Page 83 of Marrying Mr. Majestic

His only answer was a smile and an eye roll.

I drove home with a nervous churning in my gut and a dangerously fast heart rate. What if he laughed at me? What if he cared about me but not enough to want to consider a life in Wyoming? Would I move for him? Who would take care of the ranch? Who would take charge of Majestic’s municipal interests?

By the time I drove past the ranch house and barn, I’d started second-guessing whether the timing was right for my confession. What if he rejected me? What if he truly did have divorce papers for me to sign? Would I be able to play town host for our big weekend while secretly bleeding out from the heartbreak?

Fuck.

When I pulled up to the little house, two cars I didn’t recognize were parked in a cluster around Silas’s rental, and a group of men stood and sat around the tiny porch talking and laughing.

They were all beautiful, as if a modeling convention had suddenly magicked itself to my home.

“Uh… hello?” I asked after hopping out of the truck. “May I help you?”

Silas stepped out of the front door and handed a few bottles of water out. “There he is. Guys, this is Waylon. Way, these are my friends.” He began pointing at each man in turn. “Sebastian Dayne—we call him Bash—Landry’s the one with long hair, Zane over there, and of course, you already know Dev. Oh, and that’s Kenji with his face in his phone.”

I hadn’t noticed Dev, but as soon as Silas pointed out his friend Zane, I realized why. I’d been staring at the man he introduced as Zane. “You’re Zee Barlo.” I may have mostly been a country music fan, but everyone knew this guy’s recent climb to fame as a talented musician.

The man blushed. “Yeah.”

Landry rolled his eyes. “He’s only shy when he’s not onstage.”

“Anyway,” Silas said, “they came to help. Put them to work however you want.”

“Nice to meet all of you,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment at the unexpected visitors. At least their presence had made my decision easier. There was no way I’d get Silas alone to have such an important conversation now. “Welcome to Majestic.”

Landry flicked his hair over his shoulder. “So… you’re the husband, huh? Mm. And this place is yours?”

From the look on his face, he was less than impressed.

“It is.”

Silas frowned. “The ranch has been in Waylon’s family for generations. He built this house himself.”

Landry sniffed and looked around. “Where’d you put poor Dev? Is there an outhouse, or…?”

His rudeness surprised me, but more than that, it tweaked every insecurity I’d always had about our money troubles. Heat flooded my face, and I felt my heart pound in humiliation.

Silas stepped forward as if he was going to get in his friend’s personal space. “What the fuck are you?—”

Dev lightly shoved Landry’s shoulder. “I’m staying in an apartment over the main barn. Stop being an ass.”

Landry shrugged. “I just think it’s awfully convenient that this guy happened to marry our strong, well-connected friend right when he needed free labor and a few good sponsorships, that’s all.”

Silas’s annoyance ratcheted mine up by a factor of ten. “What exactly are you implying?” I snapped as Bash moved Silas away from Landry.

Kenji barely looked up from his phone. “Ignore him. He’s trying to bait you.”

Landry’s lips widened in a lazy grin. “Doesn’t take much with these country boys, does it? Gotta hand it to you, though. This whole Vegas marriage sham sure was an elegant way of using someone without making it seem like you’re?—”

Silas strained against the arm Bash was using to hold him back. “What the fuck, Landry?”

“I’m not using anyone,” I barked, balling my hands into fists to keep from shoving him in the chest. How dare he show up here and upset Silas? I didn’t care what he said about me, but I sure as shit didn’t want him insulting Silas or causing him to doubt me. “I would never use someone like that. I didn’t set out to do anything other than have a drink at a fucking bar. We started talking, and then… and then… things happened. I didn’t plan it, and I’m not using him! I could never do that.”

“Anyone could do it if they were desperate enough,” he said.

“Not me.” My back teeth hurt from where they clenched tightly against the words I truly wanted to hurl at him. My patience was a wash-worn hole in ancient denim. One little flick of a fingernail and the entire thing would unravel.

“Why not?” Landry asked, cool as the river water snaking through the distance.

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