Page 18 of His Cowboy Heart

That night when I got home Abigail was sitting at the kitchen counter with her glasses on. The wedding binder lay open in front of her, and she held a glass of white wine.

“You’re late,” she said. “We’re meeting Miguel and Nanthany for dinner.”

“Hey babe,” I said, taking off my tie. “I don’t want to go.”

“We have to go,” she said. “We won’t stay long.”

It wasn’t worth arguing with her and I was too tired to fight. I’d spent most of the afternoon digging into financial records related to the O’Toole family farm. I wasn’t totally certain yet, but I’d found some appraisals that suggested a new mortgage had been opened up in the past year. A copy of the survey had been sent directly to Ben O’Toole, Shea’s brother.

I would do some cross checking with the banks and credit reporting agencies, but where there was smoke, there was usually fire. I had a feeling there was a good chance that Ben had made some financial deals his father wasn’t aware of. I didn’t have the proof yet, but my gut told me the O’Toole property was in trouble. The land Shea loved so much was in Ardent Ventures’ crosshairs, and now I had to tell my fiancé the truth about my past.

Abigail didn’t look up. “Your mother wants surf and turf. I think it’s fine but only if we get a sustainable option, totally organic, and I want locally sourced beef as well. I know it costs more but I am not going to compromise here. We also need a vegetarian option, preferably something that is gluten free.”

“I don’t care what we serve,” I said, closing my eyes. “How was your game today?”

“I didn’t play and yes you do care.”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, but it’s just a wedding. I love you, that is what matters, right? All this other stuff is noise.” I heard the words coming out of my mouth and I felt sincere. I believed in marriage and commitment and I’d committed to Abigail. I wasn’t going to break her heart over some teenage romance or sense of obligation to my ex-girlfriend’s family. I also wasn’t going to let down a friend in need, that’s how I thought of Shea. She was my friend and I needed to help. I could do both without sacrificing my principles.

“Oh my God,” Abigail said, closing her eyes. She reached for her wine glass and spun around on the barstool. “I forgot to tell you the news. My mother needs us in Boston this weekend. She was able to get time at the gallery where they do commission artwork.”

I totally misread her tone thinking she was as annoyed as me at the idea of sitting for a portrait. “For fucks sake. No way. Did you tell her we are not the royal family?”

“Troy,” she said, her annoyance palpable. “That is so rude. My mother pulled in a lot of favors to get us on the list at the gallery. Of course we are going.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking a seat on the barstool beside her. She spun towards me and I brushed a hair off her forehead. I felt desperate and depressed about every aspect of this wedding. I needed to take control.

“Let’s elope. Let’s go this weekend.” My pulse raced as I said the words out loud. I turned and grasped her hands looking into her dark brown eyes. I remembered the first time I saw Abigail on the golf course. She had looked so fierce and sexy. I had fallen in love with her over time. I had to find a way to save us.

“Elope?” she whispered, her eyes wide. “We can’t.”

“Yes we can. We can do whatever we want. This wedding has gotten too complicated. It’s not good for us, Abigail. It’s not good for me. There is so much we need to talk about. I want us to really connect, to focus on each other. Please let’s get out of here. I’ll take a leave of absence and the club would just reschedule your clients.”

“You really want to do this?” she asked, grinning. “Oh my gosh how romantic how beautiful. Oh honey.” She reached for my face, holding it with her hands.

“You will?” I said, my mouth inches from hers. “If you’re in, I’m in. I’ll make some calls. We can get married at the courthouse in Berkshire. I’ll book the bed and breakfast.”

“Not right now,” she said, reaching for my waist and tugging on my belt. “We need to remember what this is about. First, kiss me.”

I pressed my lips against hers exhilarated with the idea that we could escape the trappings of this event. We could survive this.

“If you don’t want the wedding,” she said, her lips hungry against mine. “We can cancel it.” She climbed off the barstool and took my hand pulling me towards the fireplace.

She pushed me down onto the ground straddling me as her hand found my cock.

“You want this?” she asked, stroking me. She wore a tank top and a swirly blue skirt that she hiked up revealing white panties. “Rip them off,” she said, raising her hips.

I grasped the soft cotton and tore them off revealing her pussy. Hips still raised she hovered above me and touched herself moaning softly. “Is this what you want Troy?”

“Yes, I want you. I want you now.”

She reached for my cock and slid it inside her body. Her fingers still rubbing her clit she said, “Then fuck me. Fuck me now.”

“You’ll elope with me,” I gasped.

“As long as we’re together,” she moaned.

“Yes, as long as we’re together.”

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