by Magan Vernon
“Clay ...” Her voice lowered with a sense of sorrow. I didn’t want or need her sympathy.
I shook my head. “Don’t, okay? I know what I am. I can pretend to be the badass, but we both know that we are what we are no matter how hard we try to change it.”
“And what you are isn’t what you think either. Yeah, you may think it sucks where you’re at, but we both know you do more shit for the ranch than anyone else. While Pat, or whatever the hell that general manager’s name is, just sits on his ass all day, you get to know the workers. Get to know all the people who are coming in for every event or to train and board their horses. Everyone at Q knows that. My family knows it. If my dad knew we got married and you wanted to take over the ranch, he’d probably initially be shocked but then throw a huge party, knowing it wasn’t his responsibility to marry me off or find someone to take over the ranch anymore.”
“You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better,” I grumbled.
Her hand was on mine, sending a warm surge of energy through my body. I looked up to meet her warm brown eyes as she smiled. “I’m not. I’m saying it because it’s true.”
I wanted to tell her how fucking much those words meant to me. How no one else thought I was anything. But before I got a chance to even figure out how to voice it, our waitress came with our food, and we both dug in, looking for an emotional break.
By the time we left lunch, it was already late afternoon, and on the ride home, I glanced over to see Christy curled in a little ball, her eyes shut and lips slightly pursed.
It was utterly creepy just to watch someone sleep, but something was different about it with her.
Everything was different with her.
And I didn’t know what that meant.
I told myself this was all supposed to be for the ranch. That if we stayed married, I could work something out with her dad.
But deep down, I knew that would never happen. Yet I still left Vegas married to the girl who was still wearing my ring, and I was wearing hers.
We didn’t discuss making an appointment with a lawyer. We never actually figured out what we were going to do, which was half the point of this day.
But in the end, I knew that right here, together, was where we were supposed to be at this moment. For however long that lasted.
Chapter 18
Christy
“If this is all going to be a big mistake, let’s make it the most fun one we can,” Clay said, squeezing my hand as we walked into the small room.
My heels got caught on the paper aisle runner, and I reached down, loosening my shoe from the offending piece.
My eyes trailed over the floral carpet and rickety wooden pews, all the way up to the array of rainbow-colored paper flowers that decorated the tall white plastic pillars. In the middle of all that was a sparkly Elvis impersonator, complete with rhinestone jumpsuit and pompadour.
He swiveled his hips and pronounced the hunka, hunka burnin’ union of Stacy and Rhonda. The couple in matching white pantsuits.
The happy pair embraced and kissed before being ushered to the side with a whole gaggle of cheering women following them.
A bored-looking woman with a clipboard and large glasses nudged our sides. “Carrington and Quinn. You’re up next.”
“Knock ’em dead, doll,” Stormi said from behind me, nudging my shoulder before she shot me a wink.
I didn’t reply and just nodded.
It was as if I was floating. Not even using my own feet to move down the aisle toward the smiling Elvis impersonator.
The woman with the clipboard handed Elvis a piece of paper, and he put it on his open Bible, nodding with a lot of uh-huhs and curling his upper lip.
“All right, Clay and Christy, are you two ready to let everyone in this whole cell block rock?” He swiveled his hips, giving a few uh-huhs and grunts.
“We are,” Clay said before I could even open my mouth to answer.
“Dearly beloved ...” Elvis started.
He went through the typical wedding vows with a few hip thrusts, swivels, and a lot of uh-huhs thrown in.
Normally, I would have been mortified and probably should have just told Clay there was no way in hell I was going through this.
But when I looked up to meet those deep green eyes, I couldn’t deny the butterflies soaring in my stomach. The way this man had made me smile and feel things I hadn’t ever felt in my life.
Even when I was pretty sure I always hated him, it was anything but disgust for him at that moment.
“Clay, do you take this tender-lovin’ woman to be your hunka, hunka burnin’ love in matrimony for as long as you both shall live?” Elvis said, swinging his arms and bending his knee while saying a few more uh-huhs.
This was the moment he could have said no, and we would have been done with this charade.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he squeezed my hands and said, “I do.”
Then Elvis turned to me, asking me the same question with a wink.
I sucked in a deep breath, wondering if my mind would finally clear and I’d realize the error of my ways.
But instead, I smiled and said, “I do.”
Holy shit.
Did I really just marry the Mohawked cowboy?
Chapter 19
Clay
When we got back to Friendship, Christy finally woke up, stretching her arms over her head as she got out of the car.
“You know, you can stay for a while if you want. We can hang out, watch a movie, chill with Snogs?” I asked, trying to be casual but internally screaming and willing her to say yes.
I’d known this girl forever and always thought I was annoyed in her presence, but just like today, my dick always told me otherwise. Maybe I should have listened, knowing my lustful attraction was more. Way more than even I wanted to admit.
She shook her head, and my heart sank. “Sorry. I should really be getting home. I didn’t think we’d be out this late ...”
“Yeah. Okay. I understand. Guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”
She nodded. “Yeah. See you then.”
