Four.
Clayton
My leg jumps as I tap the steering wheel. Waiting. Watching for any sign of this date that’s supposed to be picking up Julie any minute now.
I shouldn’t even be here.
I told myself from the moment I saw her—two months and nineteen days ago—that I wouldn’t be this guy: the one who shows up uninvited, the one who demands instead of asks politely. I’ve been kind. I’ve made my desires known without being that guy .
Now, here I am, with a half-cocked plan and a proposal on the tip of my tongue.
An all-too-familiar silver car begins to slow, creeping along the road as if they’re verifying an address. Everything in my being rages at the realization that my little wife’s date is the local jackwagon city boy, Shawn Lewis. What is she thinking going out with this moron?
He’s the walking definition of too stupid to live .
The rumble of my truck starts as I crank it out of park and whip into the Ball’s driveway right behind him. I hadn’t planned to block him in, but…desperate times call for desperate measures.
We get out at the same time, his obnoxious floppy blond hair bouncing in the breeze makes me want to knock his teeth out.
“Hey there,” he calls, his small, soft hand—with not a spot of callous to speak of—coming up to block the evening sun cutting in through the surrounding pines.
“You mind moving your truck for me, buddy? I don’t plan on being here long. ”
I’m not your buddy, asshole.
Wagering between a polite comeback or an insult—I don’t get a chance to decide—he turns away from me and strides toward the front porch steps in his ugly leather dress shoes and powder blue button-down.
“Fuckin’ prick,” I mutter under my breath as I eat up the space behind him in my muddy cowboy boots, plain white T-shirt, and jeans.
He glances over his shoulder at me once we ascend the steps, his manicured brow raised in my direction. What a putz.
Ignoring him, I pound a heavy fist beside the fall wreath decorating the front door. I take a step back to stand beside him in an attempt to boldly show who the better suitor truly is.
I’m tall, he’s small. I’m strong, he’s not.
I earn every dollar I make with my own bare hands, while everything has been handed to him on a silver platter.
I care more about Julie than I care for my next breath.
I doubt he even knows where she works. Let alone her favorite spot to take lunch—right outside the doctor’s office at the picnic table when the weather is nice— or how she always goes back to work ten minutes early so no one is waiting too long to be seen.
The door opens a moment later, William Ball’s friendly face filling the open space. “Shawn, my boy. Welcome,” he announces. “You’re early.”
The moron beside me beams a too-bright smile. “Of course. I’ve been looking forward to this for two weeks now,” he says.
Two-fucking-weeks?!
William’s expression changes from one of casual pleasantries to surprise as his gaze trails from the expected guest to me. “Oh, hello, Clayton. I didn’t know you’d be stopping by,” he says, confusion lacing his tone. “Is there something I can help you with?”
I stand a little straighter. “Evening, sir. I’m here to see Julie.”
His shaggy, salt-and-pepper brows rise high into his receding hairline. “Oh?”
Muffled shouting from inside the house echoes down the stairs. Mr. Ball sighs heavily as he looks over his shoulder before turning to us. He waves us in. “Come in, come in,” he huffs. “I’m sure Julie will be down in just a moment.”
William closes the door behind us as Shawn and I stand side by side once more. I fight down a smirk as he shifts from foot to foot, appearing rather uneasy. He should be.
The shouting subsides with a slam of a door and light footsteps approach the top of the stair landing.
And like the parting trees that lead to a stunning hidden grove, she freezes mid-step.
Her foot hovering in the air between us speaks volumes about how shocked she is to see me—because that’s where her gaze has landed. On me and me alone.
I grin from ear to ear at the sight of her.
A thing of natural, indescribable beauty, my little wife is.
Slowly, she begins her descent, taking one step carefully at a time. I keep my gaze locked on her—not that it could stray from her. Ever.
“Julie.” Her father clears his throat, gesturing vaguely in my direction which I’m not sure whether to take as an insult or compliment that he’s choosing to speak of me first. “You didn’t mention you were having company this evening.”
“I—” she stutters, blinking away her teary eyes at the sight of me. Her head whips between Shawn and me a few times before she sighs heavily. “Is your… How’s your hand?” she asks, and I practically preen at the fact she hasn’t spoken a word to the tightwad beside me.
I hold up my right hand, showing off the great job she did taking care of me yesterday. “Still attached,” I tease, earning me a small smile from her. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
She stiffens as those fluttering lashes rise.
As best I can, I push out the words I should’ve spoken months ago, “I’m here because you owe me a date, Miss Ball.”
