by Lexie Ray
“We start with a wedding, of course,” Paisley said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I understand we have less than a month before that loan needs to be repaid.”
“That’s right,” Chance confirmed.
“Well, good thing I don’t like to wait very much,” she said. Her gaze drifted over to me. “I’m kind of an instant gratification type of girl.”
Wrong. Paisley was very, very patient. When she saw something that she wanted, she would wait until the right moment for years, always plotting, planning, preparing. She might be a princess, but she was an exceedingly clever one.
“I guess we have a wedding to plan,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
“That’s the spirit.” Paisley couldn’t seem to stop grinning at me.
Chapter 4
There had been few things I've ever wanted to do less than leave my trailer this morning. I just couldn't think of any of them. Instead, I thought of things I'd rather be doing. Literally anything. I would rather be getting a root canal. Bending and coughing. Cattle logs.
Because outside of this trailer lay my future. The future I'd never wanted for myself. The future everyone else wanted.
When was I going to be able to do the things I actually wanted with my life? It didn't matter that I didn't know what those things were anymore. I felt, at 28, like it was too late to go back to school. What was there in the world for a grown man who had set aside his ambitions and gone along with what everyone else had wanted for him instead? Was there anything else, or was I conscripted to Paisley Summers and the massive new ranch for all time?
A knock on the door to my trailer made me jump. For fuck's sake. Was it time already?
Emmet poked his head in, his long hair slicked back and secured at his neck with a rubber band.
"You're not even in your tux yet?" he demanded, staring.
"Technically, neither are you," I pointed out, jerking my chin at his undone bow tie.
"You can't keep the people at your own wedding waiting," Emmett said.
"What, did they send you in to make sure I didn't fuck this up?" I asked, sarcastic. "If you all are so committed to saving this fucking ranch, then one of you fuckers can tie yourself down to Paisley Summers."
Emmett's eyes widened at my outburst. "If any of us had known how much you didn't like Paisley, we would've never ... hell, Avery, you're the one who suggested it in the first place."
"I know I fucking suggested it," I said, throwing my hands up in the air. "Is it too late to un-fucking-suggest it?"
"Avery ..."
"Don't 'Avery' me." I was feeling a righteous fucking fury, the last of my resistance burning off, probably, but damn, I was going down in a blaze of glory. "The rest of you are no better than goddamn pimps, you know that? You're pimping me out to save this place."
"You're getting ridiculous, man."
My shoulders sagged. "I thought I'd give it a try at least."
"Everyone gets cold feet before they get married," Emmett reasoned.
"How would you know, asshole?"
"Are you done?" Emmett might've been the middle child, but he learned that glower directly from Chance. It was pretty powerful.
"Do I really have to do this?"
Emmett shrugged. "You don't have to do anything you really don't want to do. I just thought -- we all thought -- that you and Paisley are kind of good together. She's always been bonkers over you. Can't you just open your heart to her?"
"Can I just take a pill to make me love her?" I asked. "Unless you have really specific directions on opening your heart. Because I'm not sure how to do that without a knife."
"Just relax," Emmett cajoled. "What I'm trying to tell you is that your jitters are completely normal."
Normal? Jitters? Was that what my brother thought this was? I genuinely didn't want to marry Paisley or live and work on our families' combined ranches for the rest of my life. This was a lifetime commitment. That's what I was facing -- or trying not to.
"Here." Emmett groped around his jacket pocket for a moment until he produced a flask. "Liquid courage. You'll feel better if you drink a little of this."
Could anyone blame me for taking that flask and drinking its contents, hoping that it was some magic potion that would save me from my fate?
"Shit," Emmett remarked. "Well, at least you have that in you. Let’s go.”
I was unsteady in more ways than one as I made my way to the front of the grouping of chairs. For something so thrown together, I had to at least respect Paisley, Hadley, and Zoe for being able to make something out of nothing. It looked like they'd commandeered metal folding chairs from perhaps either the church or bingo hall -- or both -- and covered them in simple white sheets, securing the fabric with a green-colored bow. I didn't want to look at the people who had come to witness this ranching spectacle, but I was helpless at the front of the crowd. Nearly everyone in town had turned up, people I hadn't seen in years, people I regularly saw at the bar but never spoke with, everyone. One notable exception was Bud Billings, which at least was something. It would've been a hell of a thing to see his smirk sitting in one of those chairs -- thwarted, for now, but cooking up some other plan to get the ranch. That would've meant that none of this was worth it, that I was throwing my life away by marrying Paisley, that everything was a waste.
How quickly could a person get divorced if this whole save the ranch thing didn't work out?
All of my brothers sat in the first row, all dressed as nicely as they could manage. It wouldn't have been right to choose one of them for best man; they were equally important to me. But it was hard not to at least resent them for this. They needed me to do this so they could keep on working the ranch, keep our family's dream alive -- even if it was a dream I didn't share.
Chance, at least, had the decency to look a little sad. If it were up to him, he would've taken the Paisley bullet for the family, but it wasn't Chance she wanted to marry. I was the one who had always been in those crosshairs. That meant that I was the only one who could swing this solution to our financial problems.
