Chapter 11

ELEVEN

WAYLON

I'd never raced toward afternoon chores with so much single-mindedness before, but I was several hours past needing a break from the absolute mayhem of my day.

And I needed time to think.

After filling troughs and stuffing hay nets for the nearby paddocks, I headed into the barn to muck stalls and check on the handful of horses currently housed inside.

I'd stripped off my outer shirt to save it from getting ruined, and the tank underneath was already covered in hay, dirt, and sweat. The physical work was helping, though. I didn't feel any clearer mentally, but I felt like the last of the Vegas alcohol had finally finished processing out of my pores.

Foster's slow clap managed to make it through the music pumping in my headphones and nearly scared the shit out of me.

I yanked out my headphones and glared at him. "Jesus."

"Amazing job getting out of that marriage, Mayor. Do you offer professional consultations?" His lazy grin was begging to be punched.

"Don't start."

"What the hell happened? When I left you, it seemed like everything was under control. Did he insist on going public or something? If so, that was an asshole thing to do."

"It wasn't his fault. Things… just happened." I tossed the rake and pushed the wheelbarrow into the aisle before returning Letty back to her newly cleaned stall.

"According to tea spilling all over town, ‘things' was that man's tongue in your throat."

I hid my hot face in the side of Letty's thick neck, inhaling the familiar scent of horse and hay. "Yeah. That wasn't his fault, either," I muttered.

He let out a surprised sound of amusement. "Mayor Fletcher, you surprise me. You mean to tell me you accidentally kissed the guy again ?"

I closed the stall gate and shot him a look. "You saw the man. Can you blame me?"

Foster's face sported a wide, familiar grin. "You are shocking me right now. It's like everything I've ever known and relied on has been turned topsy-turvy. My straight best friend, the town's upright example of masculine perfection, has come over to the dark side. Will wonders never cease."

"It was a mistake," I admitted. "I shouldn't have done it. If I'd been able to keep my hands to myself, we wouldn't be in this predicament now."

"That's the part I don't get. Why not divorce out in the open now that everyone knows—?" He seemed to realize what he'd said. "Oh- ho . I get it. It's because everyone knows. Because you can't handle anyone seeing you're less than perfect."

His knowing grin got on my last nerve. "Explain to me how I'm supposed to tell the town that I got drunk married to a stranger when they're counting on me to be the sane, responsible one around here! And I've already had this shit from Sheridan today about my recklessness , okay? I don't need it from you, too."

Foster hesitated before nodding. "Fine. Then what's the plan, Way? Because I don't see how pretending this is some kind of love match makes a whole lotta difference when the end result is the same."

"I just need to get through roundup and the exhibition race. That's all. Then we can tell everyone it didn't work out and go our separate ways." I swung open the next stall gate and clipped a lead to the mare inside before leading her out.

Foster kept talking. "Meanwhile, what? He's going to live with you in that tiny shoebox of yours? Where's he gonna sleep?"

I froze. My brain had been so full of things I hadn't really stopped to think about the logistics of it. "I… I guess I thought one of us would sleep on the sofa?"

He said what we both knew. "It's a love seat. Definitely not long enough for either of you."

I cleared my throat. "We'll figure it out."

He got that knowing grin on his face again. "I think it would be best to share the bed, frankly."

"That's not happening. And can you mind your own business?" I snapped. "Pastor Kincaid warned me there was a gay agenda. I'm starting to think he was right."

Foster's laugh filled the barn, and I couldn't help chuckling, too. He always did have a way of hassling me into a better mood, even when I strongly resisted.

His eyes sparkled. "Let that man teach you a thing or two, Waylon. Might as well get some fringe benefits while you're married to him. I know I would."

I stopped laughing and narrowed my eyes at him. "Stop thinking about fucking my husband."

He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his duty belt sitting firmly over his narrow hips. "Why don't you give me one good reason I can't hook up with him. He's a beautiful gay man, Way. We don't get too many of those around here."

My stomach tumbled uncomfortably. "Because… someone could find out."

He lifted his chin. "You sure there's no other reason?"

I stared at him, clamping my teeth together to keep from admitting the truth. But he'd always been able to outlast me in the waiting game.

"Fine!" I cried, throwing my hands up and accidentally startling the mare into hopping sideways. "Fine, do not put your fucking hands on him because he is mine , okay? That make you feel better? The stupid caveman thing?"

His easy grin returned, and he unfolded his arms to rub his hands together in satisfaction. "Sooo much better. Yes it does. It does, indeed."

I glared at him while I attached the mare's lead to a hook across the aisle so I could muck her stall.

Foster stepped up and rubbed her nose. "Score one for the Gay Agenda, sweet girl," he murmured at her. "It truly does take a village, doesn't it?"

"I hate you," I called over my shoulder as I started shoveling the shit.

His laughter and the familiar scents and sounds of the barn relaxed me. Foster continued talking to the mare while I cleaned the stall. Memories of all the times we'd spent together on the ranch growing up flitted in and out of my mind while I listened to him coo and tease the horses in nearby stalls. He was a good friend. The best. And I trusted him more than anyone.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" I finally asked as I approached the mare to return her to her stall.

