Page 36

“Hi! Welcome! Thank you all so much for coming!” Regan’s soft, sweet voice rings out, warm and inviting, carrying effortlessly across the wide-open space of our property line.?

She’s been up since dawn, way too damn early for a woman whose wedding is in just a few hours, but that’s Regan.

She wanted the ceremony in the evening so the lighting would be, quote , perfect on the Marshall land where she’s lived her whole life.

And so, since sunrise, she’s been in constant motion, moving through the Mayberry Manor with a kind of restless energy that’s as endearing as it is exhausting to watch, preparing for the brides and grooms who’ll show up today, eager to see where their bridal party will get ready, and photos be taken.

She’s checked the pond twice, straightened up the rustic cottages, and meticulously set up small stations all over the land, each one strategically placed to mark prime, potential photography spots as well as offer details for the guests who are canvasing our property so that they can learn about the history behind the Mayberry’s.

And she’s not just hosting prospective brides and grooms today, local vendors are here too, including photographers who might end up shooting weddings.

Apparently, that’s smart business. If they like the property, they’ll pitch it to future couples that they know are engaged and looking for a place to marry, helping solidify the Marshall reputation.

Regan’s thought of everything. Every damn detail. And I can’t lie, I’m wildly impressed. Way more than impressed. She’s smart, funny, sharp-witted, a true entrepreneur and so damn... agreeable.

I don’t deserve to be the man who’s marrying her tonight, or the one who fell asleep next to her last night after burying my cock inside of her three times, but here I am anyway.

Trying not to ask too many questions about how I got here and where we’re going when this is all finished.

Because after I told her a little more about my childhood and Samuel, I felt a strong sense of relief.

And when I woke up this morning briefly, with her still wrapped up in my arms, it felt right.

“So, please feel free to explore the property,” she continues, beaming at the small crowd.

“A few of my siblings are hanging around, so if you see someone wearing a big ’ M ’ sticker across their chest, they’re either a Marshall or someone we trust to guide you.

They’ll be happy to answer any questions about your future big day. ”

With a clap of her hands, she dismisses the group, sending them off across the land to explore.

I exhale slowly, watching as people scatter out like ants. Would I rather have this day to myself? Have my land to myself? Have Regan to myself so I can tell her what I meant when I told her she was it for me last night?

Absolutely.

But even once this place is fully operational, Regan’s already agreed that we’ll be a weekends-only wedding family, and she’ll block off months where we get to take a break from visitors.

Plus, she’ll have a wedding planner hired and a whole staff that will manage things without any of our intervention eventually.

The main house will stay off-limits. The barn?

She’ll coordinate use with me for photos.

I won’t say no to the extra revenue, and to be fair, the other houses on the property have been sitting empty, waiting for something like this.

But more than that, watching her work, watching her be in her element, it’s something else entirely and I’m enjoying admiring her.

She’s wearing a pair of slightly oversized denim overalls, the kind that hug her hips just right but still look like she stole them from one of her brothers they’re so long.

Her dark auburn hair is thrown into a messy bun, wisps of it falling loose around her face like she didn’t even bother fixing it after rolling out of my warm bed this morning.

She’s got a clipboard tucked under one arm, her lips pursed in concentration as she surveys the setup, nodding to herself like she’s mentally checking off a list only she can see. She looks happy and beautiful.

She looks like mine.

Arms folded over my chest, I watch her from a distance, cataloging every tiny detail.

The way her eyes light up as she talks, the way her hands move when she explains something, the way her whole body seems to buzz with purpose.

And that’s when it really hits me that fuck.

I’ve fallen for her. So hard. In a way that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else who knows me.

“Hi,” a soft, feminine voice comes from beside me. “I’m Rachel, one of the photographers scoping out the property for her bride. It’s beautiful.”

I barely glance her way, my gaze still fixed on watching Regan. “Yeah. It is.”

Rachel shifts beside me, waiting for more and my attention. When I don’t give it, she clears her throat. “Okay, so, um, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the home? You’ve got the ’ M ’ on your chest, so I figured you were one of the Marshall brothers.” She laughs nervously.

I straighten slightly, finally turning to face her. At one point in my life, I might’ve been into a woman like her, polished, poised, perfectly put together in a title little suit dress that shows off her ample breasts. But now? All I see is business and no depth.

