Page 23 of A Package Deal

Warrick

“Hey, Mom, how’s the ship treating you?” The background noise was intense, which was odd, considering it was eight in the morning.

“Good!” Mom shouted back. “I’m in the middle of strip bocce ball, Warrick, honey. Was there something you needed?”

“What?” I exploded out of my chair, running a hand through my hair. “You’re supposed to be resting and rejuvenating, Mom!”

“This is rejuvenating!”

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the mental image before it rotted my brain. Fucking hell. Leave it to Mom’s sisters to get her into something she should have left behind forty years ago.

“Let me speak to Aunt Gwen.” Maybe the next oldest among them might have some goddamn sense.

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend that.” Mom paused, then let out a giggle that reminded me of a little girl. “She’s losing right now.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, pacing the halfway-remodeled kitchen. “Okay, I’ll cut right to the point. I wanted to warn you that I’m doing something crazy today, but I promise you’ll be proud of my intentions.”

A whoop loud enough to shatter dolphin eardrums for miles in each direction sounded. I pulled the phone away from my ear and almost missed Mom’s response.

“Oh, honey, I’m always proud of you. I just hope this something crazy isn’t taking Bessie in to be slaughtered. She’s a milking cow, Warrick. You just have to sweet-talk her before you lay hands on her. Finesse her, baby. Just like a good woman.”

“I’ve got the milking figured out, Mom.” The last thing I wanted was dating advice from my mother. I leaned a hip against the countertop. There was no finessing that heifer. Pip would simply have to keep milking Bessie and I’d pay her extra for the service. What Mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

“Well, I’m so excited to see the changes on the house! I told Gwen and Gemma all about what you’re doing for me.” The line was interrupted by scraping noises and then Mom was back. “I gotta go, honey. I’m next and that bastard Herold thinks he’s going to get flashed. I’ve got news for him. I can handle my balls.”

“Okay!” I tried to interrupt, not wishing for any further information about Herold or balls or strip anything. “Talk later, Mom.”

“Bye, honey! Give me that ball, Herold, or I’ll misplace your dentures and then how will you eat the meatloaf tonight, huh?”

I shook my head and hung up, knowing Mom had yet again forgotten to do it on her end. It was a wonder my brothers and I had grown up so normal. Though when you grow up on a hobby farm with the kind of parents we had, that probably explained why all three of us spread our wings and left town as soon as possible. Our parents loved us, that I never doubted, but they were definitely odd.

As much as I didn’t approve of the stripping portion of the cruise Mom was on, I didn’t want to steal her joy. She hadn’t laughed much the last few years as Dad declined. She was due some levity. Which was why I didn’t tell her exactly what I was doing today. I didn’t want her to worry, especially when I had everything handled. She’d find that out in ten days when she returned from the cruise. News of my sudden nuptials could wait.

I’d spent all day yesterday making plans while Em and Pip worked on the house. My lawyer had also been working, drafting a prenuptial agreement that protected my assets, but also protected Em. When I placed it in front of her at the end of the day, she didn’t even blink. She read through it, which made me admire her even more. No good business owner worth their salt would blindly sign a contract without looking through it. I even offered to pay for another lawyer’s time if she wanted to consult with someone, but she waved that idea away and signed it.

She muttered something about her daughter being the only thing of value she had anyway. Which just about broke my heart. And firmed up my resolve to marry this woman and fight like hell to keep Georgia with her mother.

I straightened my tie and tried not to cringe at the stifling feel of a full suit in the late summer heat. I’d already gotten used to wearing jeans every day since retirement. However, with a nod to my new life here in Blueball, I kept the snakeskin boots.

The door opened and Em met my gaze for a split second before stepping back. I slipped inside her house to see everything in boxes. She was also not wearing the dress I’d had couriered to her house last night. Instead, she wore a clean pair of jeans, work boots, and an M Builds T-shirt. I frowned.

“Where’s the dress?”

“I dropped off Georgia.”

We spoke at the same time. Then Em frowned. “It’s too much.”

I took a step closer to her, admiring the way she’d at least swiped on lip gloss and some mascara today, making her blue eyes look as large as a doll’s. I tried not to acknowledge the hurt that she intended to show up to our sham wedding in work clothes. Yes, it was a marriage backed by a business contract, but she’d still be my wife.

And my wife wasn’t going to wear fucking jeans to our wedding.

“Slaywright?”

She swallowed, tipping her head back to hold my gaze. Her long blonde hair was down. I’d only seen it up in a ponytail before. My fingers itched to reach out and wrap those silky strands around my fist.

“What?” she snapped, the fire in her tone dampened by the wobble in her voice.

I reached between us and pinched the T-shirt material right at her shoulder. “You look beautiful today.”

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