Chapter 7 – Stevie
“What?” I stammered.
Wylie smiled and ducked under the innertube then reemerged pulling himself up on to the raft I was laying on, causing me to almost tip into the cool, pool water.
“What the hell?” I demanded as I gripped on tightly while he struggled to drag his heavy body on to the float next to mine. “Did you need to be on the float for us to have this conversation?”
He shrugged. “Figured it be funnier to see your reaction up close.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why did Rig say you had to get married in order to inherit Cameron ranch?”
“Something some great-great-grandparent or some shit put into the deed for Cameron ranch hundreds of years ago as a stipulation for inheriting it.”
“They can do that?”
He nodded, “I saw the paperwork. Unfortunately, they can.”
“Damn, that sucks for you.”
“No shit.”
We swayed back and forth on the float as the sun's morning rays grew more intense. It made sense now why Wylie had snapped last night. I finally turned to him and asked, "So, how do you plan on finding someone to marry you?"”
“Oh, I don't know. Walk into any bar anywhere in Texas and ask the first pretty woman I find. It can’t be that hard.”
I snorted, “Wylie, who in their right mind would want to marry you in less than three months?”
His tough facade faltered for just a moment at my comment, and for a second, I felt a pang of guilt. Then he quickly regained his composure, the armor he always wore snapping back into place. "I've got prospects," he replied.
I snorted again.
“What? You think you could easily find someone to marry you in less than three months if you had to as part of some stupid legal requirement?” he shot back.
Without hesitating I responded, “Without a doubt.”
“Yea, ok.”
“I could literally call five guys right now who’d marry me if I told them I needed them to on paper only for twelve months because of a contract.”
He flopped back on the raft and looked up at the sun. “I might be screwed.”
“You think?” I teased.
“Women take this marriage shit way too seriously. Any woman I talk to is going to see this as wasting their first marriage on a favor to me. I can't offer them anything to make it worth their while. I can’t think of anyone who would see it for what it is—a transaction, a marriage of convenience.”
I shrugged, “You gotta find something that’s valuable enough to entice a woman to agree.”
He sat up quickly, gesturing towards his crotch. He hadn’t put on swim trunks since he’d fallen asleep outside and was currently wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. His noticeable bulge dangled between his legs as it pressed through the pool-soaked fabric. I didn't need the reminder of how big Wylie was, I'd seen it with my own eyes only a few months ago, but that didn't mean I didn't take the opportunity to shamelessly stare at the behemoth lying dormant next to me.
“Oh, give me a break,” I responded though I knew my cheeks were flushed, “even if you enticed them with the prospect of some hot sex for twelve months, that’s not enough for someone to marry you.”
“I’m an orgasm-god. You’re telling me you wouldn’t marry someone for twelve months to have a guaranteed orgasm every day?”
“My vibrator can do the same thing.”
He growled and mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, ' not the way I did it for you five months ago.'
“That sounds a lot like you propositioning me for a marriage,” I responded.
“Would it be the worst thing in the world? You’re already going to be here for six of the twelve months working on setting up the co-op for Jovie. We'd just have to stay married for six more and then I’d officially get the ranch and we could split.”
Now I was pissed. The nerve to think I’d marry him as a favor when he hadn’t done a damn thing for me except belittle me and question my intentions. Just a few days ago he’d questioned whether I was even capable of making sacrifices when it came to my family.
“You’re insane." I chuckled, "We can barely stand to be around one another. Why would I marry you?”
“It’s a marriage of convenience, not a marriage for love." He retorted.
“Yea, helluva lot convenient for you. You get a ranch worth multiple millions of dollars at the end of it and the opportunity to continue your family's legacy as the oldest child managing it. What the hell do I get except a headache and pain of an ass ex-husband?”
“I’d be your husband on paper only. It wouldn’t be legitimate.”
“I get that!” I snapped back.
“You’d get the orgasm-god.” He deadpanned with a face so straight I considered laughing directly in it.
“I’ve had better.” I responded as I flipped off the raft and submerged under the water, desperate to put some space between us. When I reemerged next to the float, Wylie was scowling down at me.
“Would you like me to remind you of the ways your pussy likes being wrapped tightly around my cock? The way you purr in my hands when I stroke your cunt?” he murmured, his voice was so low and raspy I was glad I was in the water to cool off from the heat that immediately flooded my body.
Regardless of what I had imagined when I moved down to Lonestar Junction temporarily—some heated fucking with Wylie, maybe even a few fun drunk nights—everything changed ten minutes ago when I found out he needed someone to marry to keep his beloved ranch. Any notion of romance or flirtation was off the table, even if my legs trembled under the pool water thinking about how wet I was.
I rubbed my chin pensively for extra theatrics, "Now that I think about it, Nash inheriting the ranch works in my favor. My sister gets another multiple thousand-acre ranch for nothing because you can't find someone willing to marry you." I laughed, "Good luck, Wylie."
I swam to the edge of the pool and hoisted myself up over the ledge. Walking over to the pool chair, I grabbed my towel, and wrapped it tightly around my body before swiping the baseball cap that Wylie had been wearing and pushing it down over my wet hair.
“And I’m taking this for the road,” I called out to Wylie who was still smiling at me his hands placed behind his head in a relaxed posture, that thick meaty cock still on display as he rested on the raft.
“There’s my little Bandit. You keep stealing my shit, soon, I’ll be stealing your heart.” He shouted out after me as I slid open the living room door.
“Please stop, Wylie. You’re embarrassing yourself.” I shouted back before flicking him off and slamming the sliding door shut.