Page 27 of Marrying Mr. Majestic

“It could be worse, though. Just think, it was almost Landry who went to that bar in Vegas instead of me.”

I could practically hear his eyes bug out and his lungs recoil in horror. “He would have never. Yes, the manwhore would have slept with someone incredibly inappropriate. Multiple someones. And he most likely would have been arrested if Zane hadn’t been tasked with babysitting him. But he wouldn’t have married anyone. Even dead drunk and half-lobotomized, Landry wouldn’t involve himself in that kind of commitment.”

Suddenly, I heard Landry’s voice in the background. “Hey! I heard that. I’m sitting right here, for fuck’s sake!”

“I thought you were home sick,” I said with a laugh. “And what’s Landry doing at the office?”

There was a strange kind of pause. “I am home sick. Landry just stopped by to annoy me.”

“Heard that, too,” Landry whined. “I came by to bring you dinner.”

Kenji’s voice sounded muffled and annoyed. “You came by to bring me your leftover pizza. Which definitely seems like the perfect choice for someone with a sore throat, so great job.”

Landry continued bitching in the background while Kenji turned his attention back to me. “I’m assuming I’ll have to reschedule the Toronto trip and maybe ask the London team if you can dial in remote. Anything else you need?”

I thought of the work I’d committed to do in the next six weeks. “Yeah. You’ve got to find me some internet because I have maybe one square foot of cell coverage out here, and accessing it practically requires a blood ritual.”

Before he ended the call, I said, “Wait. One more thing. Find me everything you can on AdventureSmash races and the company that puts them on.”

I could hear him typing in the background. “Anything in particular? Is this a potential client?”

“Not a client. They’re hosting a test race here in Majestic to see if they want to select it for a bigger race next year. I want to find out what’s involved in their selection process. Helpful information would include a commercial impact report on other host towns, RFP process and requirements, bios on their stakeholders and executives, that kind of thing. I want to know about the health of the company, competitors, scandals, etc. Got it?”

“Of course. Give me a little time. And it would help if you’d convince this miscreant to remove his useless carcass from my brand-new chaise.”

“Still hearing you,” Landry muttered.

I ended the call and took one last look at the incredibly expansive view before heading back to the cottage.

Way was leaning back against his truck with his arms folded across his chest. When he saw me coming, he stood up and resettled his hat. He looked vaguely unsettled. “I didn’t want to leave without telling you, but I have to go feed the horses and do some work in the barn. Help yourself to whatever, and when I get back, we can make the pizza Sheridan brought.”

“Yeah, no problem.” I tried to determine how he was feeling, but I didn’t know him well enough for it. “You okay?”

“Sure, fine.”

It was hard to see his expression clearly under the shadow of his hat brim, so I stepped closer and pulled it off his head. He narrowed his eyes. Way’s usual golden-boy friendliness was nowhere to be found.

“I’m gonna need that.”

I held it behind my back. “I can’t see your face when you hide under this thing. You look upset.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Upset? Why would that be? Is it because I didn’t get shit done at work today? Or because I still have hours of shoveling shit left? Or because everyone I know is now wondering if I’ve lost my damned mind? Or because I completely forgot to tell my baby sister that I up and got married, so she probably had to find out about it from half a dozen nosy nellies in town stopping by her pottery studio ‘just because’ and happening to mention what her idiot brother did?”

“Sounds like you’ve been stewing about this for a little while.”

“Ever since Sheridan left,” he admitted.

I reached back out and settled the hat on his head. Then I stepped even closer and rested my hands on his shoulders, digging my thumbs into the compacted muscle on either side of his neck. “Take a breath.”

Way’s eyes angled away from mine, off toward the river, while he inhaled through his nose. “I can handle it,” he muttered.

“Mmhm. That’s not in doubt. The question is, should you have to?”

He glanced back at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I continued pressing out the tension in his neck and shoulders. “Everyone sure seems to have an opinion on your life.”

He waited for me to continue.

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