Marrying Mr. Majestic Read Online Lucy Lennox

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, GLBT, M-M Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
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Foster nodded. “Okay. Right. Good call. So… why aren’t you on your way there? You know I can call in a records search and get the guy’s information by the time you land.”

“Because for one thing, I couldn’t afford to fly there, let alone hire a lawyer once I arrive. And for another… I am legitimately busy with all those things I just told you about. I can’t leave town until after roundup and after the AdventureSmash visit.”

He knew I was right. My sisters couldn’t handle roundup on their own, and we couldn’t afford to hire anyone to take my place. We Fletchers were what they called “land rich and cash poor.” While we may have owned a large swath of Wyoming pastureland edged in rich forestry tracts and bisected by a healthy length of the Majestic River, it had been in our family’s hands too long to even consider selling any of it.

And after my dad had died eight years ago, I’d learned just how badly he’d managed it. I’d busted my ass trying to pay off the debt he’d accrued and get us back into a stable situation so Sheridan could focus on managing the Love Muffin with her husband, Bo, and ZuZu could focus on her pottery.

We’d finally started making some headway when the former mayor had up and bolted, taking most of Majestic’s money with him.

The town had decided I was the only one knowledgeable and trustworthy enough to fill the position and help us recover from the losses, which meant my time was now split between running my family’s ranch and running the town—a balancing act that was damned near killing me on my best day.

Foster grumbled. “I don’t like this, Way. This husband of yours could take half the ranch. He could take half your truck.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Let him have the truck. Jesus, I almost didn’t make it back from Billings. I’d be better off riding Helios these days, if there were any place to stable him in town.” I thought about the ranch. My family’s legacy and my newly built tiny house tucked away on a portion of it. I’d built that place myself over the past eight years. The idea of having to sell it because of one stupid mistake in Vegas made me sick to my stomach. “It’s in a trust. I only own a fourth of it. Most he could take us for would be an eighth of the value after the mortgage.”

Not that I could afford to buy him out of even that much, but I knew my sisters and brother would agree to take out a second mortgage if need be. I just didn’t want to have to put them in that situation again.

“You need to serve him papers first,” he said with a firm nod. “Get ahead of this thing.”

“He’ll probably track me down eventually and get the ball rolling. He’ll have his attorney handle it. He seemed like the kind of guy who already has a lawyer and some money,” I admitted. “So maybe he wouldn’t expect anything, or maybe… maybe half his assets would be the same as half mine, and we could just… ignore all that and sign the papers. He was a nice guy, Foster. And, uh…” My mind wandered as I thought of him. I remembered chemical symbol tattoos on his upper arms and shoulders. Long, toned legs bared below the edges of boxer briefs. The memories were disjointed and scattered, but my fingers felt the memories of touch. “Tall,” I said with a swallow. “Tall as hell. Taller than you.”

“Hmm.” Foster frowned as he leaned back against a file cabinet and folded his arms again. His eyes flicked over my shoulder as if in thought.

“Lots of smile lines,” I continued. “But he didn’t smile overmuch. He was very intense. I remember that, too.”

Foster straightened. “Short brown hair?”

“Er, yeah? I mean, I suppose that’s an easy guess.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Broad shoulders? Ass so tight you could bounce quarters off it?”

“I… I didn’t say that.” I felt my cheeks heat.

“May or may not be in possession of the hat your dad gave you at graduation?”

I remembered the moment I realized I’d left my hat in the hotel room. “What? How could you know that?”

Foster’s lips turned into a grin. “Because I think your husband just tracked you down.”

I spun around and stared across the small lobby, which was definitely no longer empty. Sure enough, a very familiar silhouette strode confidently through the glass doors, carrying my Stetson in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. As he got closer, I noticed his eyes were just as intense as I recalled, but his expression otherwise was eerily neutral.

He wore faded denim jeans and a wash-worn flannel that looked suspiciously like one I’d donated to Bigford’s Thrift ’N Save several weeks ago.


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