Page 79 of Marrying Mr. Majestic

I couldn’t get past the idea of filing for divorce. How would Way feel about it? Relieved? Annoyed? Indifferent?

“No.”

“No… what?”

I cleared my throat. “No, I don’t want to have him sign another contract.”

He paused again. “You sure? As your legal spouse, he could?—”

“Yes,” I snapped. “I’m positive. And just call him my husband, for fuck’s sake.”

“Understood,” Kenji said softly.

Landry made a groan of disapproval. “Stop this nonsense and come home. I’m bored as fuck, and Kenji refuses to let me go to Pride Luminance.”

“I don’t know what that is,” I murmured, stretching my neck by tilting my head side to side.

Kenji sighed. “It’s a music festival where he will inevitably get roofied and be happy about it. Bash and Rowe are going to take him to the Hamptons instead. He’s fine.”

“Why is he even at the office right now?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Next thing on the agenda is the list of questions from Tad about scheduling your quarterly investments call. I put it on the calendar for…”

I forced myself to pay attention to the rest of the call.

But thoughts of Way’s reaction to receiving the divorce papers hung dark and heavy in the corners of my consciousness.

TWENTY-FIVE

WAYLON

Even though six weeks had passed since my roundup accident, I couldn’t help thinking back on it as the night that things had seemed to change with Silas. Maybe my injuries had awoken a fiercely protective instinct in him.

In the beginning, when I was still bruised and sore, I’d needed his help a lot. But it seemed like he’d meant it when he said he’d be there if I wanted him because he’d barely left my side, always ready to pitch in and do whatever needed doing while being careful not to step on my toes.

With tourist season in full swing, my days at the mayor’s office had been flat-out. Silas had taken over much of the communication with the AdventureSmash team while I’d continued to support the business owners and municipal teams dealing with the increased traffic in town.

It felt like a true partnership, like what I imagined a true marriage might feel like. We worked well together during the day, then fell into each other’s arms and bodies at night, and once I’d tried bottoming for Silas, I didn’t want to stop. The only thing that slowed me down was having to get in the saddle the next day to run fence checks.

The physical progression was nothing compared to the closeness I felt with him now. In bed or out of it, he’d become the one I relied on, the one I went to for comfort, the one I thought of night and day.

So often in the past few weeks, I’d been tempted to talk to Silas about my feelings, to at least feel him out about the possibility of us trying this relationship for real. But it never seemed to be the right time. Interruptions were like ranch chores; they seemed to multiply every time I thought I’d seen the last of them. We went from one thing to the next to the next… and suddenly, it was July.

And I was trying my hardest not to think about what came after that.

Thanks to Silas and his assistant, we’d scored several additional sponsors for the exhibition, which would bring in more money but also required more support work. Bernice had put together a small team of locals to help, and ZuZu had volunteered to head it up, even though it meant closing her pottery shop for a few hours each day during her busiest sales season.

She, like the rest of us, knew just how much was riding on the exhibition running smoothly. If the athletes and fans had a positive experience and fell in love with Majestic, the company couldn’t help but sign us for one of the big races next year. While I was optimistic about our success, I also knew how quickly and easily things could go wrong.

With one day to go until the exhibition, I walked into the Love Muffin, which was plastered in red, white, and blue bunting and star-spangled Fourth of July streamers. Thankfully, the place was air-conditioned because it was already blisteringly hot outside, despite the early hour.

“Morning, Way,” Sheridan called, glancing over. “Scrambled egg sandwich?”

“Fried eggs and toast, actually. And a cinnamon roll. I’m meeting Foster here in a little while to go over last-minute crowd-control concerns, but first?—”

Sheridan grinned. “But first, you wanted to get Silas breakfast ’cause you’re the most besotted husband in all Wyoming?”

I was. I really was.

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