Page 3 of One Night Bride
“Now you’re talking. Look for the twelve-incher,” Vee said in a husky voice that made me want to giggle again.
I tilted my head to the side, just seeing the lights of the airport up ahead. “Twelve might be pushing it. I want all my inner organs to stay in place.”
Vee slammed to a stop at the curb outside my terminal. “Don’t knock it ’til you ride it.”
I gave her a hug and climbed out of the car to grab my suitcase. A guy pulling in a drag on his cigarette outside the sliding doors to the airport nearly choked when I flashed him. Oops. A flair of boldness at his reaction creeped up my spine and I strutted my way into the terminal, suitcase rolling behind me. I just needed to flash a little vag and see what happened.
Maybe Vee was right.
I should find a twelve-incher to scratch the itch.
2
Remington
I nodded my thanks to Wayne, the pilot I’d had with me for as long as I could remember. He’d flown my father around whenever he needed to get somewhere, and when I purchased my first jet for the ranch, he’d been the guy I called to pilot the thing.
“I’ll head out Sunday, the time depending on if I’m still looking at properties,” I informed him, checking my watch and seeing that we’d landed ten minutes early. The runway was quiet this time of the morning, but I knew by late afternoon there’d be jets flying in and out, depositing the rich and not-so-famous for a weekend at the big blue lake.
He nodded his gray head. “I’ll be waiting for your call, sir.”
That stopped me in my tracks. “You don’t have to sir me, Wayne. You’ve known me since I was still wetting the bed.”
He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “When you quit paying my bills, I’ll call you Remington.”
I grinned at that. “Fair enough.”
The wheels on my overnight bag made a racket on the blacktop as I walked toward the tiny private terminal. Even though I was early, if she excelled at her job, I’d find the realtor waiting for me who I’d hired over the phone two weeks ago. Wayne would have delivered my bag for me, but I was a grown man who was capable of lifting my own shit. God help me if I ever got so full of myself to let an older man carry my bag.
A black woman in her late forties with dark hair and a bright red suit waved in my direction as soon as I stepped inside the terminal.
“Mr. Roth?” she asked, approaching with her hand extended.
I shook it and nodded. “Ms. Williams. Lovely to meet you.”
She fell into step beside me, her low heels clacking on the tile floor. “You as well. I have a car waiting at the curb and at least five listings if you’re up for it.”
I sent her a smile, feeling like I was finally taking the steps necessary to realize my dreams. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Ms. Williams.”
She wiggled her shoulders when she laughed. “I already knew that when I saw your boots caked with mud, despite showing up on a private jet. Let’s find you your dream house, shall we?”
We took a quick detour to drop my bag off at the boutique hotel I’d booked for the weekend. The views just from the lobby were incredible. Lake Tahoe stretched out into the distance, the water a deeper blue than a sapphire. Dark green pine trees and gray rock jutted out along the rim, making for a picture-perfect postcard. My home state of Wyoming was beautiful too, but Lake Tahoe was something else entirely.
“Think you can find me something with this kind of view?” I asked the realtor who’d stepped to the side while I checked in. The key to my room went in my pocket and I gestured to the car waiting outside.
Her eyes twinkled. “Of course I can. Just depends on how far you’re willing to stretch that budget.”
I shook my head, but shot her a grin. “Isn’t that always the case?”
Her laugh tinkled through the lobby before I grabbed the door for her so she could step back outside. The driver she hired took us around to a few homes along the perimeter of the lake, sticking toward the north side like I’d requested. The first two homes were nice, but neither hit me as what I was looking for. I was a big believer in moving forward with things that felt right. If something felt off in my gut, I backed off.
“Okay, here’s home number three.” Ms. Williams unlocked the front door to a house right on the lake that had been completely remodeled two years prior.
The second I stepped inside, I knew this one would work for me. My phone buzzed, and I looked at the screen.
“Pardon me. I need to get this.” I answered, seeing Ms. Williams venture off into another part of the home while I sat on the staged couch in the sunken living room and looked out the floor-to-ceiling window.
“Yo, Rem. It’s Ruger. Dad just got a call from that new feed store saying we didn’t pay our invoice?” My brother’s voice came through the phone, along with the bleat of a heifer or two.
