One Night Bride by Marika Ray
20
Esme
“What is all this?”
Remington steered me toward my bedroom, a mischievous smile on his face and a black button-up shirt that should be illegal. The sleeves were tugging hard on his biceps, and I couldn’t help but think about the body underneath.
“You’ve been working all day, so I figured I’d get our date ready.” Remington pulled me into the bedroom and I saw a sundress laid out on the bed. The same one I wore in Tahoe when we met.
“What date?”
He slapped me on the ass, nearly knocking me off my stilettos, and then chuckled when I turned my devil eyes on him for the manhandling. His denim-clad backside hustled to the door, his head the only body part still in the room as he looked back at me.
“The one we’re having tonight as soon as you get dressed. Meet me downstairs, honeypoo.”
He shut the door, his lazy drawl having put a genuine smile on my face. How quickly I was getting addicted to having him to look forward to after a long day. Endless coaching calls and social media content wasn’t so dreary when I knew Remington would be there to talk to, laugh with, and warm my bed.
I took off my work clothes and slid into the sundress, remembering I couldn’t wear a bra with the tiny straps. With a devious grin, I stepped out of my panties too. Both of us could plan a surprise tonight. Deciding barefoot would do just fine since he made it sound like we were staying home and he hadn’t put any shoes out for me to wear. I brushed my hair and touched up my makeup before heading downstairs.
The summer sun was still bright, casting beams of light into the house where it streamed through the windows. I followed the wisps of soft music I heard, finding my way out to the front patio. I stood in the doorway and took it all in. He’d strung white lights across the entire space, while placing a small circular table in the middle of the deck. It held place settings, a vase with red roses, and a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket. Of course, the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean stretching out in all directions was what dreams were made of.
“What is all this?” I whispered out loud.
Remington stepped into view from the side of the patio, a single red rose in his hand extended toward me.
“How I should have treated you that first night.” His eyes practically smoldered, and I felt myself get lost in them. He just had that effect on me. Had ever since that first night.
“Thank you.” I took the rose and buried my nose in it, letting my eyes slide shut and enjoy the moment. “You ever wonder how you got so lucky to have all the things you want in life?” The words slipped out the same time the thought moved across my brain. The realization that at twenty-four I could have all this and it wasn’t a dream made my brain short-circuit.
Remington’s rough hands gently grabbed my arms and my eyes fluttered open to find him staring at me. “Every single day for the last few weeks.”
“Remy,” I whispered, swaying into his chest.
His lips landed on mine, the kiss as sweet as his words. He pulled back sooner than I wanted, tugging me toward the table and pulling out a chair for me. I sat, and he scooted me in, pulling the cloth napkin off the table and onto my lap with a flourish. I clapped, and he grabbed the wine.
“We have a fine vintage this evening, pairing perfectly with your main course.” Remington got the cork out and poured a tiny sip in my glass, waiting for me to give it a taste.
“Tastes wonderful,” I murmured, not even caring about the wine, but wanting to play his game if it kept that twinkle in his eyes. “What’s for dinner?”
He poured the rest of my glass and his before setting the bottle down. “Can I tell you a secret?” he said as he leaned down, his arm resting on the back of my chair.
“I love secrets.”
His finger skated across my bottom lip. “I cheated.”
When he didn’t explain further, I frowned.
“What—”
“I asked your mom for help and she made the whole dang meal,” he finally finished in a rush.
I burst out laughing. “That’s your secret?”
He straightened and shrugged. “I called your mom to find out your favorite foods for tonight’s dinner, and I confessed to only knowing how to make a mean pot of chili. She kind of just took over from there, and I didn’t want to refuse her help. Before I knew it, she was meeting me at the bottom of the driveway with a five-course meal with the stealth of a drug dealer.”
I laughed some more, imagining Remington being in cahoots with my mom, the lovely bulldozer that she was. “I think you made the right choice. Best to let Mom cook and stay out of the way.”
Remington swooped down to kiss my forehead. “Let me get the first course.”
