Page 12 of Tactically Tied

Jed took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. Jami’s mouth went dry. Her fingers did curl, but they gripped the strap of her purse tightly. She hadn't been prepared for this. Jed Winchester had a way of making her forget everything, every plan, every thought that made sense. And now, standing there, looking like he was about to either ruin her day by starting a war or swoop in like a hero and save her from herself, she had no idea what to say.

“I... I’m meeting someone,” she stammered, trying to pull herself together. “Ryan. He’s supposed to?—”

“Ryan’s not coming.”

“What do you mean, he’s not coming?”

Jed didn’t answer right away. His gaze went hard, unyielding. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Because I made sure of it.”

He stood so close, his presence looming, filling the empty courthouse hallway like he belonged there. Like he had been waiting for this moment all along.

"I paid off his debt," he said simply. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. "You're not marrying a man with a gambling problem."

"It's none of your business."

But Jed went on as though he didn't hear her. "You think he won't ruin your credit and put you in debt? You think I'd let you marry a man like that?"

"Let me? You don’t get to decide who I marry."

“I’m not deciding anything. I’m giving you a better option.” Jed moved her to a corner and boxed her in. “You want your inheritance? I’ve got a way for you to get it—without Ryan, without any of that mess. You and me.”

“You and me? What are you talking about?”

Every word that passed his lips was slow and deliberate. “We get married. You get your inheritance. I don’t need your money, but I do need a partner for a couple's reality show.”

Jami stared at him, the words not quite sinking in. “Wait. What?”

“I need someone to compete with me in a culinary reality show. It’s a couples' competition. You become my wife and keep your money. I get my shot at winning the show. The show will boost your reputation in the food world. You’ll be everywhere. People will know your name.”

Jami's brain tried to catch up with everything he was saying. It sounded... insane. It sounded impossible. At the same time, it made sense in a way that made her chest tighten with something dangerously possessive. Possessive for Jed Winchester.

This wasn’t about love. This was about business, just like it had been with Ryan. But this—this felt different.

So much different.

Before she could say another word, the door to the clerk’s office swung open. A woman with a clipboard stepped out, looking down at the papers in her hand. "Who’s here to get married?" she asked, her voice cheerful, oblivious to the storm brewing in the hallway.

Jed's dark eyes ignored the woman. They watched Jami. The quiet went silent again. Watching, waiting for the next boom.

What was she doing? What had she gotten herself into?

The clerk's pen tapped against her clipboard. She looked between Jami and Jed, waiting for an answer. Jami’s breath came quicker, her thoughts racing, her heart in her throat.

But as she met Jed’s eyes, something flickered inside her. A spark. A pull she’d been fighting for years. And for just a moment, it felt like maybe—just maybe—this was the right thing to do. She let out a breath in the silence. That breath sounded like an explosion to rival the finale of a Fourth of July fireworks display.

CHAPTERSEVEN

The collar of Jed's military dress uniform was snug against his neck. It still fit him perfectly, every line and seam tailored to precision, just as it had been the last time he’d worn it. Despite countless hours spent in the kitchen and in front of cameras as a Tasty TV reality star, Jed had never let himself slack. His military training and exercise regimen had stayed with him, a discipline that kept his body sharp and his mind sharper.

To his left, the owner of the local hardware store leaned against the wall, his rough jeans smeared with grease and dust. He wore a frayed flannel shirt over his broad shoulders, the fabric worn thin at the elbows from years of hard work. He shifted from foot to foot, clearly impatient to renew his business license and get back to the store, where early-morning customers would be waiting for their supplies.

A few feet away, a man stood decked out in full camouflage gear, his orange cap pulled low over his eyes. He was here for his annual hunting license, no doubt gearing up for the fall season. His boots were caked in mud, and the smell of gun oil clung to him like a second skin.

Across the room, a harried mom tried to juggle a toddler on her hip while another child tugged at the hem of her faded sundress. Her face was drawn with exhaustion as she balanced a parking ticket in one hand and a juice box in the other. The fabric of her dress was threadbare, and her sandals were scuffed, likely from chasing after her kids on the town’s cracked sidewalks. She shushed the toddler, trying to keep some semblance of order as she waited for her turn at the counter, her tired eyes darting between her restless children.

Jed tugged at the collar again, wondering if he should've worn a casual business suit for this. His father and grandfather had both been married in theirs. The pictures over the fireplace displayed the evidence. Their medals had gleamed under the sun during their big, traditional weddings. They'd invited everyone they knew—half the town had shown up to each. But Jed's wasn’t like those weddings.

This was a stealth mission.

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