Without a hug, kiss, or hell, even a wave, she walked to the end of the driveway and got in her car, leaving me there and wondering what the hell I was going to do about my wife by mistake.
THE NEXT MORNING, NOAH had another early gig, but this time, he didn’t make coffee.
Brooke was working on a new book, so I knew she’d be hanging out at the Forever Sweet Bakery in downtown Friendship.
Sometimes, she’d be at home, and I’d make a batch of deadline donuts, as she called them. They were basically cake mix and yogurt but worked when she didn’t want to put on real pants to leave the house, and we’d sit with a few cups of coffee and bullshit for a while.
But when I looked out the window, her car wasn’t in the driveway, so I figured it was a real pants day, and she’d gone to the bakery.
I figured I could use some sisterly advice and some decent coffee and donuts.
The sun had barely risen over the horizon, and it was cold as balls on the short run from my car to the bakery.
I didn’t frequent the little place too often with its white reclaimed wood counter and small tables with mismatched chairs. It seemed a little too cutesy for my liking, but they did have good coffee, and when Noah was nice enough to bring me a donut, that I didn’t make myself, I never complained.
The on-the-way-to-work crowd had already left, and I expected to see Brooke perched in the corner on her laptop. But the place was empty.
Shit. Maybe I should have texted her first.
It was deadline time since she was always on one of those, but where would she have gone?
I thought about getting out my phone to text her or maybe go by Target, her favorite procrastination spot.
Then I saw the tall brunette walk in from the back room and approach the counter. The one I recognized as Christy’s good friend Abbey.
We had a little heart-to-heart a fe
w months back at Christy’s birthday party when their bitch friend Teagan made a scene, and then Abbey’s boyfriend got in the middle of it. I couldn’t even remember all the details, but I knew Abbey was a solid girl. I wondered if she knew anything about what was going through Christy’s head, or our Vegas trip ... and the nuptials.
“Mornin’, Abbey, got anything good baking?” I asked, sliding up to the counter.
Abbey was only about two inches shorter than I was, all legs with big doe eyes. When she looked at me with flour in her hair and a stained T-shirt, for the first time, the girl didn’t look like the scared deer I always saw her as, but actually ... I couldn’t come up with the right word, but I guess happy would be it.
“Hey, Clay. We sold out of the bear claws that Noah usually gets, but we still have some danishes and cinnamon rolls. Or if you want something savory, I just took some more croissants and kolaches out of the oven not too long ago but can warm them up again if you like the cheese gooey.”
So, she was still being really nice, even happy. Not pissed or giving me the side eye.
Apparently, Christy wasn’t complaining about me too much. That, and the girl was probably getting laid. I wonder if she was still with that artist guy or whatever happened with them.
“You know, the kolache does sound good. That, and a pecan latte.”
She raised an eyebrow. “A flavored latte?”
“Yeah. You not do those anymore?”
“No. I just didn’t peg you for a flavored drink guy. I thought you’d be more of a black coffee and a plain donut order.” She laughed.
“I’m full of surprises, I guess.”
Little did she know just how many.
“Yeah. I’d say that about you.” She winked and grabbed a kolache from the tray, putting it on a plate before setting it in the microwave to the left of the counter.
“Is that a wink like you know something, or are you hitting on me right now? Because I gotta know,” I said, putting my hands up, hoping it wasn’t the second option. Or how the hell I’d explain that I was with someone else.
She snorted, pulling the kolache out of the microwave and sliding it in my direction. Then she picked up a silver pitcher and poured some milk into it. “I’m taken, Clay, and I’m pretty sure you have eyes for my best friend.”
“Eyes? Ey? Is that what they call it now?”
Steaming the milk, she yelled over the noise of the machine, “Whatever you wanna call it, you have it for Christy, I think. Did you two end up having a good time in Vegas? I haven’t heard from her.”
So, she didn’t know. At least that was a good thing. I think.
I nodded as she turned off the steamer and poured the milk into a Styrofoam cup before adding in the espresso and syrup, then stirring it. “Yeah. A pretty crazy time. You know how Vegas can be.”
“Actually, I don’t. Haven’t been there yet, but Jordan and I have talked about going out there. Not this year, though, with Sofie’s wedding on Christmas Eve and all that. Maybe next winter or something.”
“Jordan? The dude from the party?” I raised an eyebrow, taking the cup as she handed it to me.
“Yep. The very one.”
“So, you two worked things out.” I swirled the drink before taking a small sip of the warm liquid sugary goodness.
“Took a while with me going to find him in New York and him moving back to Friendship, but in the end, it all worked out.” She stopped almost midsentence and leaned on the counter. “Are you asking because you genuinely care or because you’re fishing for something with Christy?”
“Hey, I’m not always an asshole. Maybe I do genuinely care.” I smirked.
And maybe I was fishing a bit, but I would not tell her that part.
“Well, if you must know, I haven’t exactly heard Christy say she has eyes for you too, but if I were a guy trying to impress her, I’d maybe just flat out go and tell her. She likes things straight out in the open like that.”
