The Wedding Steal

by Layla Valentine

  When I heard her key in the lock, I held my breath.

  “Hello,” she yelled from the front door. I could hear her taking off her heels and leaving them in the same spot she always did, right behind the door. “Colton?”

  I didn’t say a word as I listened to her soft footsteps walk through the entrance hall and into the dining room. As soon as she hit the threshold, she gasped.

  The flower shop had been out of pre-packaged rose petals, so I’d spent the better part of an hour plucking individual petals from roses to lay them out in a trail through the house.

  “Colton, where are you?” she asked. “What is this?”

  I crept out from my hiding spot in the hallway and moved to the door so I could see her following the rose-petal path through the dining room and into the kitchen. Once there, she gasped again.

  The kitchen island was arranged with three vases of twenty-four roses, more rose petals, her favorite cheesecake from the bakery down the street, and a large gold box with a royal-blue ribbon.

  “If you don’t come out right now, I’m going to open this without you,” she yelled, already moving towards the box. Rachel loved presents, so I knew she wasn’t bluffing.

  As she took the final steps towards the island, I tiptoed up behind her, and just as she reached for the package, I wrapped one hand around her body, pinning her arms to her side, and covered her mouth with my hand.

  She jolted and instinctively reached up to rip my hand away, but then I pressed my body against hers, and she stilled. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her neck, planting kisses across the soft skin, moving up to her earlobe and sucking it into my mouth. She tasted like cinnamon.

  “Colton, what are you doing?” she asked, wrapping a hand up and around my neck, running her fingers through my hair in the way she knew I liked.

  Without answering, I spun her around, pressed her back against the island, and spread her legs apart with my knee. Her cheeks were flushed with passion and her hands clawed at my neck in anticipation, trying to draw me closer to her.

  I tickled my fingers behind her knee and slowly drew a line up the back of her thigh, pushing up her black pencil skirt until I could feel the line of her lacy panties. She was breathing heavily now, her eyes fluttering closed with each breath. I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips to hers, and it was like someone had opened the floodgates.

  Suddenly, I was holding Rachel in my arms, and her legs were wrapped around my waist. We bounced around the kitchen like we were in a pinball machine, shedding articles of clothing all over the room with no concern for where they landed. We made full use of every surface available to us in the kitchen, christening the new space in a sweaty and unconventional way.

  When we finished, Rachel was naked and curled against my side on the couch and I felt content just to hold her in silence. We’d said everything we needed to say.

  “Do you remember what we were doing on this day a year ago?” she asked.

  I nodded. “We were sneaking out of your cousin’s wedding rehearsal so we could do something very similar to what we just did all over the hotel room.”

  “And you told me you loved me.”

  I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “And you told me you loved me, too.”

  “Of course I did,” she said, smiling to herself. “You know, I almost like this date more than I do our real anniversary. It feels more special to me.”

  “Is that so?” I asked, barely biting back my own smile.

  She nodded. “Yes. I’d like to petition for this to be the day we celebrate our anniversary henceforth and forever more.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  After a few minutes, Rachel jolted up with a start.

  “What?” I asked, looking around, assuming she must have seen a spider or something.

  She pointed to the island behind us. “Is that gift real, or was it a ruse so you could seduce me?”

  “Can’t it be both?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Rachel’s eyes widened like a kid’s on Christmas morning, and she jumped up and ran to the island, still naked. She grabbed the large box and lifted it up to move it to the floor to unwrap it, but as she did, she realized it didn’t have a bottom. Instead, it was just the cardboard lid to the real gift. Sitting in the perfect center of the island, surrounded by rose petals, was a small black velvet box.

  She turned to me, her eyes already glassy with emotion. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “I don’t know,” I said teasingly. “Why don’t you take a look and see?”

  As she turned to grab the small box, I knelt down behind her, my bare knee going down on the tile floor.

  Rachel opened it and gasped, seeing the large diamond ring I’d had designed for her six months before. When she turned around and saw me kneeling before her, tears began streaming down her face.

  “I didn’t imagine doing this naked,” I said, and she laughed. “But nothing about our relationship has happened as I expected it to. At every turn, there has been an adventure. You make the most boring things enjoyable, and you make the most enjoyable times unforgettable. It doesn’t matter whether I’m sitting at home watching TV, traveling the world on a book tour, or watching you crush your comedy in front of a crowd that loves you. Every second I get to be with you, I’m happy. So, Rachel Kendrick, please make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.”

  Rachel covered her mouth, tears still streaming down her face. When she looked down at me, she was beaming. “You really have gotten the begging thing down.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “It’s so like you to make jokes during my proposal.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” she said, laughing. “Yes. Of course, I will marry you.”

