Page 15 of Marrying Mr. Majestic

Way’s tongue joined mine, and more memories from the other night flooded in. His confidence. His magnetism. His strength. The soft, tender touch of his lips and the downright bossy way he’d shoved a muscular thigh between my legs.

Oh fuck. This was… this was…

I grabbed at his clothes, keeping him from pulling away, but he didn’t even try. His thick fingers were in the back of my hair, the brim of his hat dug into the side of my head. I grabbed it off his head and held it against his back the way I had on the dance floor.

Something about the movement surprised him, and he pulled back with a gasp. His eyes were wide with shock but a little glassy with lust, too.

“Fuck,” he said, looking around frantically before landing his gaze back on me. “Fuck.”

FIVE

WAYLON

I stared at the man I’d just assaulted. My face still tingled from rubbing against his short beard, and the sweet coffee taste of him remained on my tongue. Silas didn’t seem nearly as horrified by my actions as I was.

“I wish,” he muttered, reaching down to adjust himself with his free hand, a move so distracting it took me a full second to realize he was reacting to my muttered Fuck. When I did, my face went fire hot.

“Okay, so you’re on board with the, ah… gay thing. Check.”

My heart couldn’t find a steady rhythm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” I clamped my teeth closed and stood up straighter. “I didn’t mean to just lay one on you like that with no warning.”

Silas let out a laugh. “Mayor Fletcher, if you are ever inclined to lay one on me like that again, I do not require warning. I’m happy to have you prove your point orally anytime you’d like.”

I let out an exhale that sounded a little like a laugh. At least he hadn’t punched me. “Understood.”

The moment stretched awkwardly. I wanted to kiss him again, to feel his hands on my ass and press my hardening dick into his. But I knew that would complicate an already fucked-up situation.

My attraction to him was throwing me for a loop, not because he was a man or for any of the reasons Silas had suggested, but because I’d never wanted anyone this badly before. It had come out of the blue and swarmed me like some kind of plague of locusts. I was mixed up and turned around, wanting to try things I’d never truly considered trying… and wanting to try them with the man I most needed to stay the hell away from.

Foster had been right. I couldn’t risk losing the ranch. If Silas was willing to wait and end this sham of a marriage quietly and without fuss, I needed to stop rocking the boat.

“Maybe I should just… go,” he suggested, peering at me.

I cleared my throat and tried to pull myself together. To act normal. And normal people didn’t panic over a stolen kiss in an alley. “At least let me feed you first. You came all this way, and you were nice enough to go along with keeping things quiet.”

He nodded and turned back in the direction we’d been walking. “So, ah… tell me more about this AdventureSmash thing. You mentioned it the other night, but I didn’t realize what a big deal it was.”

The change of subject was very welcome. “Yeah, so, it’s a company that puts on outdoor adventure races all over the world. Mountain biking, rock climbing, white water kayaking… that kind of thing. It’s like a triathlon in the wilderness. And with us right here at the eastern entrance to Yellowstone, we’ve got all the right resources to host one. Well, I like to think so, but I know the organizers have reservations about selecting us for one of their big races.”

“What are their reservations?”

As we proceeded toward the cafe, I began to relax. Landing this event deal was a critical part of why I needed him to wait on divorce proceedings, so I appreciated his interest, even if it was only for the sake of politeness. “We need commitment from the state for more funding for our wilderness emergency medical response, including search and rescue. We have a team, but it’s mostly made up of volunteers and cross-trained law enforcement and local healthcare personnel. Commercial flights into our private airport would help a ton, but that’s probably not happening. Additional lodging would be better than what we have now, although I’ve got a potential investor lined up to build a new hotel. They’ll only commit if we land the AdventureSmash deal.”

“Does Majestic have a chamber of commerce?”

I shrugged. “Sort of. It’s mostly a handful of busybodies with opinions.” I explained the various aspects of the proposal and the town’s varied reactions to it. “Some folks don’t want the race here. They’re afraid of too many tourists, potential spike in crime, traffic, stuff like that. But they don’t seem to understand that the town’s on the verge of bankruptcy if we can’t get some money coming in.”

Silas asked good questions. It was clear he was familiar with similar challenges involved in getting stakeholders on board before closing a major deal. He even had a few helpful suggestions.

Before I had a chance to ask him more about it, we’d arrived at the Love Muffin. Newly planted flower baskets hung from hooks on either side of the double glass doors, and wooden planters lined the front edges of the building. Sheridan and Aunt Blake must have been busy while I was gone.

JoJo Reynolds was unloading her two youngest kids from a minivan out front of the cafe when she spotted me. “Hey there, Way. Heard you were in Vegas with Eden this weekend,” she said with a knowing smile.

I braced myself for the interrogation, but thankfully, I was saved when her son darted in front of an older man exiting the cafe, nearly causing him to trip. By the time I helped Mr. Miklos to his car and JoJo reprimanded the boy, I’d bustled Silas inside.

It was busy as usual for the weekday lunch rush. Judge Whiteplume sat at his usual table with our local insurance agent. Three ladies from the Lutheran church tittered at a table in the middle of the room while a booth full of older teens sat scrolling on their phones. Two guys I’d gone to high school with were sitting in a group of five or six construction workers most likely taking a break from the Stanner building job down the street, and my aunt waved her hands expressively while taking Brett Marsman’s order at the long counter in the back.

All eyes turned toward us as the bell on the door finished jangling. Aunt Blake glanced over to see who’d entered, and when she recognized me, an unholy fire burned in her gaze.

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