Page 32

Lydia squeezes my shoulders affectionately, her grin so wide it practically lights up the room. “This is going so well. You did amazing, Regan,” she gushes.?

I smile, nodding as I take in the scene around us.

The brewery is buzzing with laughter and easy conversation, the kind of hum that fills a room when people are genuinely enjoying themselves.

The soft glow from the string lights we hung up in the bar overhead casts a warm, golden hue over the gathering and the sage and blue colored accents bring in the colors for our wedding.

It’s exactly what I envisioned: an open dinner before the real event, a chance to celebrate the newest, Marshall business venture, let loose, have some fun, and feed the community all for free.

All the drinks and food are on the Marshall family house tab.

We’d invited our core group of family and friends, but beyond that, it’s open to anyone curious about the property, our businesses, or considering hiring us for their own wedding.

And to my delight, people have shown up today in the hundreds.

So many that they’re spilling outside into the outdoor seating area, too.

“The real question is where did all these brides come from? Did everyone decide to get engaged when they heard the Marshall’s were starting a wedding business?” my sister-in-law Rae jokes, sliding up next to us with a glass of bourbon in her hand.

“I have no idea but it’s looking good for business.”

My gaze drifts across the room and catches on Hayes the way it has been all night.

He’s seated next to my dad at one of the corner tables, one long leg casually draped over the other, cowboy boots planted firm, his hat tilted just right.

He looks like he stepped straight out of a romance novel, the kind you devour in one sitting with a pint of ice cream and a heart full of hope that you’ll find a man like that someday who’s be just as wild for you as the west. He’s at ease, listening to my dad chatter away, a glass of our family’s whiskey nestled in the crook of his arm, his smile lazy and effortless.

I admire the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, showing his age and the years that he’s spent living hard.

The way that his broad frame suffocates the chair, leaving nothing visible and the way he leans in when my dad whispers something to him that I know must be about me because his eyes slowly turn to find me, mid-conversation, and his gaze snags on mine.

A wink. Quick, sharp, and it sends a flush crawling up my neck like a live wire because I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about my fake husband right now.

“Wow, the chemistry between you two is hot,” Rae teases, fanning herself with her hands dramatically.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, but I’m smiling back at Hayes like a fool, trying to play it cool, even though last night’s memories keep creeping into the edges of my mind.

I’ve been pretending it was casual because that’s the safest play.

I know Hayes isn’t the “let’s be in a relationship” type, hell, he isn’t the “ let’s get married type either,” but my body hasn’t gotten the memo that last night should be just a one-time thing.

Especially when he brings me to orgasm faster than any other man ever has and looks like. .. that .

But I remind my head what my heart doesn’t know and that’s that I really don’t even know Hayes. I’m living with a man that I don’t know anything about except what I was told seven years ago.

“Hi, excuse me,” a voice chirps, pulling me back to reality.

I turn to find a bright, blonde woman with striking green eyes beaming at me as she rocks back and forth on her heels.

“Hi,” I respond, my smile automatic and easy.

“This has been so much fun. Such a great way to test out the food and drinks ahead of time.”

“Thank you. Are you engaged?” I ask, noticing the soft, white sundress she’s wearing.

She nods enthusiastically and extends her hand, showing off a dazzling diamond ring that catches the light like it’s part of the decor.

“My fiancé is over there,” she says, gesturing toward an older man deep in conversation with my brother Cash, likely hashing out food and catering details for their big day.

How amazing would it be if this was our opportunity to book our first wedding? I decide to turn the charm up a notch to convince her to choose us for her important day.

“It’s beautiful,” I say genuinely because it is. Might not be my style, but I can appreciate a pretty, and expensive, ring when I see one.

Has it bothered me that Hayes and I tied the knot without a ring?

Not really. Everyone knows it was part of the wild stipulations Mrs. Mayberry included in the property agreement.

But moments like this? Yeah, they sting a little.

Because deep down, I ache for the kind of ring that symbolizes forever with someone who actually wants forever with me.

It wouldn’t have to be big, nothing flashy, but something that tells the outside world that I’m his and he’s mine.

“Thank you,” she replies, her smile warm and genuine. “I’m really excited to see the venue tomorrow. How fun is it that you and Hayes are putting on a fake wedding just to show us brides how it could be? Well, without the fake vows, of course.” She laughs a little too easily.

I nod, swallowing the lump that wants to form in my throat at the reminder. Yes, this is just all pretend, remember that, Regan , my brain tells my heart. “It was Hayes’s sister’s idea.”

