Page 6 of Aisle Be The Groom
“Thank you.” I entered, and he followed and stood close. Close enough I smelled the light musk of sweat from his body mingling with a woodsy cologne. The scent was much subtler than the cloud of citrusy mix Carter doused himself in. I tightened my hand on the handle of my carry-on and looked straight ahead, my posture tense.
“Are you okay with heights?” Mr. Magnuson asked as the elevator ascended.
“Yeah. I’m just not a fan of small, crowded spaces,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He nodded. “I get that. Wide-open spaces are more my thing too.”
At least he doesn’t seem to hate me anymore.
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out into the parking lot. I took a deep breath, the tension easing a bit. Mr. Magnuson led the way to a large, black, well-kept pickup that was clean, though it showed signs of wear in the paint job.
“I’ll load the suitcases into the truck.” He disengaged the alarm and opened the passenger door for me. It wouldn’t do to get used to this sort of treatment at all.
He waited patiently until I had a proper hold on the raised step and hoisted myself up. I plunked down on the soft leather seat, and he closed the door. With shaking hands, I locked my seat belt while he loaded the suitcases into the back. I sneaked a peek in the rearview mirror. He effortlessly picked up the luggage, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt.
“Would you like to stop anywhere on the way?” Mr. Magnuson asked when he settled down behind the steering wheel. “It’ll take us close to two hours to get to the ranch.”
“We’re not stopping at your wife’s place?”
“My wife? Why would we stop there?”
He seemed genuinely confused by my question. Mrs. Magnuson was a frigid woman who I’d overheard telling Carter I wasn’t quite right for him. I’d never been able to shake her words and wasn’t keen on visiting her.
“Oh, nothing. I just thought since we were in Denver and she lives here, you would want to say hello.”
He didn’t comment but started the engine, which also brought the radio to life. “And you don’t need me to stop so you can get something to eat?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.”
“Okay, then, seems like it’ll just be the two of us again. Much like it was last Christmas, right?”
“I guess. If it’s a problem, I can always find a bed-and-breakfast in the town and stay there until Carter arrives.”
“Why would you do that? What kind of father-in-law would I be?”
I chuckled uneasily. “We don’t know each other well. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Relax, Ozzie. I’m a blunt man. If I’m uncomfortable, you bet your sweet ass I’d let you know.”
My mouth fell open, and my ability to speak vanished. Sweet ass? Was it just an expression, or did he mean…?
Of course it’s just an expression. Your ass is huge, not sweet.
The radio prevented the silence from becoming awkward. He turned up the volume, effectively cutting off all attempts at a conversation. Why did he seem so distant suddenly? He knew I didn’t take his comment personally, didn’t he?
Sinking back into the seat, I closed my eyes. Maybe pretending to be asleep was for the best.
2
GRAY
The Ford rumbled under us as I steered it down the highway, the scent of leather filling the cab. Next to me, Ozzie sat with a puzzle book long forgotten on his lap. He stared out the window with rapt fascination, although there was nothing much to see except endless stretches of sparsely populated rangeland. We’d left Denver behind long ago, and the rest of the journey to Bristlecone Springs should have been uninspiring for someone who lived in the big city.
Occasionally, a farmhouse or a spike of cacti popped up, breaking the monotony of the scenery. Ozzie, however, seemed to find something captivating in the simplicity of it all. Perhaps it was the way the light played over the landscape or the sense of freedom that came with being on the open road.
Whatever it was, he seemed to have forgotten that for one inappropriate minute, I’d complimented his ass. The comment had been pure reflex and meant absolutely nothing. Still, it had taken me by surprise, so what must he think of me?
Thankfully, the second I turned on the truck, the radio blasted a Willie Nelson song that put the possibility of conversationbetween us to bed. I welcomed the song to distract me from the uncomfortable silence that had followed my bizarre comment.
