One Night Bride by Marika Ray
9
Esme
I didn’t know what to expect of Wyoming, since I’d never been, but it wasn’t to land on a tiny airstrip in the middle of a field.
“Where’s the airport?” I wondered out loud, watching my step as I came down the stairs of Remington’s jet and onto the tarmac. If he’d given me more time, I would have changed clothes into something a little more travel friendly. As it was, I was thankful he’d given me a half hour to pack a small bag.
Remington just smirked at me, that expression he seemed to make all the time. At least with me. His lips twitched to one side and his blue eyes sparkled with some inner humor he didn’t feel the need to share.
“This is my family’s airstrip,” he said simply, carrying my bag and his, walking over to the only vehicle in sight, a giant black truck I’d need a ladder to get into.
I followed him, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of a cowboy in a perfectly fitting pair of Levi’s. Being in Wyoming was disorienting enough. I might as well enjoy the best the state had to offer, am I right?
Remington tossed our bags into the back of the truck like they weighed nothing, then opened the passenger door for me. He looked down at my shoes and lifted an eyebrow.
“Up you go,” he said, grabbing me by the hips and swinging me into the truck like a bale of hay.
I bit back a squeal of surprise, surveying the inside of a luxury truck like I was in a spaceship. “Huh. Seems all you’re missing is the gun rack, Remy.”
He let go of me and shot me a look that said not to mess with his truck. He went to close the door, but not before I caught him mumble, “This is going to be fun.” I stuck my tongue out at him as he crossed in front of the truck to the driver’s side. He just bit back a smile.
We drove just a few miles down the road, turning into a long unpaved driveway of sorts before two huge pillars of stone and a wrought-iron gate announced we’d reached Roth River Ranch. The gate sprang into action as we approached, pulling back and letting us enter his family’s property. The house came into view as we made a bend left, the structure made of wood and rock and a wraparound porch that made me dream of stargazing late at night snuggled up in a blanket. A string of gables that broke up the roofline, went on and on, the house more of an estate or compound than a simple house. Green trees dotted the surrounding landscape, and a small stream meandered to the one side of the house.
“It’s gorgeous,” I said on a heavy exhale. The man had a private jet, for crap’s sake. Of course his family’s house would be next level. I’d made good money for myself, but it was nothing compared to this.
He parked right outside the stairs that came down off the porch, a wide double door of wood and glass above it, flanked by pots of flowers in every color.
“Home sweet home,” Remington announced and I could see the pride in his face.
I opened the door, not one to wait for the guy to open things for me. My mistake was immediately apparent as I slid so far down I thought I might be at the county fair flying down a slide on a burlap sack. My stilettos finally hit land, but not without a decided squish that made me instantly grimace. Without even looking down, I knew it wouldn’t be good.
“Um…Remington?” I asked, voice wavering despite me screaming at myself to keep it together like the professional I was.
He came around, looked down, and jammed his fist against his mouth. His shoulders began to shake, but he didn’t move to help me.
“Seriously?” I snapped.
Remington rolled his lips in and came forward to tug my foot out of the mess below. “How about you leave your shoes with me and I’ll see if we can get them cleaned up, huh?”
I looked down at his head as he crouched down, his body blocking me from the carnage. “Do I even want to know?”
He shook his head and his shoulders kept shaking as he stood up. “Nope. Tell you what. Let’s just get you inside, honeypoo.” He reached down and swung my legs up, my shoes remaining in the mud and God only knew what else on the ground.
I wrinkled my nose for so many reasons. “Honeypoo?”
He touched his forehead to mine, and I have to say, I didn’t mind him clutching me to his muscled chest. “Yes. That’s my nickname for my bride. Remember, honeypoo?”
My heart hammered in my chest. Maybe from the intensity in his eyes, or the way his breath fanned across my face, making me want to lean in just a tiny bit and kiss those lips again.
“Remington!” came a female cry from the porch.
He whirled around, me in his arms. An older man who looked like a silver fox version of Remington came up behind the blonde-haired woman, his arm around her shoulders. Two more people streamed out the front door and came to stand on the porch, all of them eyeing us with a thousand questions in their expressions. A reddish-brown dog barreled out the door and down the porch steps, jumping up and narrowly missing my pants with his muddy paws.
“Down, boy,” Remington commanded, and the dog sat quickly. The poor thing whined as his tail swished across the ground.
“Mom, Dad, Ruger, Killam. I’d like you to meet my wife.”
I pasted on a broad smile, and letting go of Remington’s neck, gave them jazz hands. It was ridiculous. Literally the worst introduction to someone’s parents ever, especially family that was now my family. At least, would be if we stayed married, which we didn’t plan to, but they didn’t know that.
After a long, stunned silence, they all spoke at once.
“Are you kidding me right now, young man?”
“Holy shit, nicely done, bro.”
“Where’d her shoes go?”
Everyone quieted down as Remington’s dad came down the steps and studied his son’s face. He had a presence about him that told me he was the alpha of the family, which was hard to believe. Remington was all male dominance, but his dad emanated it like a pheromone.
“Is this what you want, son? Truly?” His voice held the same rumble Remington’s did.
His son squeezed me tighter, his answer making butterflies take off in my stomach. “It is, Dad. She is.”
His dad gave a nod and then looked to me, his expression softening. “Welcome to the family, then.”
A dusting of guilt for lying to these good people mixed in with the butterflies and had me feeling all sorts of things. I gave him a genuine smile.
“Thank you. And it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Esme.”
I put my hand out there for him to shake. A much better thing to do with it than freaking jazz hands. He took it, his hand enveloping mine.
“And you can call me Grant. Or Dad, whichever you prefer.”
