre.
Colt—the former convict brother , is built like a wrecking ball, and about as friendly-looking as a rabid wolf.
He’s standing next to me now inside of the courthouse where I’m about to get married.
He’s big, mean, burly, and I don’t think I’ve seen him smile once since meeting him.
Tattoos snake up his arms and disappear under the sleeves of a dress shirt that looks like it hasn’t seen daylight since his high school graduation.
His biceps are the size of my damn head, and his hair is shaved short on his head.
Now, I’m a big guy. Had to be to ride bulls and make it to the top without getting my back broken every night. But this guy? It looks like all he did behind those bars was lift weights and get inked. I need to ask Regan why he was locked up in the first place so I can at least prepare myself.
With all that said, I kind of like him. And though he hasn’t cracked a grin in my direction yet, I don’t think he outright hates me, which in my book, is a win. Because I’m marrying his twin, and he just met me. I’d be pissed if someone did that with my little sister.
“Nah, not nervous,” I lie, even though my gut is telling me to turn around and run out of here.
Did I ever picture myself getting married? Absolutely not. I know how that sounds. Forty-one years old and never even considered it. But no, I haven’t. Marriage? Commitment? I’ve always known that wasn’t for me.
My dad was a shit father and an even worse husband. And I’ve always figured, if the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I’d be the same.
But beyond that? The responsibility of a wife, the expectation that I’d need to be good to someone all the time, that I’d stay attentive and sensitive, that I’d never be the reason she cried herself to sleep at night because I somehow hurt her?
No. I wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that.
Because I’m sure I’ll fuck up somehow along the way.
Not in the ways that my dad did, but in a new way.
It’s in my DNA. So, I never let it get to that point.
And that’s exactly why I agreed to this thing today because Regan swore it’d be on paper only.
Swore we wouldn’t make it weird. Swore we were doing this for the love of the property and not love of each other. This is for the business.
And I believe her. Hell, I have no reason not to.
She’s never once made me feel like she has feelings beyond our one-time hookup.
If anything, I’m probably more into her than she is into me.
But more than that, I can see how much she loves Mrs. Mayberry’s place.
That kind of love? It’s rare. And I’ll gladly help her get the farm if it means keeping that love alive and getting my own dreams out of it.
So, no commitments.
No crying herself to sleep.
No arguments that stretch into the silent treatment.
No going to bed angry since there will be nothing for us to fight about.
No chance for me to fuck it all up because there’s nothing to fuck up.
We’re just two people, committed to a property that we fell in love with.
Colt chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as we wait for Regan and her witness—his wife, Molly—to show up.
“Was your wedding anything like this?” I ask, mostly to fill the silence and get him to distract me from my bouncing knees and sweaty palms.
Colt turns to me, his dark eyes cutting straight through my damn soul.
“No. Because when I said those ‘I dos,’ I meant them. I vowed to protect Molly until the day I die. To love her unconditionally. And I’ve done that. I will always do that.” His brow lifts, like he’s daring me to say something.
I feel the urge to clarify; to remind him this isn’t like that. That this is a business transaction, nothing more, which he already knows. But before I can, he shakes his head and keeps going.
“This is just a marriage of convenience for you two, I get it. Regan explained to me Mrs. Mayberry’s rules,” Colt says, his voice low and firm.
“But let me make one thing clear to you first, if you’re gonna be dicking around town with other women during this marriage, you damn well better not stop Regan from doing the same and you better keep your shit discrete, so you don’t embarrass her.
She deserves to find a real husband. She deserves to be loved too.
So, if she brings someone home, don’t say shit about it or we’ll have a problem. ”
He cracks his knuckles loudly but that isn’t what intimidates me. Because yeah, I know what Regan said. No feelings. No expectations. No strings. What bothers me is the thought about us dating other people while married.
Do I have time to date? No.
Will I eventually? I’m sure. I mean, I just got to town, but I know I’ll get lonely and horny.
Just like she will.
And will I be okay with her bringing other men home to our house?
Will I be okay with her having sex with them in the bedroom next to mine?
Will I be okay hearing that?
Will I be okay when she falls in love with one of them, marries them, and moves out?
It’s a strange thought and one that I don’t want to analyze too much because I must be okay with all that. Colt’s right. I don’t want anything more anyways. I can’t say a damn thing about what she does after we say our ‘I dos.’
