One Night Bride by Marika Ray
17
Esme
My phone dinged with a notification as I exited the bathroom into my bedroom. After the visit from my parents at the crack of dawn, Remington and I had decided one little post by Poppy would not bring down my business. Even though Ashley recognized him, she couldn’t know we’d gotten married that night in Tahoe. As far as she knew, we met in Tahoe, had a fling, and then decided to date. End of story. Remington had me convinced there was no story to get out in front of. I’d spent the rest of the day catching up on work and talking myself into calming down.
“The life of an entrepreneur,” Remington sighed, sitting with his back against the headboard, the light from his own laptop illuminating his square jaw and rounded muscles on his torso.
I could get used to seeing him in my bed. He was shirtless, putting all those muscles on display while he lounged in soft gray sweatpants. The sprinkle of chest hair was just enough to make my fingers itch to touch him. Or maybe it was the belly button that was more outie than innie. Hell, I just wanted to touch the man, period. It was like he instinctively knew how to make a woman drool from twenty paces.
I shot him a smile and scrolled my phone to find the notification. A client had messaged me, an older woman who’d brought me ten other clients when her struggling business hit a million in revenue last year after working with me.
When I read her message, I caught my pinkie toe on the leg of the bed. Pain shot up my foot, but it was the words on the screen that held my attention.
“Dammit!” My brain scrambled and the anxiety from earlier in the day was back with a vengeance.
“You okay?” Remington asked kindly, his gaze sweeping over me. I couldn’t even scrounge up a flicker of desire when his eyes seemed to linger on where my breasts were practically falling out of my tank top.
“My client is asking if I’m dating anyone.” I shut the phone off and looked at Remington in alarm. “Why would she just ask that out of the blue?”
He closed his laptop and leaned over to grab my hand and pull me into the bed. His arm came around me and held me tight as I leaned back against him, which I appreciated even while part of me shouted I couldn’t let his warm body soothe away the possibility of our secret getting out.
“Maybe it’s random, maybe it’s not.” Remington shrugged. “But maybe it’s an opportunity to roll out the dating story we talked about this morning.”
Even the idea of that flipped my stomach into knots. I sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. At some point, I needed to make a decision. Or like Dad said all the time: shit or get off the pot. Did I want to date Remington and give this marriage a real shot or did I want to stay scared and single, albeit with my business intact?
In truth, I wanted it all: the man and the business. But was that just wishful thinking? Did people actually get it all in real life?
Remington nuzzled right below my ear. “I can literally feel your brain working,” he teased.
I sighed. “Why is this so hard?”
He kissed my neck and backed off. “It’s not hard. You’re just making it hard.”
I twirled around to see his face, a bit annoyed with that remark. “What the hell does that mean?”
He smiled patiently at me, but I wondered how long that patience would last if I kept debating this dating and marriage thing. “It means that you’re waffling, and that creates stress. Once you make the decision and move forward, everything gets a lot easier. Think of your clients when they aren’t sure if they want to invest in a new business. How long do you let them hem and haw about it? When do you encourage them to just take the leap already?”
My thumb came up to my lip, and I chewed on the nail, a habit I thought I’d broken long ago. “Well, if the business idea is well thought out and looks like a good investment and the client’s heart is into it, I push them to leap sooner rather than later. I’ve had clients who’ve had a complete business plan for years and haven’t acted on it because they were too scared. They just need someone to hold their hand and walk them through that leap.”
Remington was quiet, his intelligent blue eyes not letting me look away. Then he put out his hand, palm up. “Take the leap, Esme.”
My heart tumbled and fell, a burning sensation hitting the back of my eyes. His message was clear. I wasn’t in this alone anymore. Remington wanted to shoulder the burden of my growing business and all the stresses that came along with it. I could leap or I could let this man slip right through my fingers.
I pulled in another deep breath and decided to leap. Placing my hand in his, I squeezed hard. He sat up with a twinkle in those blue eyes, pulling me onto his lap, my back against his chest. He kissed the side of my cheek with a loud smacking sound that made me giggle.
“What do you say we go for a run tomorrow morning? I need to get out and exercise.” I loved that he didn’t ask me to talk about the decision I’d just made. I needed time to think about it, get used to it, and settle into it before I dissected it.
I grinned, thinking a run with Remington all sweaty beside me was the perfect idea. “I’m in.”
His arms tightened around my waist and he kissed a line down the side of my neck, making me shiver.
“Since you’re in such an agreeable mood, how about you go on a date with me? Saturday night? Just you and me. I’ll make all the plans.”
I grinned, feeling like I was free-falling off that cliff as I made my leap. “Hell yes. I’d love to have my first proper date with my husband.”
He chuckled and there wasn’t a better sound in the whole wide world. “It’s all settled, then. Saturday date night with my wifey. You know you really should come up with a nickname for me.”
I spun and dropped my jaw. “Hello? I have a nickname for you already. I’ve been calling you Remy since that first night.”
He shrugged, but it looked more like a cringe. “Yeah, I mean, nobody else calls me that, but…”
I slapped his chest playfully. “You don’t like it? I think it’s right up there with ‘honeypoo.’”
“Point taken.” He chuckled again. “Maybe we both need to come up with better nicknames.”
I held up my finger. “I’ll think on that. In the meantime, I need to write my client back and let her know I am, indeed, dating someone.”
Remington stilled, knowing this was a monumental move for me. “I like hearing you say that. I like knowing I’m your someone.”
And just like that, everything melted into a puddle of affection for the cowboy lying in my bed. He was trying so hard and I’d been pushing him away at every turn. Well, besides sexually. I’d welcomed him well enough on that front, but emotionally, I’d kept myself locked up tight. The lock was gone now, my heart cracked open and vulnerable. It was scary, just like I knew it would be, but damn, it was also exhilarating.
We both paused as we heard a noise downstairs.
“Is that the front door?” Remington whispered, sitting up like he meant to go charging out there unarmed.
I put a hand out to stop him, listening. “I think I heard a car door.” I scrambled out of the bed and went to the window where I could see a part of the driveway below. A few seconds later, the headlights of Izzy’s car backed out of the driveway and off into the night.
“That’s really weird. Izzy never goes anywhere.” I frowned, wracking my brain to see if I’d forgotten she told me she had something to do. Pretty sure I’d remember if she had something going on this late at night.
The bed creaked as Remington sat back down. “Are sisters always like this?”
I spun around, thinking he made my bedroom furniture look too small for his bulk. If he was sticking around, I’d have to consider making this bedroom more his style. Or at least a blend of our two styles.
“Like what?”
He shrugged and the side of his lips tilted up. “Like, up in each other’s business all the time.”
I huffed, but a smile won out. “Yes. That’s exactly how sisters are. They’re in my business and I’m in theirs. You and Ruger aren’t that way?”
He chuckled. “If he tried, I’d punch him in the nose.”
I shook my head and came back to bed, curling up next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Nope. Sisters definitely don’t do that. We rely on psychological warfare.”
“That reminds me. I need to win your sisters over too.” Remington wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head, completely serious.
I grinned into his chest, wanting to squeal about my boyfriend—no, husband—wanting to win over my sisters. I hadn’t picked this man to be married to, but fate had stepped in for me. And handed me the best gift I’d ever received.
We talked for another hour about our businesses, sharing, encouraging, and suggesting solutions until both of us got sleepy. We stayed locked together all night, our brains mulling over so much while knowing the other person was right there. And despite the lack of sex, it was the best night of sleep I’d gotten in years.