Page 28 of Marrying Mr. Majestic

I shrugged. “I guess I’m just wondering why you feel like you need to be everything for everybody all the time. Hell, Way, I’ve only known you for ten minutes, and I can see the demands this place and the town put on you. And you take it all on like it’s some kind of?—”

He shrugged out of my grip and stepped to the side, reaching for the door handle on his old truck. “You know you don’t need to act like my husband when it’s just us, right? No pep talk needed.”

I held my hands up and stepped back from him. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry if I overstepped. It’s none of my business. I just… it seems like you’re trying to be everyone’s hero around here, and I just wonder if maybe there’s a better way, that’s all.”

The edge of his lip turned up, and the stress seemed to leave his expression for the most part. “You trying to corporate strategize me, city boy?”

I grinned. “Maybe.”

He yanked open the metal door with a screech. “Well, cut that shit out. Save it for your consulting whatever-the-fuck.”

As he slid into the truck, I contemplated offering to help him with his chores. But with my lack of experience on a ranch and his current mood, that seemed like it would only cause him more trouble in the long run.

I turned around and entered the tiny house. It was charming and homey despite its small size. I helped myself to a glass of water from the tap and looked around the interior.

I poked my head into his bedroom to see what I could learn about him. It took me half a second to realize he’d been right when he’d said it was more of a nook than a room. The queen-sized bed took up the entire space. Built-in bookshelves lined the interior wall, and a wide window took up most of the opposite one with a view of the river and mountains in the distance. It must have been an incredibly inspirational way to wake up in the morning.

The bookshelf held several paperbacks, ranging from classics to cowboy westerns to modern-day spy novels. It didn’t really surprise me that he was a reader since I imagined the nights were long and dark out here, especially in winter, but I still enjoyed seeing evidence of his tastes. It helped feel like he wasn’t quite such a stranger.

In the wall between the arched door to the bed nook and the arched door to the bathroom was an almost hidden door to a closet. It was filled on one side with shelves of neatly folded blue jeans and T-shirts, a cardboard boot box full of rolled-up boxer briefs, and another boot box of neatly paired socks. On the other side was a short hanging bar crammed with various sweatshirts and jackets, one suit, a couple of pairs of khaki pants, and some kind of work overalls like the kind mechanics wore. On the bare wood floor was a nicer pair of cowboy boots, a worn pair of running shoes, a pair of lace-up work boots like the kind you’d wear at a construction site, and a seemingly beloved pair of old Snoopy slippers.

I knew I was invading his privacy by poking into his things, but seeing how he lived and what he prioritized in this small space made me feel less like I was married to a complete stranger and more like I was temporarily connected to a real person.

When I glanced into the bathroom, I was surprised to see it was a much larger space than I expected. At first glance, it should have been about the same size as the bed nook. But in reality, the sink, toilet, and built-in linen closet took up that amount of space, but then the room was bumped out the back, doubling the space with a custom shower surrounded on all sides with clear glass.

What the shower lacked in privacy, it more than made up for in breathtaking views. In fact, this little house seemed to have killer views from every vantage point, positioned like it was in the wide curve of the river. Aspen trees lined the left-hand side of the shower view, presumably blocking the shower from anyone in the driveway where Way had parked his truck.

I moved back out to my rental car and pulled out my messenger bag and glanced at the small suitcase I’d taken to Vegas. The cottage didn’t really have anywhere for me to store it, so I opened the suitcase and pulled out one clean change of clothes and my toiletry kit, leaving everything else in the car.

Once back in the house, I forced myself to get some work done, which involved taking my laptop and phone back out to the river’s edge to get enough signal to download my email. Since it was a warm, late-spring day, I decided to work outside until I’d gotten the most urgent needs done.

Then, I finally allowed myself to return to the cottage, strip down, and see what it was like to take a shower in full view of the Rocky Mountains and Majestic River while the sun moved down toward the peaks in the distance, turning everything around us warm and gold.

I was about as far away from New York City as I could get, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt like maybe I was okay with that.

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.

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