Emmett looked guilty, too, but only because it was his liquor that perfumed my breath. He watched me like he was afraid I would explode -- or, better yet, make a run for it. I wouldn't have made it far. Tucker was perched on the edge of his seat, giving me double thumbs up and grinning. He probably thought he was being encouraging, but to me, those thumbs meant something along the lines of, "you just try and escape, brother." He'd have me tackled and carried back to the altar before I even got fifty yards away.
Hunter and Hadley were sitting so close together it was hard to see where one began and the other ended. It was perhaps a selfish thought, or a cowardly one, but I wished it were them up here instead of Paisley and me. They were actually in love. That would've been the foundation of their marriage, not economics. If only Hadley had been the daughter of some tycoon or something, if only she'd been a fabulously wealthy medical doctor instead of a gifted physical therapist, if only I'd been born into a different family, if only our parents had never died, if only ...
I wished I had the balls to let this ranch fail for all of our sakes. Paisley's money would keep us afloat for a while, but once that ran out, all we would have left would be this foolish marriage.
A guitarist started strumming a vaguely familiar tune and everyone stood up and turned their backs to me. That was the first real relief I'd had since I chugged the contents of Emmett's flask. I was no longer under scrutiny.
"Your parents would've been very proud of you, you know."
I blanched and turned to see a doddering minister -- the same shaky old man who had presided over my parents' funeral. I wasn't sure why it shocked me so much to see him there, presiding over my own personal funeral, as he was the only minister in town, but it did.
"It's perfectly natural to be nervous," he continued, his face craggy and wrinkled. "I married your parents, too, you know, and your father sweated bullets the entire t
ime. Then again, it was the dead of summer and the air conditioning unit in the church had gone out."
I didn't know how to respond, how to take any of this. It was far too late to back out now. It didn't make me feel any better to know that the minister had married and buried my parents. I remembered that he had been kind to all of us at the funeral, and that had been something of a comfort. But if he was trying to comfort me now, he hadn't found the right words, yet. I didn't know that anyone had the right words.
The guitarist reached a crescendo -- where had I heard this song before? -- and Paisley and her father appeared to coos and murmurs at the back of all the chairs. She wore a short green dress that matched the ribbons tied around the chairs. It was simple but elegant in the way it flattered her body, but then again, I knew Paisley was so shapely a paper bag would flatter her. She could've sauntered down that aisle completely nude for all I cared -- though I doubted her father would've approved. She didn't look at me as she traversed the crowd of onlookers, which was just as well. Paisley was a smart woman. She had to have known that I wasn't marrying her because I loved her. It was strange to imagine what she must've been thinking, walking this way. Not for the first time, I had a jerk of recognition that she and I had more in common than I thought. We seemed to be sharing an equal amount of dread for the ceremony that was to come.
Sam Summers looked a little worse for wear, walking as slowly as possible without standing completely still, gray in the face, drawn. Bystanders gave him doting little smiles -- of course it was hard marrying off your only daughter. We hadn't really talked -- at least, we hadn't had the talk that I expected to have, the one where he pointed a shotgun at me and dared me to break his daughter's heart -- but I knew he was busy with the ranch. That threat would come one of these days, and maybe even at the reception.
They finally reached where the minister and I were standing and Paisley planted a gentle kiss on her father's cheek. He looked at her like he was trying to memorize her, like he'd never see her again, and then he turned to me and stuck out his hand. I took it and shook it, but then he pulled me in for a hug, clapping my back.
"You'll take care of her, won't you?" he asked me.
I was taken aback. "Sir, I'm pretty sure your daughter can take care of herself and would take offense if anyone suggested otherwise."
"That's what she would prefer everyone to believe, yes," he acknowledged. "But will you take care of her particularly in those moments when she doesn't seem like she needs anyone?"
I felt the hug was going on too long, that people would start whispering, that Paisley's father would smell the liquor on my breath, but I nodded.
"I'll take care of her. I promise."
Sam practically staggered to his seat and I turned to Paisley as the guitarist finished the song.
"Hi," she whispered as everyone took their seats. "Did I you like the song I picked?"
"I couldn't place it, but I know I've heard it before somewhere," I admitted. "It was ... nice."
She gave a small smile as the minister began his spiel. "I didn't think you would actually remember. It was from a homecoming dance way back in high school. It was the first time we'd ever slow danced. I bet if I tried really hard, I could still remember the way your hands felt on my back. You were so nervous."
"I'm nervous now," I said, searching my brain for the memory Paisley had somehow treasured. I remembered the dance, but only vaguely. Paisley had come with another guy, but she had pestered me all evening to take a spin around the dance floor with her. I'd done it then to get her off my back so I could focus on having fun with my friends -- and trying to impress another girl I was interested in hooking up with -- but it had apparently given Paisley the wrong idea, that I actually wanted to be with her. The thought made me feel strangely guilty now.
"Pay attention," she whispered, barely concealing a smile, and I jerked my head back toward the minister.
