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My penis is even sad. Look at it all drooped and depressed. I can’t remember the last time his spirits were lifted—if you know what I mean. Actually, I can. It was a week and a half before the wedding. Yup. She hadn’t loved me, but she’d loved my dick. Yay.
“Uncle Ry Ry, you say fuck all the time.” “Mac, don’t say the F-word,” he says. “I didn’t. I just told you that you say fuck. That’s a bad word.” “Yes, I realize that,” Ryland says. “So don’t say it.” “I didn’t,” Mac defends. “You said fuck.” Ryland pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just say the F-word.” “You want me to say fuck?” she asks, confused.
But being the author that I am, I know it won’t be that easy. I can’t just waltz into a small town and offer a woman I barely know a proposal of marriage in exchange for land. This isn’t a Hallmark Christmas movie. This is real life.
“That’s what I was wondering,” Aubree says with a growl from the side. When I glance over at her, all I can think is . . . Yikes! There she is, everyone, my blushing bride.
The man is deadly attractive, an in-your-face kind of handsome that makes people feel weak in the knees, with the slight curl in his hair, captivating eyes, and sharp jawline.
I thought he wrote thrillers. He’s acting like a billionaire trying to monopolize the potato industry. Who does he think he is? Huxley Cane?
Isn’t that how it always goes, though? The man gets the praise, while the woman gets the blame?
I’ve never been a hair man, but something about those braids you like to wear flips my stomach upside down. And not that I should mention your body, but fuck, Aubree, it’s curvy but muscular, soft but strong. You can hold your own, but you also look like someone I’d like to hold. And last, those lips, like two flower petals, waiting to be explored.”
After a few moments of silence, he leans in close to my ear and says, “It was how I referred to your lips as flower petals that broke you, wasn’t it?”
Grinding my teeth together, I say, “Shut up, Wyatt.”
“A reverse grumpy sunshine,” I say. Hayes raises a brow in question, causing me to laugh. “Sorry, it’s a book trope. Usually in books, the man is the grumpy one and the girl is the sunshine in the relationship. People love a grumpy hero and a female who can bring him to his knees. Aubree and I would be the reverse version. She’s grumpy, and I’m sunshine, but she’s still the one bringing me to my knees. Every fucking day.”
“The Rowley women will do that to you,” Hayes says.
“It’s the challenge,” Hayes says knowingly. “We like the fucking challenge.”
“As long as you wear my ring, use my name, and sleep in my bed, you are mine to protect. Get comfortable on your new side because that’s where you’ll sleep.”
“You think making out while watching The Shining, one of the creepiest movies ever made, is going to help our image? It’s going to make us look like deranged psychopaths who get off on things like murder and creepy twins.”
That kiss . . . that was short, but the perfect length to entice me. I don’t want to admit this, but God, I want more.
But if we have to relate your physical attributes to what makes you sexy, then you have the nicest, bubbliest ass I’ve ever seen, your tits are firm and perky and look amazing without a bra, and those lips, Aubree, fuck me can they bring me to my goddamn knees.
“Says the girl who stuck her tongue down my throat last night.” I playfully bump her shoulder. Her jaw falls open in shock. “You started it.” “But man, did you finish it.”
“Mrs. Preston,” he says as he spreads his legs and sits taller on the couch. “Sit on my goddamn lap.” “Are you sure? I don’t want to—” “More than fucking sure,” he says before wetting his lips.
I hold my breath, not wanting to scare her away, because Jesus Christ, she’s holding my hand. Everyone, stay calm. I SAID, STAY CALM!
His expression softens as he says, “I’m here for you, Aubree. I’m like a boomerang. You keep tossing me away, and I keep coming back.”
No, you’re making it that much harder for me not to fall for you. You’re making it so freaking easy to say I do on Saturday.
Dear God, if this is what it means to marry Aubree, then I’m all fucking in.
He smirks and then lightly presses a kiss to my nose. “Then if that’s the case, Aubree Preston, will you date your husband?”
Growling, he holds my jaw in place and presses his lips to mine. “You very well might be the death of me if you keep that up.”
“What a way to go.”
“You are what I care about. You are my end goal, Aubree. Only you.”
“I love you, Aubree, so fucking much, and I plan on proving that to you every day. Not just with my words but with my actions.”
I look into the eyes of a man I never saw coming, and I realize that the farmland was the reason I married him, but I’ll stay because of who he is as a man. The loyalist. The protector. The lover. The jokester. The rock I’ve needed for so long.
A marriage of convenience. Who knew such a book trope would become a reality? And who knew that reality would turn into a dream.
I sure as hell didn’t, but I’m so grateful she married me for land because now I get her hand for life.