Stunned, she gapes at me. “I do?”
“She does?” Shawn blurts out. I turn in his direction with what I hope is a heated glare in warning, and when his face flames before breaking eye contact and looking elsewhere, I take the win.
Focusing on my reason for being here, I nod.
“You do. You may recall, a little over two months ago, we ran into each other at the farmer’s market,” I say, my attention solely trained on her and not the three other sets of ears, now including her mother at the top of the stairs, listening in.
“We reached for the same jar of Mrs. Betty’s homemade peach jam.
You fumbled trying to hand it back to me—you couldn’t stop apologizing.
” I chuckle. “And do you remember what happened next?”
She smiles, wider this time. “You dropped the jar on the pavement. Shattered the whole thing to pieces,” she says.
“Me?” I bark out a laugh. “I think we both know who dropped that jar, darlin’.”
Finally, finally, I get a laugh out of her. The same airy, sweet sound she graced me with all those weeks ago. It was more than music to my ears—it was a calling. I knew, right then and there, I could listen to that laugh for the rest of my damn life. I had to make her mine.
And that’s what I’ve been trying to do every day since.
“Mrs. Betty was so upset.” She giggles. “It was her last jar of peach.”
“It was.” I grin. “I paid for that broken jar, two of her raspberry jams, and—”
“And you asked me if I wanted to join you for a picnic that afternoon,” she muses, a sparkle in her eye as she recalls what happened next. “I told you I’d love to, but…I had to get back to my shift at the office.”
My heart swells. She remembers.
“Took me a while to find out who you were. I suppose I have that car horn busting my eardrum to thank,” I say.
“And when I saw you…I wasn’t sure what to say.
Or if you’d remember an ugly mug like mine…
but a day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t recalled your beautiful face and how you dropped an entire jar of jam at my feet.
” I hold out my hands with my palms raised. “So, darlin’, how about that date?”
Her smile steadily grows.
Someone clears their throat, stealing her attention—much to my displeasure—and I quickly realize it was the real unwanted guest in the room: Shawn.
“As great as that speech was, whoever you are. Unfortunately, Julie and I have a date this evening. So, if you’ll excuse us—” He takes Julie by the arm and tugs her toward him with a hard yank.
At her gasp of surprise, I move before I can think better of it. Clamping a heavy hand around his wrist, I twist. Hard . He squeals like a pig ready for slaughter, whimpering for release.
“Touch her like that again, and it’ll be the last mistake you make,” I growl.
I loosen my grip as he reels backward, eyes wide as his back slams against the door.
“Is this some kind of joke?” he shouts, panicked eyes darting between Julie and her parents.
“We had an agreement, William. I marry your daughter, and you get to live out the rest of your life knowing she’s with someone who can afford to take care of a family.
Unlike half this damn waste of a town with families who can’t rub two dimes together. ”
“Watch yourself, boy,” William says loudly, drawling out the anger in his tone. “You live in this damn town, too. It’s about time you start learning to respect it for the sanctuary that it is.”
Mrs. Ball has made her way down the stairs, coming to stand beside her husband with a glare of her own. “Amen to that.”
Clearly flustered, Shawn bristles, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “And here I thought a man’s word was law around here. Seems a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”
As proud as I’ve known William to be from word of mouth, he deflates a little at Shawn’s words. His gaze sweeps to his daughter. And I hate the look he’s giving her. The one that says, He’s right .
I open my mouth to argue my point until Bill Ranger’s cows come home that I was promised a date long before any deal was made, but Julie halts my readying words in their tracks.
She steps a bit closer to me, a slight mischievous curl to the corner of her lip as she eyes me before facing her parents. I can’t help but grin a little when her posture straightens.
What is she up to?
“I did agree to go on a date this evening,” she says, gesturing openly between her parents and…Shawn.
My smile immediately falls. Heart in the very pit of my stomach. Thoughts of how I can change her mind begin to rapidly swirl, colliding with one another in a panic.
She cannot choose him over me.
“And out of respect for my parents,” she continues, “I will be.”
I have half a mind to find the nearest cliffside and chuck myself over it at her words—I was so damn close! Mustering the last bit of self-respect I have for myself, I nod in defeat, stepping back from her and reaching for the door. “All right, then, I guess I’ll—”
Julie spins to face me, pinning me with those rapt eyes and a stunning smile playing on her pretty painted lips. Boldly, she takes my injured hand gently between hers, cradling it how I once envisioned her doing to our babies someday.
“Clayton, will you join me?”