"Can you blame a man for being so enamored of such a beautiful bride?" he said to titters in the crowd, and I knew I had been so lost in guilt-tinged memories that I'd missed some essential moment of my own wedding.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"As I was saying, do you, Avery Corbin, take Paisley Summers to be your wife?"
Had we already passed the part of the ceremony where people could object to this union? If so, why hadn't anyone done so? Would I have been able to if I'd been paying attention?
There was nothing left to do but say, "I do."
Paisley beamed at me, and repeated the same words when the minister asked her about whether she was ready to be my wife. She seemed a lot more sure of it than I had.
The minister had more words to wrap up everything -- platitudes about love and fidelity and faith -- and I turned back to Paisley.
"Why didn't you wear a white dress?" I asked quietly.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Did you want me to?"
"No, I mean, I don't care -- you can wear whatever you want." I blinked rapidly, not sure if I had fallen into a hole or was digging myself deeper. "I was just wondering about the color."
Paisley leered. "White's a little too virginal for me, don't you agree?"
She actually made me blush at my own wedding. "Jesus, Paisley."
"Oh, stop," she whispered, her shoulders shaking from repressed laughter. "I wore green because that's what color I want the grass to be. Maybe our wedding will bring rain."
That was pure superstition, but I'd heard even the congregation at the church had been praying for it to pour each Sunday. There was nothing people could do to change the weather except wait and hope.
"You may now kiss the bride," the minister said, cutting across my thoughts once more.
Was this the moment I could run for it? Would the touching of our lips seal this contract? Even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew it was ludicrous. After the ceremony, we would be filling out and signing the real contracts -- marriage licenses and the stipulations for merging our family's ranches. There was so much damn work to do, and this was only the beginning.
Paisley lifted her face up to mine expectantly and I obliged with a peck on her lips.
"Oh, I think you can do better than that," she said loudly, eliciting whoops and laughter from the guests behind us.
I flushed even deeper before kissing her again, letting my mouth linger against hers. Everyone applauded, and the guitarist struck up that exact same song for us to walk out to.
"Don't you like any other songs?" I asked her, the reality of the wedding not yet sinking in.
"I've always sort of considered this one as ours," she said with a shrug. "Do you always have to drink whiskey to keep it up?"
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I know you're drunk," she said, continuing to wave and smile even though those words weren't anything to wave and smile about. "I get that this isn't what you want. But could you at least try and scrounge up some respect for me?"
Paisley had been nothing but a doll for the duration of our time together -- sweet and mindless and unrelenting in her affections. What was this new attitude she had? Where had she been hiding it?
"This is my wedding, too," I said. “This is what I want to do to enjoy it.”
“Need alcohol to enjoy life events?” Her words were so angry, but that smile was still firmly in place. “Sex, too?”
“You’re the one who suggested we wait until our wedding night,” I said, mystified as to how she had such a good poker face. “Is that what this is about? That we haven’t had sex since that night?” Because we hadn’t, not that I was lusting over Paisley, especially not now.
“This is about you being drunk for your own wedding,” she said. Out of sight of the crowd, she slipped her hand from my arm and looked up at me. “Do you hate me?”
“No, I don’t hate you.”
“Then act happy,” she said. “You looked terrified up there. Please don’t embarrass me.”
“I’m not doing anything on purpose,” I assured her.
“It’s … natural for a person to be nervous ahead of their wedding.”
“Says who?”
“Says, um, Emmett.”
“What does Emmett know about it?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Come on,” Paisley sighed. “Let’s sign the contracts and get on with it.”
“Get on with it? Now who’s the one minimizing the wedding?”
“Oh, stop it.”
The lawyers we’d hired — well, Chance had to hire a lawyer; Sam was wealthy enough to keep one on retainer, apparently — met us at the DJ booth inside a tent set up for the reception. There it was, all spelled out for us, the marriage license and the contract for the ranch merger. I was literally signing my life away, and I was stubbornly thankful for the whiskey as I scratched my signature into the paper with the pen the lawyer supplied me with. Chance and Sam joined us immediately to also sign the ranch merger agreement.
“I feel like we should kiss again,” Paisley said, breathless with laughter. “That was the real marriage.”
I kissed her to oblige her, though it was chaste for Chance and Sam’s sakes.
Paisley held my face to hers for a moment afterward, and I stared deep into those hazel eyes.
“Do you remember what I told you?” she asked.
“You’ve told me lots of things.”
“About doing something for you. Repaying you.”
“Yes.” This was about the bully all those years ago. “I remember.”
“Your family’s ranch is saved,” she said. “The bank isn’t going to take it. The land our family owns and works has now doubled in size.”
“Yes, that’s right.” What in the world was she getting at?
“We are good for each other, Avery Corbin,” she said. “My debt to you is repaid, your ranch’s debt to the bank is repaid, and now we can go forward and make a good life together.”
“Okay,” I said uncertainly.
Chance and Sam had drifted away to find their seats for dinner, and Paisley let go of my face.
“It doesn’t have to be bad,” she said faintly.
