Chapter Nine
Married. Done. Fast. Simple. Ayana felt a little breathless at the speed and finality, even though she reminded herself she had an out. Six months. And a deposit that was hers no matter what if she had to run.
She had the paperwork now, so she could change her name.
He’d been surprised that she was taking Crow as her new surname, especially as she’d insisted on a six-month out-clause.
But it was one more roadblock to finding her—not that she’d been seen as all that valuable.
She was considered damaged goods. And at twenty-five maybe too old to be desirable. Medieval idiots.
“Is your coat warm enough?” Telford’s question startled her back into the present where they stood in front of the courthouse as if not sure what to do next.
“I’m fine.”
“Take my scarf,” he said, taking the charcoal cashmere scarf and draping it around her and then wrapping the ends loosely around her neck so the ends fell to her shoulders.
It was a casual action, but the tenderness rendered her speechless. When was the last time someone had taken care of her? Ridiculously she blinked back tears. This was not a big deal. But it felt monumental. Women took care of men and children in the Family. Not men.
Stop remembering.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling overexposed. To give herself a moment, she looked at the weave of the scarf.
“Thinking of making me a present now that we’re married?”
“All your things are much more elegant than what I can do,” she said, already thinking of the color and gauge and type of yarn she’d choose to make him something.
“Cam had a personal shopper and tailor and dragged me along, so your advice and gifts are welcome,” he said scanning the nearly empty street. “I haven’t had to think about it, and I stupidly brought six suits with me to small-town Montana. Habit. Dumb. I’ll stick out.”
“I usually hit thrift stores and make things, but I did see a western wear store in town, and I’ve been frequently informed that I freely share my opinions.”
The Family shut down women’s opinions, but she’d still had them.
The sun had slipped behind the mountains, bathing Main Street in a gray twilight. The leaves on the trees were already bare, and a stiff chilly wind howled down from the mountains.
“We should celebrate our new partnership,” he said after another long beat, and Ayana wondered if he was trying on a new role of host or if he thought they should celebrate their new roles and partnership.
A sense of dislocation settled around her. They hadn’t really discussed how to act with each other though he had thought of many contingencies—money and legalities—even before the lawyers got involved.
“There are quite a few restaurants in town. I doubt at this time of year and this early we’d need a reservation.” He began to scroll through his phone.
“We have the champagne in the room,” she said, not feeling up to facing the public yet.
Wife was a role. She needed to get a feel for it.
“We do.” He spoke cautiously, which made her think about being alone in the room with him. He’d said being intimate was her choice. She wasn’t worried about that. Much.
She drew in a deep breath through her nose and smiled—her practiced, welcome smile—and laid her hand lightly on the sleeve of his suit coat.
“I’m surprised to admit this, but I need a moment,” she said, partially honest. “I feel overwhelmed.”
“Okay.” He froze but still looked poised for action.
What did he think—she was going to faint? Hyperventilate? Change her mind?
“I’m not freaking out. I’m not high maintenance.
I just want to relax, wrap my head around everything.
Get our story in line. We could go back to the room.
Have some bubbles and then decide—room service or a meal in the hotel.
They have an elegant restaurant, but the pub and bar feel more my style. ”
“Of course.”
“That might be the first husband rule, judging by what I’ve heard women or men say on the cruise.” She tried to backpedal a bit in case he was worried she was a head case.
The hint of his smile bloomed warmth in her tummy. She grinned, and they turned to the right to walk through the pretty park with the lights strung through the massive old oak trees that had already started losing their leaves and headed to the Graff Hotel.
“Maybe we could take a moment over dinner to discuss … what the next couple of weeks might look like. I know you want to start looking for property …” She paused—more excited about a property hunt than she’d let on.
Imagine looking at ranches worth tens of millions. It was something out of the show Yellowstone. Or a reality show.
“And maybe you can think about whether you want to meet your family. You’ve couched the marriage as a job, so I want to know your expectations so I can back you up.”
He stopped walking over the slightly spongy grass.
“I …” He sighed. “You’re right. We should take time to ourselves to … get to know one another.”
She laughed. “You look like you’re off to a dentist appointment.”