She smiles and nods. “I’m not surprised. Doesn’t seem like something Hayes would want to do.”

And isn’t that the truth, but that comment gives me some pause because how does she know what Hayes would want to do? Something about the way she says it is familiar. It’s as if... she knows him?

“Oh... have you two met before?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, like my heart isn’t about to sprint out of my chest.

She nods, leaning in slightly as if sharing a juicy secret. “Back when he was on the circuit, we had a wild night together. Best fuck of my life. No one has ever come close to comparing since him.”

I blink. Did she really just say that to me?

My mouth opens, a soundless gasp hovering in the air because how do you even respond to that?

This woman, proudly flashing an engagement ring that could double as a disco ball, has just declared my fake husband the pinnacle of her sexual escapades.

Meanwhile, her actual fiancé is over there, probably gushing about their love story and color-coordinated napkins.

“I... I see,” I manage, my voice tight. I can feel Lydia bristle next to me as she casually slides out of the conversation like the whole thing is making her uncomfortable.

Sure, Hayes and I never pretended we were each other’s firsts.

He’d told me all about his days on the circuit that first night we hooked up, and it’s not like I lived like a nun either.

But hearing it from her? While we’re at our fake rehearsal dinner, surrounded by friends and family?

It hits different because right now I don’t need another reminder about how I’m just like her.

A woman he’s slept with in passing, who will one day look back on our time together and say best fuck of my life.

Before I can process that, Hayes materializes at my side, his arm sliding around my waist much too comfortably. He gives the woman that I was chatting with a nod, cool and indifferent, like she’s just another face in the crowd before turning that megawatt smile on me.

“Missed ya, baby,” he murmurs in my ear.

“Hi, Hayes,” the woman purrs, tilting her head just enough to let her hair fall perfectly over her pretty face as she tries to draw his attention.

He offers nothing more than another nod. No recognition, no flicker of memory. Her pout is brief, but she recovers quickly, standing straighter as if that didn’t faze her at all when I know better.

He’s the best fuck of her life.

No one else has been able to compare.

She brought that up while planning her own wedding to another man.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow at the wedding,” the woman says. “Nice chatting with you, Regan. Good to see you again , Hayes,” she adds with a sly smile, her voice dripping with that last little drop of ‘remember me?’ Then she sashays away, leaving a trail of smugness in her wake.

I glance up at Hayes, my brows raised. His eyes narrow slightly, and I can practically see the mental Rolodex flipping. Then it clicks, even if he doesn’t fully remember her, he realizes who she must be: A woman that he’s slept with in the past.

“Don’t,” he says sternly, his grip tightening on my hip.

I can’t help it. I smile sweetly, stepping out of his hold. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Regan, I said don’t.”

“What? It’s not like you haven’t told me about your escapades. Hundreds of women, right? No big deal. I was nearly engaged once. I’ve slept with other people too. This is all fake anyway. She was sweet. Really. Might be our first wedding we book at the new venue.”

My voice is light, airy even, but inside?

A tornado. I draw in a breath, reeling my emotions in because what in the world is going on with me?

I knew Hayes was only marrying me for the property, and that’s the only reason I married him.

What we did last night meant nothing. Absolutely nothing and I have no right to be even the slightest bit of jealous.

I hate that I feel this way. I hate that a small part of me wishes this wasn’t fake. I’m embarrassed by my overreaction to her comments. I stand up taller and smile because I’m fine. I’ve reined it in. This is fine.

“Regan,” he warns again, that growly edge creeping in.

I laugh, shaking my head like the absurdity of it all is just too much.

“What a mess. This isn’t a real marriage, Hayes. I really don’t care. You know what, we should probably start planning our divorce once this wedding is over tomorrow. We can discuss plans for dividing the land and the business so that you can keep the barn, and I can keep the cottages.”

He shakes his head. “Regan, I have no idea who that woman is. You knew I was a wild, single guy when I was on the circuit.”

“Totally, and I was just another one of those experiences for you. I had my wild times too,” I shoot back, my smile plastered on even though something tightens in my chest.

He growls, actually growls, and before I can blink, he grabs my hips pulling me tightly against his chest. I try to wiggle free and start to wave at Declan across the room, but Hayes’ grip tightens, tugging me away from moving toward him.

I yelp. “Hayes! What are you doing?”

His eyes flash with something primal, something possessive.

“Taking my wife home so that she stops spiraling.”