My heart melted, and as I glanced back to Remington, he looked like he’d swallowed wrong. He took me up the stairs to deposit me on the porch where my bare feet wouldn’t get dirty. His mom rushed me with a hug that almost crushed my bones.
“I can’t believe it! I’m so excited to have a daughter finally!” she said in my ear. When she pulled back, there was a distinct shininess to her eyes that layered on more guilt.
“Mom, would you mind showing Esme around while I head out to the field to check the fence line with the boys?” Remington put his hand on his mom’s back, the other keeping the ecstatic canine from mauling him. “If I don’t pay some attention to Ol’ Red, I think he might get mad at me.”
She twirled to poke him in the chest. “Forget about the dog. I’m mad at you, young man. You have some explaining to do when you get back. Don’t think I’ll forget either.”
Remington gave her an “aw shucks” grin that made me wonder what he looked like as a young boy. He kissed her on the cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
His mom made a noise in her throat, but put an arm around my waist and led me into the house just the same. I caught Remington looking at me with a funny expression when I peeked over my shoulder. Then his brother grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him off to go look at the fence, the dog loping after them.
“You can call me Julie, by the way.” His mom stopped in the kitchen and let me go. “I was just about to get started on dinner. The boys only have a couple more hours of daylight, and once that’s gone, they’ll be piling in here hungry. You like lasagna?”
Despite feeling completely out of my element, I managed a smile. “Who doesn’t like lasagna?”
I knew it was the right thing to say when Julie beamed at me and tossed me an apron. “All right, city girl. Let’s start chopping the tomatoes.”
“Chopping tomatoes?” That didn’t sound like any lasagna I’d ever made.
Julie smirked, and it reminded me so much of Remington I lost my train of thought. “You don’t think we make tomato sauce from a can, do you?”
“Oh boy. You’re really going to wish my twin sister was here instead of me. She’s the cook in the family.”
Julie just laughed, not yet aware of my ineptitude in the kitchen. We chatted while we chopped, sauteed, and layered our way to a lasagna that filled two huge pans. She pretty much got my entire life’s story out of me, short as it was. I’d skirted around how Remington and I had met, not really sure how to tell her her son banged my brains out in the hotel bathroom. We’d just put the lasagna in the oven and poured a glass of wine for each of us, when I heard a diesel truck approach the house.
“The boys must be back,” Julie said, plopping down on the couch and putting her feet up on the coffee table. I loved that even though their house and property must be worth several million, the place was warm and friendly.
I glanced out the window and saw all four pile out of the truck like some kind of hot cowboy calendar photo shoot was about to begin. Their jeans were muddy and dirt streaked their foreheads. Grant wrenched off his boots, tossing them on a wood bench up against the house. A spray of water came off from the house, probably from a faucet I couldn’t see. Remy grabbed Killam in a headlock, only letting go when the kid elbowed him in the stomach. Grant rinsed his face and hands before coming around front to come in the house. The boys, all laughing and carrying on full volume, followed suit by taking off their boots too.
Remington ripped his shirt over his head and my mouth ran dry. I didn’t remember seeing him in the hotel room without a shirt, a regret I felt like a punch to the gut. He was magnificent. Six-pack abs, a V-shape of muscles angling down to the treasure I was intimately familiar with behind the buttons of his pants. Shoulder boulders that flexed as he stepped under the spray of water and ran his hands through his hair. He turned, and I got a shot of his wide back and the denim-clad ass that had kept my attention since the moment I’d caught sight of him in the bar.
“So how’d you two meet, Esme?” Grant asked, startling me.
I looked away from the window to see him inside the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of wine. I had to clear my throat before I could answer. Jesus, it was hot in here.
“Um, well, we met in Tahoe,” I said lamely.
“Mm-hmm. That’s about all I got out of Rem too,” he answered with a chuckle.
The front door opened and Remington came inside, wiping his shirt down his torso to dry himself. His wet hair spiked all over his head, and his face lit up in a smile when he saw me.
“Hey, honeypoo,” he drawled.
And damn him, but my knees went weak.
Being half naked was so not fair. Who could resist all that?
Ruger and Killam came through the door behind him, similarly half naked and stacked with muscle, but all my attention stayed firmly on Remington. The dog tried to come in, but Julie ran him out, saying she’d put his food out if he was a good boy. Remington sauntered over in bare feet before ducking down and kissing me, right in front of everyone.
“Did you miss me?” he whispered for my ears only.
“No,” I whispered back.
My bright red cheeks said otherwise. He tossed his head back and laughed. Meanwhile, I watched a water droplet trace down his collarbone, over his lump of a chest and into the six-pack I wouldn’t mind tracing with my tongue.
“My eyes are up here, honeypoo.”
I blinked and found Remington staring at me with laughter in his eyes. Ugh, he was impossible.
“Put a damn shirt on, would you?” I hissed, hoping none of his family were close enough to hear.
“You have just enough time to take a shower before dinner, Rem,” Julie called from the couch.
“Thanks, Mom,” he answered, still looking at me like he was about to haul me over his shoulder and carry me upstairs for being adorable.
“I didn’t make up the guest room since I didn’t know you were coming home with a wife, so you’ll have to share your old room,” Julie teased, still miffed about him springing marriage on her like this.
I didn’t blame her. My parents would freak out. I thought she was handling it quite well, all things considered.
Wait.
Share a room? My eyes went round and Remington had to roll his lips inward to keep from laughing. I really needed to work on my poker face. Remington traced a single finger down my cheek and then spun away to go take a shower, leaving me down here to chat with his parents. My fake-but-real in-laws.
Alone.
I was going to kill him.