Chapter Eight #2
His stomach pinched a little, and his face heated.
“The hotel offered it when I booked, and it seemed like a … a … nice gesture,” he explained, feeling a little defensive.
“I wasn’t … I’m not expecting … I know we’ve just met and”—mentioning sex sounded so clinical but really what else was he supposed to call it—“a physical relationship is not required in the contract unless you wish it.”
He cringed. That came out worse than it had sounded in his head.
“What if you don’t?” she queried. “Doesn’t seem fair if you’re subjected to me chasing you around the bedroom if you don’t want me to.”
He stared at her astonished. “Pretty confident that, like most men, I’m a sure thing.”
“I’m not your type,” she said quickly.
That brought him up short. She wasn’t. Or he would have said she wasn’t—it had been one of his first thoughts. He squirmed a little, because now he was having trouble remembering that this was a business deal.
“We have time to get to know each other,” he said feeling like the boring nerd Cam had teased him about being, especially when he was already semi-hard looking at her in that white dress that hinted at more than it covered.
And the bright white for purity when it skimmed all her curves was hot as hell.
The wind had kicked up since they’d checked in.
He was tempted to offer Ayana his coat, but she was dressed more appropriately for the fall weather than he was.
He wasn’t sure what to make of the long velvet yellowy coat she wore.
It looked like something out of the Victorian era.
Was that what was called steam punk? She was far more interesting than he was.
What if she started trying to dress him—tossed his dark charcoal and blue and black suits aside and demanded he vibrant up. It was something a wife or a girlfriend would do, at least that was what he’d picked up over the years hearing men talk about their girlfriends or wives.
What kind of a wife would she be?
That thought felt like a shot across the bow of his consciousness, and it was quickly followed by the knowledge that he was going to be a husband. Probably a dull one, when that was the last thing Ayana was. She brought the color and vivacity and imagination for both of them.
Her face lit up when they entered Copper Mountain Chocolates, and she inhaled deeply and immediately engaged with the salesperson, wearing a copper-colored apron and had a nametag reading Portia.
Ayana picked out an assorted box of chocolates both for the court clerk and for themselves.
Portia suggested signing up for a chocolate-making class, and he was about to say no when Ayana bounced on her toes.
“What fun.”
Another reminder he was no longer the only one making decisions about his life.
“There’s one couple spot left,” Portia said. “You are in town for the wedding next weekend, right?”
“We are.” Ayana didn’t miss a beat. “We arrived early hoping to have some romance of our own.” She tucked her arm in his and leaned into him, smiling up at him like he was something special.
“I thought so. You are definitely on the groom’s side,” Portia said, warming up the hot chocolate.
“You look so much like Cash and Taryn Telford. Let me get you two on the list for the class. It’s part of the fun group activities next Saturday planned out at the survivalist camp that Rohan Telford runs with some of his former Special Forces teammates.
I’ve never been out there, but it’s been featured in a lot of western travel websites and shows.
The wedding’s on Sunday. But you know all that. ” She colored prettily.
She ladeled out the hot chocolate while Telford schooled his features.
He thought how much Cam would have enjoyed rocking up to the wedding activities—an unexpected, unknown prodigal.
He would have probably hired a video crew or social media influencer to follow him to make the dismay really blow up.
Portia handed over the hot chocolates and a copper-colored gift bag filled with a variety of chocolate selections.
“That was a yummy stop, and I’m definitely tempting fate wearing white,” Ayana mentioned, sipping her hot chocolate.
Telford couldn’t remember the last time he’d had hot chocolate, and he sipped cautiously, shocked at the explosion of flavors on his tongue.
“You’ve gone quiet,” she said after they’d walked a couple of blocks. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No,” he said honestly. “I don’t think I could have chosen a better partner for my Montana quest.”
She laughed. “Quest. I like that. I feel like I’m in a Harry Potter book.”
“Definitely a first for me. I’ve been thinking how much Cam would have loved this excursion.
The possible family. The wedding that everyone assumes we’ll be attending for my brother.
” He made the air quotes with the fingers of one hand.
“He would have gotten such a laugh showing up at the wedding or one of the events with a big-ass grin, all innocence and bonhomie and an assistant filming it all.”
“Is that what we’re going to do?”
He stopped on the street and faced her. Actually, showing up hadn’t occurred to him.
“I was thinking a more subtle approach,” he admitted, wondering if his style and caution would disappoint.
“The shark.”
He nodded. Might as well let her know what she was getting for the year and what she wasn’t.
“Well, we’re not exactly lying. We are here for the wedding. Ours.” She paused, staring at something across the street.
Sweet Pea Flowers.
“I should have thought of that,” he said softly. They had roses in the room, but brides had bouquets. Did she feel like a bride?
They entered the small store, and he inhaled the fresh, earthy, floral smells.
“What flowers do you prefer?”
She walked toward a large refrigerator. “This,” she said softly. “The burnt orange floral bouquet.”
It was fairly small and simple with autumn colors and what looked like dried flowers and leaves tucked among the muted fall-colored roses. The stems were wrapped with tan netting and ribbons that trailed down.
“A lovely choice.” A young woman approached her. “I made it this morning as a sample to post on our social media site.”
“I love it. I love earthy colors, but full disclosure, don’t get me started on jewel tones.”
He wondered if she considered her coat—the unexplainable yellow gold with the creamy fleece and brown faux fur—earthy or jewel but kept his mouth shut. Probably Husband 101 rules.
“Why not pick a couple more bouquets for the room,” he suggested “In a color and style that you think suits.”
That way he’d learn more about her. Hopefully.
She did. He paid. Tipped for delivery to their hotel room, and Ayana palmed the bouquet, which he had to admit looked spectacular when held close to her face as she inhaled the fragrance.
“Are you disappointed that you’re not having the whole”—he swept his hand out to the side—“fairy-tale wedding thing? Did you dream of being a bride as a little girl?”
“No,” she said, looking up at him, eyes clear. “I never planned to marry so this is sort of an amusing bonus, a wedding adventure that has a time limit and an easy out for us both.”
The time limit seemed more important to her than the money, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.
“For the plot,” he said remembering how she’d said that a couple of times before—reminding him of Cam.
She smiled. “I’m having fun, Telford. You’ve made this … sweeter and prettier than I imagined. And if you want to tackle an obstacle course or Ninja challenge led by some former Special Forces hotties later this week, I’m very fit, fast, and fearless.”
“That I don’t doubt.”
“I have to be me,” she said seriously. “But if we get all sweaty and scraped up in the woods, I will hold you to the chocolate-making class.”
He took her hand, and they crossed the street and headed to the courthouse steps.
The more time they spent together, the deeper the satisfaction that sliced through him.
He’d found her, and he’d leapt before he’d looked.
He might not fully understand all he’d set in motion, but he was determined to hang on until the end of the ride.