I’m sure that isn’t fair, I’m sure there’s something more to her than a pretty face with eyes that are looking at me like she’d like to undress me, but now that I’ve had Regan. She’s all I want. Regan and the many different flavors of who she is wrapped around me like a hug.

Her eyes flick to my hand—blatantly checking for a ring—before darting back up to mine with a small, practiced smile after she finds it empty.

“I’m not a Marshall,” I explain.

“Oh, okay. Well, I own my own photography business. I have a few couples looking for a wedding venue, and this property is exquisite . ”

I nod. “It is. That’s why I bought it, but that wouldn’t have anything to do with me.”

Her brows knit together. “I thought the Marshalls owned it?”

I shake my head. “Joint ownership. Between me and my wife. She’s the reason the land looks so good today.”

Her lips part slightly before she nods, her smile dimming just a fraction. “Oh... oh. You’re Regan’s husband. The groom for tonight’s wedding.”

“That I am.”

I can see her wrestling with the unspoken question— So, is this really a fake marriage? And if so, why are you bringing up her your fake wife?

Yeah. It was fake.

That doesn’t mean I’m gonna disrespect her or this day. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I’m not starting to think a real marriage with her might actually be something I want.

“Hey, my friend Lydia’s over there,” I say, nodding toward Regan’s friend I met yesterday with bright blonde hair and a flowy, floral skirt who’s reviewing a clipboard. A big ‘M’ sticker is pasted across her chest as she chatters eagerly to an older couple. “She’ll answer any questions you have.”

Rachel takes the hint, offering a small wave before heading off. I lean back against the fence, my gaze moving right back to Regan like it never left.

She’s still oblivious to my stare, but then, as if she feels me watching her, her eyes finally drag over to me. A small smile tugs at her lips, and just like that, she’s walking my way, another woman trailing behind her.

“Hi Hayes, this is the photographer we hired for the event tonight,” she says, stopping in front of me.

“I promise it’s not going to be a whole thing —just a few shots of you getting ready in the cottage, and me too, so we can display them on the website to draw attention.

It’ll help showcase the property. We can do a couple of photos in the barn and by the pond so out-of-town couples can see the layout.

But if you’re not into it, or feel like it’s too much, that’s okay and we totally don’t have to—”

I step forward and grip her hips, cutting off her sentence and pulling her close until she’s pressed softly against my chest, chin tilted up to look at me.

I want to kiss her. Right here. In front of everyone.

But I don’t. Her family’s here. People are watching and we still need to talk about what happened last night.

Really talk about what all this means because I’m starting to think I want more.

And yeah, what’s more than marriage? I guess to start with, to date her, properly.

But I need to tell her what I’m wrestling with in my head so that she knows I might be bad at this first, but dammit I’ll try for her.

“Nah, I’d love that,” I respond to her.

Regan’s face lights up, her smile instant and effortless, like she hadn’t been sure what my answer would be but really wanted to hear this one.

“So, the tour will go for another two hours, then meet in the groom’s suite,” she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“My brothers will be in there too for the photos—they’ve got suits and everything so you all will match.

Then I’ll be in the bridal suite. We’ll see each other down by the pond after. ”

I pull her tighter against me, wrapping my arms around her waist and press a slow, lingering kiss to the top of her head. She smells so good this morning. “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

She hesitates as she pulls back, her eyes scanning my face, searching for something.

Maybe she thinks I’m going to back out. Worry flickers in her gaze, her bottom lip catching between her teeth like she wants to ask, and all I can think about is taking it for myself, biting down, soothing it like I did last night.

She’s nervous. She thinks I might run. I’d never do that to her.

I shake my head, voice low. “You ain’t gotta worry about me. I’m in this for you. We’re doing this tonight.”

Her expression softens, and for a second, I can see her believing me.

“I know,” she murmurs, but there’s still something in her eyes that’s careful. “You just… you look happy this morning. Lighter, somehow. I thought today would be worse for you.”

I huff out a quiet laugh, shaking my head before kissing her again, just her forehead, because anything more? I know I wouldn’t be able to stop and then people would be asking questions both of us need to discuss with each other first.

“You make it easy, Regan.”

She nods as if she’s digesting those words, trying to figure out what I mean by that and I let her go.

“See you soon, darling.”