Chapter 12 – Stevie
We lay next to each other in the cramped guestroom bed, our breathing heavy in the silence. I knew I had to speak before the moment passed and I lost my nerve. I needed to say what was on my mind while Wylie and I were still riding the high of our last ever orgasm together.
I couldn't believe I was about to say these words to Wylie Cameron—or to anyone, for that matter. I never saw myself as the marrying type, having witnessed too much heartbreak to believe in it. Besides, I didn't love Wylie. If I’d ever anticipated making such a life-altering decision, it would be for love—the kind my dad had for my mom. Even though he’d been taken from us too soon, I still remembered them dancing together while doing the dishes late at night, or her letting him lay between her legs on the couch as she rubbed his shoulders after a long day at work. They never went to bed angry and always argued respectfully, reconciling immediately to teach Jovie and I how a marriage could experience disagreements and not fall apart.
Their marriage set an incredible example for Jovie and me, which is why we had such lofty standards for our own relationships. Which was also why I hadn't been in a committed relationship before. I'd never felt that someone could measure up to the standards my dad had given me and of course, Charles presence in my life had prevented any sort of commitment from occurring.
My parents' example and my desire for my own happy-ever-after was only part of why what I was about to do would be so difficult for me to do. I felt like I was letting my parents, my sister, and even myself down.
“I need to say something, and while I'm talking, I need you to be quiet for once in your life.” I said, breaking the silence.
Wylie didn't turn to face me, but I saw his eyes crinkle at the edges in a silent smile. He listened, not saying a word obediently.
There was no way to romanticize what I was about to say—I just needed to rip the band-aid off and get the next twelve months of hell started.
"I'll marry you so you can get Cameron ranch," I blurted out, the words escaping like an uncontrollable reflex. It felt like trying to stifle a drunken urge to vomit, only to have it spill out at the worst possible moment, in this case, a bed lying next to a man I didn't love and who hadn't proposed to me.
He remained silent, a stark departure from the usual loudmouth, Wylie Cameron. My stubbornness urged me to wait him out without meeting his gaze, but the silence became unbearable, and I wanted to see his reaction. Rolling onto my side, I looked at his face only to find him staring blankly at the ceiling, unmoving and unblinking.
I sighed loudly before rolling back over, “I have two conditions if we're going to do this, and I don’t want you to ask me any questions about why these are my conditions. If you ask questions, I’m backing out. Do you understand?”
He turned toward me slowly, our eyes meeting for the first time since our post orgasmic bliss. Confusion, suspicion, maybe even a little bit of doubt lingered behind them.
“What are the conditions, Stevie?”
“We get married loudly. Put it in the papers, online, social media, everywhere that I can think of, we shout to the world that you and I are married. We don't have to have a big wedding, but we'll probably need a photographer so that we can share some images online. We make it look believable enough that it’s a legitimate marriage even though we both will know, and our families will know, that it’s nothing more than a marriage of convenience.”
His eyes narrowed like he wanted to ask why the hell I wanted such an absurd thing when this was a legality only, but I stared back at him with a tight-lipped expression and a squint, silently warning him not to dare ask.
“Okay…” he dragged out the word, biting his tongue.
“The second condition is that when these six months are up, and Nourish Co-op opens, I want to go back to Houston. We can keep living our lives separately and remain married on paper until the ranch is signed over to you officially, but I’m not staying here for an extra six months pretending to be your wife. It’s already going to be hell on earth marrying you and living here over the summer, but I’ll have the non-profit to distract myself with. When Autumn rolls around, I'm out of here.”
His eyes narrowed again like he wanted to protest but he nodded his head instead, “There was nothing in the deed that said we had to co-locate for the full twelve months, so… fine.”
“I don’t think you understand, other than living in the same city for the next six months because I have to in order to open Nourish, co-living, co-fucking, co-anything with you for the next twelve months is completely off the table. I’ll continue to live here on Ashwood ranch, and you can go on and do whatever the hell you want with Cameron ranch until it comes time for Rig to sign the property over to you.”
His eyes narrowed again, and I glared back at him. “That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”
“So, I’m not allowed to ask what changed your mind about marrying me and why you’re willing to do this now? You don’t want any money? Part ownership in the ranch? I feel like I have a right to ask considering we’re going to be married so legally, you would own half of Cameron ranch which is worth millions.”
“I don’t want a thing from you, Wylie Cameron, just the two things I said above and then I’m leaving. You can write up a prenup for all I care.”
He eyed me suspiciously again and then nodded his head, “You got a deal, Bandit.”
“Third condition. Don't call me Bandit.”
He laughed, “That's not part of the deal and the name sticks. My little bad bandit is turning into my bandit bride.”
I groaned before flopping back on to the bed, “why am I already regretting this decision?”
Wylie hopped on to his knees and scooted down between my legs again, “I think I got something in mind to thank you for your little agreement.”
I wanted to tell him no, wanted to say now that this was out there, we needed to stop sleeping together and keep things strictly professional. This was a marriage of convenience, a legality and not one of love, but when Wylie’s hot, flattened tongue slid into my opening again and his rough fingers rubbed on either side of my clit causing the blood to rush between my thighs and my body to zing back to life, I figured, what’s the harm?
"Let me give you one more," he murmured as he hummed against my clit my body instinctively arching into his face.
“Last time, Wylie Cameron, then this goes back to being nothing more than a piece of paper we both signed…” I sighed as his mouth licked me again across my opening.
“Mhm... whatever you say, my bandit bride.”