“That would be easier. I am accustomed to thinking everything through, and while I believe you will be a tremendous asset to me navigating a small town in a more rural environment, and you will definitely ease the way if I decide to meet my biological family as well as helping me to brainstorm a legacy for Cam, I don’t think of it as a job.
” He looked away and then back at her. “I was never the social one. I never cultivated friends like Cam did. I had business contacts. Transactional. This”—he waved his hand out with a slash—“is new to me, and I am bound to make mistakes. Be prickly. Aloof, and I want to get that out there, so you don’t think it’s personal. ”
Relief swooshed through her. He was shy. Socially awkward, but self-aware and kind.
I can work with that.
She tucked her arm through his. “We’ll start with that,” she said, “and see where it takes us.”
Briefly overwhelmed by an emotion she couldn’t quite name, she tilted her head back to look at the beginnings of stars in the sky, and then the lights in the trees winked on, casting a warm glow over them as they traversed the spacious park.
“Now that’s a sign,” she whispered.
*
“Wait.” He stopped. “We should take a picture.”
It wasn’t something he often did. Cam had documented the moments. He’d cringed.
“I don’t post anything except my projects on my Etsy site,” she said quickly.
He heard the slick of panic. Definitely hiding something.
“I don’t do social media. I just … is it dumb to document our marriage?”
“No.” Her voice softened, and her grip on his arm loosened. “It will be nice to have a few photos—for us.”
Were they an us? He’d been an us with his mom and his grandpa. An us with Cam and their businesses.
“I’ll do it. My arms are longer.”
“You haven’t taken a selfie in your life,” she teased, more on the mark than she probably realized, and she pulled her phone out of some secret place in her boot.
“That’s like abracadabra.” She continued to astonish him in a multitude of ways.
She grinned, pressed against him, and angled them into several shots.
“Got it.” She kissed his cheek, took another photo then tucked her phone away.
He felt oddly calm as they continued their stroll to the Graff Hotel. He’d expected to feel off-center but instead felt invigorated. Cam’s death no longer paralyzed him. He was determined to build meaning from the tragedy.
And he didn’t feel like he was taking advantage of Ayana. This was an opportunity for her as well. She’d lost her job and apartment. She’d have security for a year and well beyond with some financial planning, and he’d be happy to advise her.
He looked at Ayana matching his long strides beside him. She had a lovely profile. Great bones. But she’d need a warm winter hat. And a winter coat. They’d take care of that tomorrow morning. Tonight would be for them. To talk about … whatever.
He paused. She stumbled a little.
“What?”
“I just realized I don’t really have an agenda for tonight or any night. What do couples do?” He stared at her.
He usually retreated into work at night. Would she crochet more of the vests with a few of those flowers with beads?
And we’re not really a couple.
But they were now. How long would it take before the reality was nailed down?
“We’ll work it out as we bump along, together.”
She seemed unconcerned. They jogged up the stairs, just as a few snowflakes started to swirl around them.
Ayana smiled and then spun in a circle at the top of the stairs though a doorman had swung open the door for them. She spread her arms wide, hands bare as if she could catch the elusive flakes that melted on contact.
“It’s beautiful.”
“First dusting of the season, miss,” the doorman said, smiling, clearly charmed by the tourist who was soon going to be soggy, wet, and cold, but he made no move to close the door.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“This one won’t stick,” the doorman said.
“But depending on how long you’re a guest at the Graff, there’s another dusting of snow predicted next week, though predicting the weather seems to never be better than fifty-fifty around here.
With the mountains, the valley residents practically have their own weather gambling league. ”
“What are the stakes?” Ayana’s eyes shone like a top-shelf bourbon placed before a fire. “I might need to get in on that action.”
The doorman laughed, but Telford wasn’t sure she was joking. She’d said she’d been a dealer on the riverboat cruises. A poker face was another plus.
“Montana’s going to be marvelous.” She shot him a smile that nearly had him tripping over the threshold.
Ayana sailed through the door, thanking the doorman, and then she pulled off her coat and slung it over her shoulder.
Her dress—her wedding dress—clung to her curves, making him feel like he’d discovered a lily blooming in a crevice in a granite mountain.
She sauntered toward the bar. For a moment, disappointment crashed through him.