“Duly noted.” I nodded.
Thinking maybe tiptoeing around her wasn’t the best idea, and I should go full force. If only I knew how to do that. If only I knew I wouldn’t hurt her or get my ass fired in the process.
“And I have to say that if you do go for it with her, and you hurt her, I know where you live, and I’m a really good shot. So, don’t mess it up.”
I laughed, watching her point a plastic fork at me as if she could really do some damage.
Putting my hands up, I laughed. “Hey, I’ll never mess with the bakery girl or the boss’s daughter.”
She nodded. “Good. Wouldn’t want to hurt you or your pretty little Mohawk.”
Before I could think of a snappy comeback, the bell rang over the door and in ran my sister with her phone pressed to her ear and her laptop clutched against her chest.
“Yes. Okay. How long until you can get him back up in the air? Why the hell didn’t anyone forecast that much snow in New York? That’s ridiculous.”
“Uh-oh. Eddie must be stuck,” Abbey whispered.
“And if Brooke’s the one handling his travel, we’re all in for a shitshow.” I leaned on the counter, watching as my sister set up her laptop without even looking in our direction, then stood with a hand on her hip, her brow furrowed.
“No, I’m not his assistant or someone you can just talk down to. I’m just trying to get the guy home for Christmas, okay? Yes, I know Christmas is still two weeks away, but at the rate y’all are movin’, I’m fixin’ just to rent a big van and go up there to get him myself.”
I had to laugh. The angrier Brooke got, the more a little Southern twang crept in her voice.
Whatever the person on the other end of the line said caused my furious sister to push her glasses up her nose and finally notice I was standing there. She glared in my direction as she spoke the last words into her phone. “Call me back when you find a flight. Today. Or there will be some very nasty tweets coming your way from a lot of authors.”
She hung up the phone, then looked from me to Abbey. “Y’all have no business laughing when you would have been ten times worse.”
Putting my hands up, I backed away so Brooke could get to the counter. “Hey, I never said that.”
“Good. Then you can buy me my morning latte and scone.” She smirked.
I looked at Abbey and handed her my credit card. “I guess you got the princess’s order?”
“Have it memorized by now.”
WHEN BROOKE GOT HER breakfast, we both sat at her little table as a few more stragglers came into the shop.
“So, did you come here specifically to see me about something or just want some morning coffee?” she asked, raising her eyebrows before taking a sip from her foam cup.
“You don’t beat around the bush, do ya?”
She shook her head. “Sometimes, you just have to get right to the good stuff. Or, in my case, I need to figure out what you want so I can finish this book before my deadline.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, wishing I had something better to say or how to voice what I was thinking without sounding like a pansy.
“Look, Clay, I know this probably has something to do with what happened in Vegas, which, by the way, is totally going in a book.” She stopped and held up a finger, then put her hand down on her pastry.
I rolled my eyes, but she ignored me and continued talking.
“Eddie has a lawyer he works with in Royse City. You mention his name, and he’ll do the divorce discreet, quick, and at a discount since Eddie gives him more business than anyone in five counties.”
“What if I don’t want the divorce?” I blurted.
Brooke’s eyes practically bulged out of her head. “I’m sorry, come again? My brother wants to stay an honest, married man?”
Blowing a breath of air out of my nose, I raked my hand through my Mohawk. “I’m not saying that either.”
“Then what are you getting at?” She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I don’t fucking kno
w, Brooke. I wish I did. But I’m twisted. Honestly, at first, I was thinking holy shit, maybe this could be something good for me, and I can use this to get her dad’s ranch or at least run the place.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”
“Yeah, which is exactly why I knew that wasn’t my plan at all. I’ve liked this girl for a while, and if we do go through with ending all of it ... then I could lose both my job and her if we aren’t careful.”
It was the first time I voiced everything swirling in my head, and a wave of nausea hit me.
God, how I could be vulnerable and say that even to my sister?
Why was I so shaken up by this girl in the first place?
“So, what do you want me to do?” she asked, leaning forward.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was hoping you’d have some kind of sisterly advice.”
“Wanna invite her to make Christmas cookies at Mom’s Friday night? Hopefully, Eddie will be in too.”
“You really think that’s a good idea?” I asked, thinking of Christy with Violet asking her possibly inappropriate questions and Mom asking when the wedding would be.
She shrugged. “Do you think getting married in Vegas was a good idea?”
“Touché.”
Chapter 20
Christy
How long had I been kissing Clay in front of Elvis?
I was lost in those amazing lips.
And God, his tongue.
I’d heard of some men saying the alphabet on a woman while going down on her, but this man could play an entire symphony in my mouth.
“Okay, okay, break it up, you two. It’s time for the next couple,” clipboard lady yelled, clapping right next to our ears.
I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips as I buried my face in Clay’s shoulder, inhaling his earthy, manly scent.
He pulled me close as we turned and headed out of the chapel into the stale desert night air.