I nod. “Got it.”
The courthouse doors burst open, and Regan rushes in, cheeks flushed, breathless, wearing nothing but Levi’s cutoff shorts and a white tank top.
Meanwhile, I’m standing here in khakis and a button-up like some idiot who wasn’t sure what to wear but figured, hell, this was still a wedding so I might as well dress nice.
She takes one look at me, her eyes crinkling with amusement as Molly throws her hands in the air.
“I told you to wear the dress,” she scolds.
Regan snorts. “I thought we were doing casual, cowboy?”
I glance down at myself, second-guessing my choice. “I…”
Molly slides up between us, hissing, “I told her to wear a dress, but she said that’d freak you out too much and you’d probably run away, so she put on the shorts.”
Despite the absurdity of it all, I laugh.
I don’t give a damn what Regan’s wearing; she’ll always be the most beautiful woman in the room to me.
Dark auburn hair in waves around her shoulders, lips a pretty pink shade from some sort of lipstick and it doesn’t look like she’s wearing any other make-up which is even more of a turn on because she’s a completely natural beauty.
But I do like that she was thinking about me. And I hate even more how much that realization makes me feel like a complete fool. Like she’s afraid I might bolt at any second. Might sprint out of here simply because she showed up in a dress.
I do the only thing I can think of to show her I’m grateful. I sling an arm around her shoulders and tug her in close to my side. “Come on, let’s go get married.”
We step through the doors of the courthouse just as our names are being called. Colt and Molly follow close behind as our witnesses and I swear I hear her brother whisper there’s still time to back out to Regan who just smiles.
The judge runs through the formalities, makes sure we understand what we’re doing, that we aren’t under duress—(Surprise, I feel like I am)—and then, just like that, he pronounces us husband and wife.
We stare at each other for a beat, me, half-wondering if I should kiss those pretty pink lips again for old times’ sake, and her, grinning like she just pulled off the best prank of her life.
Then she bursts out laughing.
“Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face through all that! You looked like you were about to pass out.”
She grabs my hand, tugging me to the side of the room where we sign the paperwork, completely unaware that my reaction has nothing to do with nerves or cold feet and everything to do with the woman I just married, the same woman who keeps telling me not to fall in love with her yet has me stealing second glances, and taking sniffs of her sweet smelling hair while wondering what I’m going to do when she brings a new boyfriend to our home that she wants to bang.
Ten minutes later, vows exchanged, signatures dried, paperwork in hand, we step out of the courthouse and back into the warm, spring air. Regan pumps her fist in the air like she just won the damn Super Bowl.
“Woohoo! We did it!”
I shake my head, laughing lightly because oddly enough, I feel… fine. No ring on my finger, none on hers, but somehow, I feel okay. Nowhere as bad as I thought I’d feel after getting married.
“Not as scary as you thought?” Molly teases, patting my arm before slipping her hand into Colt’s.
Truthfully? No, it’s not. Maybe I just needed it to be fast and low-pressure. A band-aid rip instead of a slow, agonizing peel with a day’s worth of events.
“Yeah, not bad.”
“Lean in for a quick photo,” Molly says.
Regan presses against my chest, and I wrap an arm around her waist while Molly lifts her phone and snaps a few shots of us.
We must look ridiculous out here, her in cutoff shorts, me in khakis, both of us grinning like fools.
As soon as Molly lowers the phone, Regan spins toward me, practically buzzing with excitement.
“Let’s drop this paperwork off at Betsy’s so we can get the keys to the home.”
I shake my head. “I gotta head into the hospital for my shift. You go ahead and get settled.”
She tilts her head to the side, not seeming disappointed. “Will I see you at the house later tonight? I can help you move in your stuff.”
I probably should. No sense in wasting more money at the motel now that I technically own a home. But one more night of separation from Regan might be the smarter choice. Just one more.
“Yeah,” I say, hesitating. “I’m not sure. We’ll see.”
If she’s disappointed by my lukewarm response, she doesn’t show it. Just gives me another tight squeeze then flashes me a smile before skipping off to her car.
Molly leans in with a smirk, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Tonight’s your wedding night… you two have fun.” Then she winks.
And fuck. I hadn’t even thought about that.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21 (Reading here)
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56