Chapter 7
Marcus
It had been two days since Dakota’s call, and the trail cams had yet to catch anything but a rogue coyote or two.
Then again, considering the amount of footprints we’d left behind in the mud, whoever had been hanging out there probably knew they’d been found out.
And if I was lucky, that would be the last thing I ever heard about it.
But that wasn’t what had been on my mind for the past two days.
In truth, all I could think about was Xavier.
And the fact that he now knew too much about me.
I’d been so flustered in the moment that I didn’t realize how much I was giving away.
Not that he ever stopped probing long enough to give me a chance to breathe.
The guy was annoying. Cute as fuck, but annoying. As far as I was concerned, we didn’t need to spend any more time together.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Because at that exact moment, my office door swung open and Xavier Hart waltzed in like he owned the place, wearing what I could only describe as the tightest jeans known to mankind and a crop top that said “Slut” in glittery letters.
My eyes immediately dipped to his perfectly smooth, toned stomach.
His jeans were extremely low cut, but there wasn’t a hair to be seen. My mouth watered.
Did… Did this guy wax his entire body?
“Sheriff Webb,” he announced, plopping himself down in the chair across from my desk without invitation. “You need to come with me.”
I stared at him, my brain short-circuiting for a moment before I could form words. “How did you get past Mrs. Baxter?”
“I told her I was here on official wedding business,” he said with a grin that was entirely too pleased with itself. “She practically shoved me through the door. Apparently, she’s very invested in Lucas and Beau’s big day.”
Of course she was. Mrs. Baxter had been talking about that wedding nonstop for weeks. I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. “What do you want, Xavier?”
“I need you to come with me,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on my desk. The movement made his crop top ride up even higher, exposing more of his tanned, smooth stomach. I forced myself to look at his face instead. “To get fitted for your suit.”
“Suit? What suit?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“The one you’ll be wearing when you officiate the wedding,” he replied. “Because you aren’t wearing…” He gestured to all of me. “That.”
“I have a suit.”
“When’s the last time you wore it?”
“I don’t know… maybe prom?” I shrugged. “I’m sure it still fits.”
“You had all these muscles in high school too?” Xavier’s gaze raked over my body. “I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off you.”
I felt heat crawl up my neck at his words, and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “Xavier—”
“Relax, Sheriff. I’m just stating facts.
” He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other in a way that should’ve been illegal in jeans that tight.
“But seriously, you need a proper suit. This is going to be photographed, videoed, and posted all over social media. You can’t show up looking like you’re about to serve someone a warrant. ”
“I haven’t even agreed to officiate yet,” I pointed out, trying to regain some control of this conversation, though my body was a different matter. My jeans were growing uncomfortably tight with all the skin he was showing.
“But you will.” He said it with such certainty that it annoyed me. “Because you’re a good man who cares about his friends, and Beau asked you personally. You’re not going to let him down.”
Damn it. He was right, and we both knew it. I’d been wrestling with the decision for over a week now, but deep down, I’d already made up my mind. I was going to do it. I just hadn’t found the courage to admit it yet.
“Fine,” I muttered. “But I’m not wearing anything ridiculous.”
“Define ridiculous.” Xavier’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
“No sequins, no mesh, no crop tops—”
“You’d look amazing in a crop top with these abs.” He gestured toward my stomach like he could see through my uniform shirt. “But fine, we’ll keep it traditional. Classic black tux, maybe a nice navy if you’re feeling adventurous.”
“Black is fine,” I said quickly, before he could suggest something that involved the word ‘adventurous’ and my wardrobe in the same sentence.
“Perfect. The tailor is already at the ranch and expecting us in half an hour.” He stood up, smoothing down his crop top. “So, let’s go.”
“Half an hour? You made an appointment without even asking me first?”
“I knew you’d say yes.” He flashed me that infuriating grin again. “Call it intuition.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him he couldn’t just waltz into my office and commandeer my afternoon. But Mrs. Baxter chose that moment to poke her head through the door.
“Sheriff, don’t forget you’re free this afternoon,” she said cheerfully. “I already moved your meetings around when Xavier mentioned he needed you.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “You what?”