He’d imagined having her to himself tonight, but perhaps a public setting would keep his suddenly active imagination and libido in check.
He followed her, so intent on admiring the view of her small, rounded, tight bottom—was she wearing panties?
—that he didn’t notice two men who’d been standing near the bar approach until they flanked Ayana.
She widened her stance and rocked up on the balls of her feet.
She rolled her shoulders back and her arms went up.
One of the men quickly stepped back, hands up, showing them empty.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” Telford kept his breathing even and used his body to block Ayana from them.
Was this what she was running from? Instincts honed from his early teen years on the streets died when he looked into one of the men’s faces.
“Damnit,” one man said. “It’s true.”
The other muttered an F-bomb and crossed his muscle-hewn arms. Despite the chill outside, one of the men was in a short-sleeve black Carhartt shirt, Wranglers, and a rodeo belt buckle one could see across the room.
They both looked like cowboys. The real deal.
And Telford’s brain struggled to compute this new—though it should have been anticipated—ambush.
“So, it’s true that news travels fast in small towns.
” Ayana stepped into the seething tension.
“Gentleman, if you intend to rumble, we’ll take this outside for privacy, but I intend to grab a drink first. I have a powerful thirst,” she said, sounding so sexy Telford had an urge to deck both men just for hearing her husky purring voice.
Caveman much?
She smiled like she was having fun. “As it’s my wedding night, the first round’s on me. Baby, I know what you like.” She stroked her hand down his back like they truly were a couple. “I enjoy an occasional glass of wine. How ’bout y’all?”
“Ma’am,” one of the cowboys said and tipped his hat. “Not here to cause trouble.”
“TBD,” the other muttered darkly.
“Two bourbons. Two fingers. Neat,” the cowboy with the shinier belt buckle said.
He took off his hat and ran the crown through his fingers. His hair was thick, dark, and to his shoulders.
The bull rider. Potentially his brother.
“Name’s Cash Hunter. I’m here to see if we just might have something in common.”
*
Ayana approached the bar, feeling like she was in a play. She hated they’d surprised her. She’d trained to always be aware. A week with Telford Crow, one hour married, and she’d sailed into the Graff Hotel with no thought except to brazen through unexpected nerves.
And now she was being selfish. Not thinking of Telford face to face with his brother.
The two cowboys—one of whom could practically be Telford’s twin—likely weren’t here to brawl. They wanted information. So did he.
She ordered the drinks while the three men faced off before Telford broke and stalked over to help her.
“I can handle four drinks,” she said calmly. “Serving is in my DNA,” she said to keep things light.
“Only if you want it to be,” he said in a low, dark voice, surprising her.
Her heart warmed, but work was work—all of it had value. She wasn’t ashamed of her jobs in restaurants, bars, and cruise ships when stacking them up to his corporate god of whatever.
“You and Cash have the same spectacular eyes and lashes. Same as …”
“Don’t say it,” he said, clearly not handling this as well inside as he seemed to on the outside.
She got it. They’d anticipated a prep time they no longer had.
“The timeline’s sped up, but still we wanted this.” Maybe emphasizing their unity would help him settle. “We don’t need anything from these men, Telford.” She glanced at the men who watched them closely.
It was as hot as it was intimidating.
She tossed her head and then smiled at Telford like she’d won the lottery, and to a lot of women, she definitely had. “Think of this as a fishing trip.”
He stared at her, not totally with her yet.
“Or improv,” she encouraged.
“Huh?”
“We talked about this in your office,” she reminded him, ruffling her fingers in his hair because she wanted to and now the action suited the role she played. His hair was fantastic. She wished he’d grow it out from the tight corporate cut. Could she, as a wife, encourage that?
What are you thinking? His hair. This is a job.
“First rule. Go with it, whatever it is. Say yes.”
“Hell no.”
She laughed, picked up two of the drinks and nibbed his jaw before turning to face the two sexiest cowboys she’d seen outside of a book cover or Yellowstone show.
“That’s the spirit,” she said, wondering if she’d be able to keep her hands off her husband if he ditched the suit for a pair of beaten-up wranglers and a Carhartt tee. The image nearly caused her to purr. “Watch and learn.”