As he rushed back into the house, I took a sip of my wine and looked out at the ocean. Guess I got caught up in my work today. I hadn’t even noticed Remington moving about the place, setting this all up. I was a focused person. My sisters always teased me about it, saying I leaned into my work a bit too much, but I took it all in stride. I built a million-dollar business and bought this house right on the water. My focus worked for me.
Then I thought about Remington and the man he was. How much he wanted to be with me, and yet I kept pushing him away. Maybe all that focus and being a workaholic had a dark side too. Maybe Remington was my change agent, and I was ready for a paradigm shift.
“Here we go. First course of a beet salad with arugula, candied pecans, and a crumbled goat cheese.” Remington returned, setting two plates down on the table and rescuing a basket of bread from under his arm where it was about to tumble to the deck. He sat down across from me. “Your mom said something about Janey’s poor goats, but I don’t know who Janey is.”
I bit my lip. Mom was a softy when it came to animals. She preferred to think her meat and dairy products came from the grocery store, not an actual animal that had to sacrifice their life for her consumption. Don’t get me wrong, she still ate meat, she just didn’t want to think about it too hard. Pretty sure my Wyoming rancher boyfriend/husband wouldn’t understand that type of thinking.
I took a bite of the warm bread and eyed him across the table. A caw hit my ears a split second before a blur of white wings swooped across my vision. I screamed and lurched back, my chair tipping precariously.
“Fucking shit bird!” I yelled, borrowing the phrase Amelia used all the time for these nasty rat birds.
Remington stood and swiped at the intruder even as it flew away. I rolled out of the chair as it decided to tip all the way backward, landing on all fours on the wood deck like a cat. My skirt caught the breeze. And boy was it breezy without underwear.
I looked over my shoulder in time to see Remington shake his fist at the seagull before looking down at me.
“Are you—” Remington did a double take, his words dying as he saw everything. And I do mean everything. He grinned, suddenly not caring that one of the evil seagulls of Auburn Hill had attacked me. Fucker stole my bread.
I pulled my skirt over my bare ass and tried to stand up, which was pretty much impossible with this short dress, the breeze, and the way my heart was pumping double time. Remington gave me a hand, helping me up and keeping me pressed against his chest.
“That was a nice surprise,” he rumbled, still with that shit-eating grin.
My face was turning as pink as the flowers on this dress. “That was supposed to be a surprise for later. Damn birds…”
He chuckled. “You know, I think I love you a little more each day, Esme Waldo.”
I bit back a smile. “Yeah, yeah. You just say that because I flashed you.”
His grin left and his eyes went dark on me. “Nope. I say it because it’s true.” He set me away from him and pushed a hand in his pocket. “And I was going to save this surprise for later too, but since we’re just throwing them around…”
He went down on one knee and held out my ring. The gorgeous rock I’d worn in Wyoming, but hadn’t touched since. I’d kept it on my nightstand where I saw it every day, but I hadn’t put it back on my finger. It was a line in the sand I wasn’t ready to step across. The adrenaline surge of surviving a seagull attack was nothing compared to seeing Remington on his knee and his heart in his eyes.
“I know you’re still scared about your business handling our marriage, but I love you, Esme. I want to love you openly, publicly, in whatever state or country we choose, and for as long as we both breathe on this planet. We did everything backward and yet here we are, in the same place I knew we would be from the moment I laid eyes on you: in love. Marry me for real, Esme.”
I bit my lip as my eyes flooded with tears. A seagull squawked on the beach down below as I considered my words.
“You know I love you, but I just don’t know how to make this work.”
He squeezed my hand. “I promise you, we will find a way to make it all work out. Do you trust me?”
I tilted my head and thought about every encounter I’d had with him. He was honorable. A man of morals and principles. A guy who would take a young boy under his wing and be his surrogate parent. Absolutely trustworthy.
“Yes, I really do,” I answered honestly.
“Then say you’ll marry me for real, and I promise you I’ll make everything work out.”