“Oh, don’t give me that look. This wedding is important, and you need to look presentable.” She smiled at Xavier. “Thank you for taking care of this, dear. The sheriff never thinks about these things. He’d come to work in a stained t-shirt if I let him.”
“Happy to help,” Xavier said, shooting me a triumphant look.
I was being ambushed by my own secretary. This was a new low.
“Fine,” I said, grabbing my keys and hat. “But we’re taking my truck.”
“Your truck?” Xavier looked horrified. “I saw that thing. It’s covered in mud and probably smells like wet dog.”
“It does not smell like wet dog,” I said defensively, though I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d cleaned the interior. “And it’s a work vehicle. It’s supposed to get dirty.”
“I’ll drive,” Xavier said, already heading for the door. “My rental is clean, comfortable, and doesn’t have suspicious stains on the seats.”
“Those aren’t suspicious, they’re coffee—” I started, but he was already out the door, leaving me to follow like some kind of obedient puppy.
Dammit his ass looked amazing. And he had those little dimples in his lower back where my thumbs would slot perfectly. I could almost picture how good it would feel to be buried face first between his cheeks…
No. Stop it.
Mrs. Baxter gave me an encouraging smile as I passed her desk. “Have fun, Sheriff. And don’t let him bully you into anything too fancy.”
Too late for that, I thought grimly as I followed Xavier out to his rental SUV. He was already in the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and humming something that sounded vaguely like The King and I.
I climbed into the passenger seat, immediately noticing how clean everything was. It smelled like that expensive cologne of his, citrus and something else I couldn’t identify but made my head swim in a way that was far too pleasant.
“Seatbelt,” Xavier said without looking at me, starting the engine. “Don’t want to get pulled over.”
“I know I need to wear a seatbelt,” I muttered, but I buckled up anyway.
He pulled out of the parking lot with the kind of confidence that told me he’d gotten comfortable driving these country roads despite his earlier complaints.
We headed toward the Turner Ranch, and I found myself hyper-aware of every movement he made.
The way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the way his jaw worked when he was concentrating, the way that damn crop top kept riding up every time he shifted gears.
“So,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “When were you planning on telling Beau you’d officiate?”
“I don’t know. Soon.” I stared out the window at the passing landscape, trying to focus on anything other than the man beside me.
“You’re scared,” Xavier said, and it wasn’t a question.
“I’m not scared,” I lied.
“Yes, you are.” He glanced over at me, and I could feel the weight of his gaze even though I wasn’t looking at him. “You’re scared of what people will think. Of what it means for you to stand up there and marry two men in front of the whole town.”
I didn’t respond. What could I say? He was right, and we both knew it. I just hated that he already had me figured out. He was far too observant for his own good.
“For what it’s worth,” Xavier continued, his voice softer now, “I think it’s brave. What you’re doing.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“But you will.” He turned his attention back to the road. “And when you do, it’s going to mean something. Not just to Lucas and Beau, but to a lot of other people too.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to think about it. My daddy was probably rolling in his grave. The last thing he ever wanted was a queer for a son.
When we arrived at the ranch, Xavier hopped out of the car and beckoned me inside.
We said a quick hello to Mabel before he ushered me into one of the small bedrooms and closed the door.
There was a suit laid out on the bed already, a sewing machine on the small table in the corner, and a full-length mirror standing against the wall.
“Uh…” I said, looking around the room. “Where’s the tailor?”
Xavier flashed me a mischievous smile. “Oh? Didn’t I tell you? I’m the tailor.”
I stared at him, my brain trying to process what he’d just said. “You’re the tailor?”
“Surprised?” Xavier moved toward the bed, running his fingers over the fabric of the suit.
“I didn’t spend all those years in New York just planning weddings.
I had to learn every aspect of the business, including alterations and basic tailoring.
Can’t always rely on outside vendors when you’re working with celebrities who change their minds at the last second. ”
“But you said there was a tailor at the ranch—”
“I said the tailor was expecting us. I never said it wasn’t me.” He picked up a measuring tape from the bed and turned to face me, that infuriating grin still plastered on his face. “Now take off your shirt.”
My hand instinctively went to the top button of my uniform shirt, then froze. “What?”