Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
And not just any man… Silas.
My husband.
“I’m fine,” I told Foster, ignoring the way my heart had begun beating somewhere in the neighborhood of my throat the second I pictured Silas’s face in my mind. “Just a little hungover, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”
Foster’s expression didn’t change. “Uh-huh. That why I’ve gotten calls from no less than five Majestic citizens attempting to report a missing person in the form of one Waylon Heath Fletcher?”
I stared at him. “Someone reported me missing?”
He began ticking names off on his fingers. “Mrs. McGillicuddy on account-a you promised to consult on the trimming of some ornamental tree in her yard. Jackson Painter because he expected you to stop by and pick up something or other from his shop yesterday. Your sister Sheridan because apparently you’d agreed to have lunch when you returned, and she’s dying to ask you how things went with Eden. And my own damned mother, who absolutely insisted on finding out why you were seen by someone in her alumni Facebook group at the airport up in Billings getting on a flight to Vegas.”
I closed my eyes and fought a wave of nausea.
“I’m the mayor,” I reminded him, getting to my feet and pushing past him to the front office. “I’m slammed with work right now, especially since I gave Bernice the day off.” I hooked a thumb at my administrative assistant’s desk with its tidy stack of files labeled Waylon: To Do. “This week, the town’s voting on replacing the stop sign at Sunset and Timmerock with a stoplight—”
“High stakes,” Foster noted.
“—and the Majestic Ladies’ Society is planning their fundraising fair—”
He nodded. “Crucially important work.”
“—and you know the AdventureSmash exhibition event is coming up in less than two months, and I have about ten thousand things to do for it. It has to be perfect, Foster. If we nail the exhibition, they’ll declare us the host town for the GrandSmash next year. I will get that contract.”
“I know you will,” Foster agreed. He folded his arms over his chest. “So you going to tell me what happened in Vegas?”
“Nothing happened,” I said, jutting out my chin. “I came back yesterday and jumped right back into work. Things at the ranch are crazy. In two weeks, we have to round up two hundred horses in the far pastures and deliver them to the dude ranches—”
“I know what a roundup is, Way,” Foster said patiently. “I’ve only lived in Majestic my whole life and helped you run the damned horses a million times.”
“Right, well.” I looked around, forgetting completely why I’d come out here to the front office.
Foster tilted his head, and his steady eyes refused to let me off the hook. “Eden said no, didn’t she?”
I opened my mouth. I closed it again. I licked my lips. “Kind of.”
“Kind of? How can you be kind of married?”
I had no idea, but somehow, I’d managed it.
“You followed her to Vegas, told her your ridiculous idea, and she shot you down,” he guessed.
“It was not a ridiculous idea,” I defended. “It was solid. Rock solid. Eden and I dated off and on for ages, back in the day, and we stayed friends even after she left town. Who do you think was her first follower on her racing Instagram? Where do you think I got the idea about bringing AdventureSmash to town?” I shrugged. “So, yeah, when she said she had a one-night stand and got knocked up, it seemed like fate. She said she didn’t want to raise the baby alone, but I figured if we got married, she wouldn’t be alone. I’d help her with the baby, Foster, you know I would. I practically raised ZuZu, right? And then Eden could focus on her racing stuff and—”
“And in her spare time, she could become Mrs. Majestic, First Lady of the town, head of the gossip mill, and director of the Ladies’ Society.” He laughed a little. “Can’t think why she said no.”
He didn’t have to make it sound so pathetic. “She…” I hesitated before slumping down in Bernice’s desk chair. “She got her period. But she said it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t have married me anyway.”
“Ah, hell.” Foster winced. “No wonder you didn’t answer your phone. I’m sorry, Way. I hope you at least took yourself out to a bar or something while you were in Vegas.”
He eyed me before allowing a little grin on his face. “If only you were the type to let your hair down and have a little fun. You probably could have gotten yourself a nice hookup or something.”
I coughed, but it came out sounding a bit strangled. “Oh. Ha! Wouldn’t that have been funny? Me, hooking up? In Vegas? Ha!”
Foster studied me for half a second, and whatever he read on my face made him suck in a breath. “Holy shit. Holy shit, you did. You hooked up with someone. You sly fucker.” He kicked lightly at my jeans-covered shin with one booted foot. “Waylon Fletcher on the prowl in Vegas,” he proclaimed far too loudly. I twisted the chair to glance out the glass office door into the large, open foyer of the historic City Hall building, which fortunately was empty at this hour… though lord knew in Majestic, even the walls had ears.