There was an urgency there in his voice and in the lines on his face. A raw vulnerability in the way he wasn’t afraid to beg. Everything in me, besides one tiny voice in the back of my head who liked to yammer on about the sky falling, screamed yes.
I nodded, finally coming to terms with the idea. “Yes. Okay. Yes. Let’s do this.”
Remington’s face broke out into a smile and he was suddenly on his feet, spinning me around in a circle. The sun was just dipping into the sea turning the sky into a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges. He whooped, the sound echoing out across the water. My heart felt ready to burst.
When he put me down, his hands came up to cup my face before he kissed me so deep I forgot all about dinner and wondered if we could just slide down to the deck to get lost in each other. But then he pulled back, breathing hard and putting space between us.
“I want my hand up your skirt so bad I might break a blood vessel, but let’s have a seat and talk this through, okay?”
“Can’t we talk after?” I whined, trying to lean back in.
He held me off though, his jaw hardening. “No,” he said gruffly. “We have no problem in the sex department. It’s everything else that we need to talk about. This is too important to sweep it under the rug.”
Dammit. He was right. We’d rushed into sex before and look where that got us. Married and confused. We needed to circle back and talk it out if we were to give this marriage a real go this time. We had issues to unpack. Mostly mine.
I sighed and stepped back. Remington moved to right my chair, waiting until I sat again before heading back into the house for our next entrée. He brought out sizzling scallops and risotto. My mouth watered and my libido sat in the corner and pouted while my attention shifted elsewhere. Mom’s risotto was a rare delicacy I intended to enjoy to the fullest.
We dug in and ate.
“Holy shit,” Remington said around a mouthful of risotto.
“I know, right?” I muttered before shoving in a huge forkful.
We were quiet for a bit, both eating quickly lest we have another seagull encounter. Remington finally threw his napkin on the table.
“So, here’s what I think. I’ll move here to Hell and live with you. I don’t care if Izzy wants to stay, that’s up to you. We’ll keep the place in Tahoe and we can split our time there if we want. I’ll run my business alongside yours wherever we’re at. We can spin our marriage any way you want publicly, as long as it’s out there and we don’t have to hide it.” He leaned forward, pushing his plate to the center and leaning his elbows on the table. “I want to take you out on dates, fly you on trips. I won’t have us be some sort of dirty secret any longer.”
I swallowed hard. “I agree. And I think that’s a wonderful plan.”
His eyelids slid lower. “Glad we hashed that out. Why don’t you come over here and sit on my lap, then?”
I sucked in a breath, instantly turned on. “Izzy?”
He shook his head once. “Said she was spending the night elsewhere.”
I hopped out of the chair and came around to his side. Lifting one leg, I straddled him, but I didn’t sit down. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at me like I was the dessert course. I licked my lips and took ahold of his belt buckle. Sliding the leather out, I unbuttoned and unzipped him too.
“Surprise,” he whispered.
My hot fiancé/husband wasn’t wearing underwear either.
I threw back my head and laughed, right before notching him at my opening and sliding down. The laugher cut off at the sensation of him filling me. We both groaned, our foreheads touching as I adjusted to him. I looked down to see my skirt covering where we were connected, reminding me of that night in Tahoe.
“Deja vu, except this time that bitch Ashley won’t knock on the door and interrupt.”
Remington grabbed my hips and lifted me up before slamming me back down on this lap. His jaw clenched in concentration. “Except this time you consented to be my wife and will actually remember it tomorrow.”
When I didn’t answer, too lost in what was happening under my skirt, he pulled my hair to tug my face back. When my gaze connected to his, he asked, “Right?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I mumbled each time he stroked back inside me, the string lights overhead catching the faces of the diamond on my finger and making the beams dance around us.
When I screamed his name, trembling and thrashing on his lap, he stilled inside me with a long groan. The ocean breeze cooled us off as we sat curled around each other. His heat seeped through the dress and kept me warm, the protective nature of his hug convincing me this man was the best thing to ever happen to me, even if our start was unconventional at best.