  The ring fit perfectly on her finger, and it looked even better when it was the only thing she was wearing. She bent down and grabbed my neck, pulling me into a kiss so deep I didn’t know if we’d ever find our way out. And we didn’t—not for a few hours, anyway.

  The End

  We hope you’ve enjoyed Rachel and Colton’s story! Sign up to Layla’s mailing list and be the first to know about all her new releases.

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  In Deep

  Layla Valentine & Holly Rayner

  Time for a tease!

  Up next is the first chapter of In Deep, the previous book in our series, Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL

  Happy reading!

  Layla and Holly x

  Copyright 2019 by Layla Valentine and Holly Rayner

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Tammy

  The sun is shining and the sky is clear over Pyrite Ranch. I take a moment to savor the clear day and how fortunate we are to have it, on this of all days. I’m wearing my best dress, new and clean, so I’m careful not to lean against the side of the ranch house. Vanity feels like something from another life, but it’s a rare treat to make an effort with my appearance, and I don’t want to spoil it.

  “Tammy!”

  I look toward the sound of the voice. Olivia is running across the yard toward me, her hair ribbons trailing behind her, her face shining with excitement.

  She skids to a halt before me. “Can you believe the wedding is finally here?”

  “Turn around,” I say mildly, and begin fixing her hair ribbons.

  Olivia is nothing like I was at sixteen. She’s been here at the ranch since she was a baby, and it shows; sh
e reminds me more of myself at about ten. It’s sweet that the ranch allows children to remain innocent for so long, and that this teenage girl can get so excited about going to a wedding with her family. And, after all, why shouldn’t she? It’s going to be the social event of the year.

  I finish fixing Olivia’s ribbons and she turns and hugs me.

  “I can’t believe James and Rachel are getting married,” she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I thought this day would never come!”

  “It seems like we’ve been preparing all year,” I agree, smoothing my hands over the front of my dress. Like all my clothes, I made it myself, but I put a lot of extra effort into this one.

  Most of my dresses are simply functional, but I took the time to embroider a pattern of vines across the front of this one. It fits well, and I know I look good, even though it’s just a simple tan sheath. For a moment, I remember what it was like to dress up for a night out before I lived at the ranch, to spend hours preparing myself and to feel utterly gorgeous when I was done.

  “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?” I ask. Olivia’s parents are both cooks, so that’s where she usually helps out when she isn’t working with me in the sewing room.

  She laughs. “They sent me out,” she says. “I’m so excited, I think they were afraid I was going to knock over the cake or something.”

  “Why don’t we go over to the Commons?” I suggest. “We can get seats and save some for your parents.”

  The Commons began life as just another barn, but it’s the facility we’ve put the most work into because it’s where all our social events take place. At the far end of the space is the kitchen, and the rest of it is usually filled with picnic tables arranged end-to-end for cafeteria-style dining. Today, though, the tables have been moved out onto the grass surrounding the building to make room for benches, all of which have been positioned to face a wooden trellis arch at the end of the room, opposite the kitchen.

  Olivia and I claim seats in the third row. The festivities are due to begin in about twenty minutes, and members of the ranch are already filing in.

  James enters through the side door and takes his place at the front of the room. He looks nervous, and I see him make eye contact with a few people in the assembly and look away quickly. It must be hard, standing up there in front of everyone and waiting, and I’m sure I’d be nervous too. But James has nothing to worry about. He and Rachel are the most perfect couple I’ve ever met, and I know they’re going to be ridiculously happy together.

  A swell of music cues the main door to open, and there’s Rachel in a bone-white dress and a veil made of the same simple cloth. She makes her way slowly down the aisle, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in one hand. I’ve never seen my best friend look as happy as she does when James steps up to greet her.

  The entire room goes quiet as they exchange their vows. It’s not that marriage is uncommon here on the ranch, especially for people in their mid-twenties like Rachel and James. But there aren’t that many of us. Rachel and James are the only couple to marry this year. God knows I’m not anywhere close to it. I haven’t met anyone I’d even consider settling down with since moving here three years ago.

  When the ceremony is over and Rachel and James have been officially pronounced husband and wife, we all rise and push the benches up against the walls, clearing room for dancing. Food is served, and some people take plates outside to sit on the picnic tables and eat, while others grab partners and take to the floor. Olivia’s mother, Bev, is serving the cake she’s been working on for a week, and I accept a piece and take a seat on one of the benches to watch my best friend and her new husband share their first dance.

  The dance floor is a hectic maze. It seems as if all the children on the ranch are out there, all of them over-sugared and up past their bedtimes. They’re chasing each other, holding their arms out like wings and spinning in circles, or dancing on the feet of good-natured adults.

  The older kids—those around Olivia’s age—stand clumped together, segregated by gender, one of them occasionally breaking off from the herd and making his or her awkward way over to the opposite group to ask a partner to dance. They hold each other at arm’s length and look anywhere but into each other’s eyes as they sway. Meanwhile, the married adults are in each other’s arms, while those still single—like me—sit out the slower numbers.

