“I don’t know if attack is the word we should use,” he mused.
She laughed.“You’re not even thirty, former foster kid, and you’re a billionaire or almost,” she scoffed when he frowned.“Every interaction with you is a deal, and you have a brainiac, highly researched plan as you stealth up to your prey with at least a plan B and C in your back pocket.”
He stared at her, though the light was green, and no one honked at him, he marveled.On many of Denver’s streets drivers would have laid on their horns, cursed him out and maybe even roared around him with creative gestures made with fists by now.
“Does that worry you?”It hadn’t occurred to him as Ayana brimmed with confidence, had had no trouble telling him what she thought their marriage was worth and what were the lines she wouldn’t and he couldn’t cross.
“Nah.I’ve been taking care of myself since sixteen.Game recognizes game.”
He nodded and turned back to the road to ease through the intersection.He wondered if he should park so they could walk around and get a feel or if they should check into the hotel first.
“It’s cute,” she said.“I wasn’t sure I’d like it, but it has a historic look that feels burnished by time and experiences, but it’s not a town just for tourists.I saw a hardware store, feed store, and a diner.The coffee shop and chocolate shop are calling my name.I wonder if there’s a knitting shop.”
There was something speculative in her voice that surprised him.He’d imagined her being sort of scornful of such a small town considering she’d spend the past three years wandering the waterways and shores of Europe, although she’d been working.
“We can stop and look around, though I thought we’d check into the hotel first, put our luggage in the room before exploring.”
“Practical, though I doubt there’s much crime on Main Street Marietta.”
“Try not to sound disappointed.”
“I’m not.I was thinking about trying my hand at working the poker or blackjack tables in Reno and while the money would have been good, the hours, lifestyle and clientele would have worn me down.”
He tried to keep the frown off his face thinking of her in Reno, but Ayana was not yet his wife, and even when she was, he doubted she’d want him weighing in on her job choices.
“This looks charming.Fresh and clean and the mountain ranges surrounding this valley—it really is well named—a paradise.”
“Not too remote?”
“No.But I doubt you’ll remain anonymous here too long.”
He didn’t like that idea.He liked to keep his business his.
“We have trouble, we’ll fix it together.We’re a team.”
He saw the flash of surprise in her eyes.“That’s right,” she said quietly.
He found the stately Graff Hotel on Front Street, flanked by parks and near an old-fashioned train depot.He wondered if the train still ran.He pulled up to the wide, arching staircase to the entry and a valet and a bellman hurried down to greet them.
“Checking in?”
“I can carry my bags,” Ayana said as she stepped out, holding her leather tote close.
“No need, miss,” the bellman said, smiling.“I’ll take it up to your room.It will never be out of our sight.Welcome to the Graff.”
“Ummm thank you,” Ayana said, standing stiffly, looking a little lost.He wondered, as he pocketed the ticket from the valet, if after so many years of serving others, Ayana was having trouble adjusting to being served.
They walked side by side up the stairs, and he had a strange impulse to take her hand.
Don’t rush her.
So unlike him to push or stake a claim.
The lobby surprised him with its elegance combined with a touch of historic rusticity.He noted a bar that looked Irish-themed—strange, but maybe not.He definitely needed to lean into his research on Montana, Marietta, and the Telfords before he made any sort of approach.
“Welcome to the Graff.You must be here for the wedding.”
He blinked at the check-in clerk.Was she psychic?But he hadn’t thought they’d have a wedding.