Foster hesitated. "Yeah, but not for the reason you think."

"What reason do I think?"

"You think you're doing it to keep the drama down. It's not. Sure, instead of having drunk Vegas marriage drama, you have surprised gay marriage drama. Still drama. Still going to be what everyone is talking about in town for a while. The difference is when you two finally do get divorced, the drama will get a nice big second wave, and you'll be at the center of it again. Will the timing be better next time around?" He shrugged. "Maybe. But with you, there's always something. Right now, you're postponing it until after AdventureSmash because you're so busy. But when you land the GrandSmash deal for next year, you're going to be busy working on that."

He wasn't wrong. But it wasn't like I could change it now. "And what's the real reason you think I'm doing the right thing?"

He studied me for a moment before pulling in a deep breath. "Way… you were due for a little excitement. No… that's not quite right. A shake-up. You've always tried to keep everything just so, like the way you used to store your Matchbox cars in that plastic box with the little dividers. You had a system. Sports cars on this row, antique ones on that row, trucks at the bottom, that kind of thing. You've always been like that. And you try to run the ranch and the town exactly the same way."

Foster's big hands came up in front of him to keep me from explaining that my way was clearly the right way to run things. Nobody could argue with that.

"Yeah, I get it," he continued. "We want an organized mayor. Absolutely. You're responsible, and that's a good thing. Hell, it's a great thing. But you're so busy keeping your cars in little divided sections that you never take the time to drive them." He lifted an eyebrow as if that was supposed to make his point clear.

I waited for him to elaborate or at least finish his lecture.

He pursed his lips, lifted and settled his hat back on his head, and then grinned. "Go back to your dollhouse and fuck that city boy, Mayor Fletcher. Take his goddamned car out and drive it ."

I rolled my eyes. "Really? You're telling me to get laid? You coulda just said that, you know."

He turned to leave, but before he reached the open doorway, he turned back around. "You know… if you plan on pulling this charade off, you two are going to need to get to know each other a little. JoJo Reynolds already stopped me in town and started asking questions about your new husband. It occurs to me that they're going to be asking you those same questions. And you're going to have to have some answers."

As I watched him walk out of the shadows and into the late-afternoon sun, my stomach dropped.

Foster was right. I didn't know a damned thing about the man I'd married.

And if we were going to pull off pretending to be a real couple, we were going to have to get to know each other for real.

And make it convincing.

I finished my chores as quickly as I could and raced back to the house. The more time I'd had to think about it, the more I'd convinced myself that someone in town—likely even someone from my family—would see right through us unless we spent a good amount of time tonight learning about each other.

And maybe it would be fun. We could turn it into a game or something. I actually looked forward to learning more about him. Silas was different from me. And different wasn't something we saw around here often.

I parked next to his little rental just as my phone buzzed with a call from my little sister.

"I'm sorry," I said as soon as the call connected. Out of habit, I headed to the river to make sure the call didn't drop.

ZuZu's voice held a fond exasperation that reminded me of my mom back in the early days, back before my father had worn her down and rubbed all the easy off her. "Sorry for marrying a hottie—by the way, that was Aunt Blake's take, not mine—or sorry you somehow forgot to notify your actual family about it?"

I opened my mouth to say, "Both," but for some reason, I couldn't. Because part of me wondered if I was truly sorry for either one. Obviously, I shouldn't have married a stranger, but… well… I was happy I'd had an excuse to see him again. And if we hadn't gotten married…

"I should have told you before you found out from someone else," I said. "It all kind of happened fast, and I?—"

"When can I meet him? You gonna bring him to town tomorrow? Maybe you two can stop by the studio. I assume you don't exactly want visitors tonight at your place." Her laugh was carefree, which seemed impossible considering my situation.

"What do you mean?" I asked stupidly.

"Uh… newlyweds ? I expected you two would be… busy?"

I glanced back at the house, as if Silas could somehow overhear my sister's sexual implication from so far away. As I opened my mouth to stammer out a reply, however, I caught sight of someone through the large glass walls of my shower.

Someone completely naked and very, very wet.

"Uh."

"Way?"

The early evening sun slanted over the mountains in the distance, laying out a warm golden stripe across the land between the river and my house, lighting up the glorious bare body of my new husband like he was the center of the goddamned universe, a gift from the gods themselves.

"Guh."

I stepped closer to get a better look. Fluffy soap suds meandered down his back and the stark black tattoos scrawled across his arm— Good god. The buttoned-up city boy has tattoos everywhere?— until a clump of them stopped on the side of his ass. His muscles bunched and stretched as he scrubbed himself, setting the suds in motion again.

Something was wrong with the air around me. It didn't work the same way it used to.

"Waylon? I think the connection is bad."

"Nuh," I breathed.

The sound of her grumble preceded the end of the call. I shoved the phone into my back pocket and reached for my uncomfortably crowded dick.

Which was exactly when the naked man in my shower looked up and caught me staring at him like some kind of Peeping Tom.