  It’s not that I wouldn’t like to dance. Especially now, as I watch James and Rachel rotate slowly around the dance floor, her head resting on his shoulder, their arms around each other. It’s been years since I was that close to someone, since somebody held me like that. It hasn’t happened since before I came to the ranch. I had boyfriends back then, and yes, even lovers, but that isn’t part of ranch life. Here, unmarried people keep their hands strictly to themselves.

  It’s a philosophy I happen to agree with. We all know how exhausting sex can be—not just the practice of it, but all the guesswork and politics, all the flirting and foreplay that lead up to the main event. Before I came to the ranch, sex was something I thought about almost every day. Now, I’ve been freed from that. I can talk to fellow members of the community—including young men my own age—without wondering whether they’re making an advance, without worrying about what my response would be if they were. Conversations are simpler, and therefore, so are relationships.

  But it’s not without its drawbacks. Sex is fun—there’s just no point in arguing otherwise—and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. Seeing my best friend newly married, dancing close to her husband, and knowing what the night has in store for them, I can’t help but feel jealous.

  The song ends. Rachel and James applaud the band and then head over to one of the benches for a breather. I notice how people’s eyes follow them everywhere they go. I’m not the only one who’s fascinated by the step these two people have taken and the intimate journey they’ll begin together tonight.

  I never imagined an entire community investing itself in a couple’s sex life like this could be so touching, but it is. Rachel and James are surrounded by family and friends, and they’re celebrating not just their love but their changing role in our community—their transition from single young people to married adults. Not only can they have sex now, they can have children if they want to. If Rachel is anything like other young women who get married on the ranch, she’ll be pregnant within a year.

  Meanwhile, I get older, but stay young in the eyes of my community. Instead of attending social events with a date, I’m here with the family of the girl I tutored in school. Even now, I can see Olivia crossing the floor with a plate of cake in hand. She is the only person who’s approached me all night. There are men my age here, of course, but we’ve known each other for years—well enough to know that there’s just no spark between us. We’re friendly to each other, but friends is all we’ll ever be.

  Rachel’s hands are moving all over James’ back now, and I completely understand how she’s feeling. Here in our chaste little community, although their courtship has been wonderfully romantic, it’s been utterly nonphysical. She and James have shared a few sweet kisses and hugs on dates, and they’ve held hands, but nothing more intense than that. Now, they’re allowed to hold each other, feel the warm press of each other’s bodies, and I can tell Rachel is struggling to keep things decent.

  It won’t be long, I’m sure, before they make their excuses and leave the rest of us to enjoy the cake and music while they take advantage of other pursuits.

  We’ve already moved their possessions into their new quarters. It was a fun job, a pre-wedding duty shared by Rachel and James’ closest friends. We hung their clothes in their closet, placed their books on their shelves, and made up their bed. They haven’t seen the place yet, so everything we did will be part of the adventure for them.

  But as I sit here, watching them hold each other and feeling things I haven’t felt in years, I can’t help wishing I was the one moving out of the single women’s lodge and into my o
wn marriage cabin. I can’t help wishing I had a strong, warm, male body against mine. I’m hungry for it, suddenly, in a way I haven’t been since I settled at the ranch. Usually, the work and the simplicity of life here is enough to satisfy me, but I can’t deny it tonight—I miss sex.

  Too bad I’m about as far away from getting married as a person can be.

  I mean, who would I even marry? My gaze travels around the room, searching out the candidates, but I don’t need to see them to know who they are—there just aren’t that many people here. There’s Aaron, an instant veto because of the way he always complains about everything. There’s Greg, who’s nice but has been seeing Fiona for over a year now. Brian is an okay guy, but I’m honestly just plain old not attracted to him. Paul is boring. And everyone else is just too old, too young, or already married to someone else.

  People here aren’t shy about sharing their opinions, so I know the consensus is that I should get over myself and settle down. I don’t want to end up old and alone, do I? But the truth is, it never seemed so bad until now. I never felt lonely here on the ranch. I didn’t feel the need for companionship that seems to drive other people to get married, because there were always so many people around me.

  Tonight, though, I know I’m going to go to bed lonely. Lonely in a way I had almost forgotten about. Tonight, I’m wishing I had a partner.

  So, when Paul asks me for a dance, I take his hand and let him spin me around the dance floor, and I try my hardest to take an interest in the history of the split-rail fence, but by the time the song has ended, I feel like if I have to listen to him for five more seconds I’m going to pass out. It’s exhausting how boring he is. I could never spend my life with Paul, and it would be cruel to him to pretend otherwise. He should be with someone who finds his stories interesting.