Page 29 of Marrying Mr. Majestic

“According to tea spilling all over town, ‘things’ was that man’s tongue in your throat.”

I hid my hot face in the side of Letty’s thick neck, inhaling the familiar scent of horse and hay. “Yeah. That wasn’t his fault, either,” I muttered.

He let out a surprised sound of amusement. “Mayor Fletcher, you surprise me. You mean to tell me you accidentally kissed the guy again?”

I closed the stall gate and shot him a look. “You saw the man. Can you blame me?”

Foster’s face sported a wide, familiar grin. “You are shocking me right now. It’s like everything I’ve ever known and relied on has been turned topsy-turvy. My straight best friend, the town’s upright example of masculine perfection, has come over to the dark side. Will wonders never cease.”

“It was a mistake,” I admitted. “I shouldn’t have done it. If I’d been able to keep my hands to myself, we wouldn’t be in this predicament now.”

“That’s the part I don’t get. Why not divorce out in the open now that everyone knows—?” He seemed to realize what he’d said. “Oh-ho. I get it. It’s because everyone knows. Because you can’t handle anyone seeing you’re less than perfect.”

His knowing grin got on my last nerve. “Explain to me how I’m supposed to tell the town that I got drunk married to a stranger when they’re counting on me to be the sane, responsible one around here! And I’ve already had this shit from Sheridan today about my recklessness, okay? I don’t need it from you, too.”

Foster hesitated before nodding. “Fine. Then what’s the plan, Way? Because I don’t see how pretending this is some kind of love match makes a whole lotta difference when the end result is the same.”

“I just need to get through roundup and the exhibition race. That’s all. Then we can tell everyone it didn’t work out and go our separate ways.” I swung open the next stall gate and clipped a lead to the mare inside before leading her out.

Foster kept talking. “Meanwhile, what? He’s going to live with you in that tiny shoebox of yours? Where’s he gonna sleep?”

I froze. My brain had been so full of things I hadn’t really stopped to think about the logistics of it. “I… I guess I thought one of us would sleep on the sofa?”

He said what we both knew. “It’s a love seat. Definitely not long enough for either of you.”

I cleared my throat. “We’ll figure it out.”

He got that knowing grin on his face again. “I think it would be best to share the bed, frankly.”

“That’s not happening. And can you mind your own business?” I snapped. “Pastor Kincaid warned me there was a gay agenda. I’m starting to think he was right.”

Foster’s laugh filled the barn, and I couldn’t help chuckling, too. He always did have a way of hassling me into a better mood, even when I strongly resisted.

His eyes sparkled. “Let that man teach you a thing or two, Waylon. Might as well get some fringe benefits while you’re married to him. I know I would.”

I stopped laughing and narrowed my eyes at him. “Stop thinking about fucking my husband.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his duty belt sitting firmly over his narrow hips. “Why don’t you give me one good reason I can’t hook up with him. He’s a beautiful gay man, Way. We don’t get too many of those around here.”

My stomach tumbled uncomfortably. “Because… someone could find out.”

He lifted his chin. “You sure there’s no other reason?”

I stared at him, clamping my teeth together to keep from admitting the truth. But he’d always been able to outlast me in the waiting game.

“Fine!” I cried, throwing my hands up and accidentally startling the mare into hopping sideways. “Fine, do not put your fucking hands on him because he is mine, okay? That make you feel better? The stupid caveman thing?”

His easy grin returned, and he unfolded his arms to rub his hands together in satisfaction. “Sooo much better. Yes it does. It does, indeed.”

I glared at him while I attached the mare’s lead to a hook across the aisle so I could muck her stall.

Foster stepped up and rubbed her nose. “Score one for the Gay Agenda, sweet girl,” he murmured at her. “It truly does take a village, doesn’t it?”

“I hate you,” I called over my shoulder as I started shoveling the shit.

His laughter and the familiar scents and sounds of the barn relaxed me. Foster continued talking to the mare while I cleaned the stall. Memories of all the times we’d spent together on the ranch growing up flitted in and out of my mind while I listened to him coo and tease the horses in nearby stalls. He was a good friend. The best. And I trusted him more than anyone.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” I finally asked as I approached the mare to return her to her stall.

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