Page 31 of Bride ’N Boots

“Funny,” he agreed. “Who knew a little gremlin would charge into a bakery in a wedding dress. You caused quite the ruckus.”

“Ruckuses are good,” I said.

The microwave beeped and I pulled out the plate and handed it to Stratton.

“Do you think I have an appetite of a moose?” he asked in amusement when he saw the pile of food on his plate.

“Protein.” I waggled my brows at him. “Gotta keep up your stamina for tonight.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s share this.”

We settled onto the couch and he placed the plate on the coffee table.

“You only got one fork,” I said, intending to rise.

His hand on my bare thigh stopped me. “I’ll feed you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said with an eye roll. “Let me just get another fork.”

“Yeah, you definitely can’t follow directions,” he quipped. “I want to feed you. Let me take care of you.”

My insides melted. “Okay.”

He scooped up a bite of brisket and held it out to me. I chomped it and then made a noise of excitement. Then I opened my mouth for another bite immediately.

Chuckling, Stratton fed me another bite.

“Damn, that’s good,” I said.

“The best,” he agreed.

“So, husband,” I quipped. “Tell me about the ghosts of relationships past.”

“You really want to hear about other women, wife?”

“Well, no,” I said. “But I do want to know how you turned out to be you. For that, I think that means the discussion of past girlfriends.”

“Never had any serious relationships.”

“What?” I asked in shock.

“I had a few . . . interludes when I was younger. I worked all the time, and the people I was around viewed me as the help, Maisie. Big, strapping help. And over time bored, rich women who weren’t satisfied with their husbands made it known that they wanted me. A dirty little secret with dirty hands.” He shook his head. “That’s the real reason I left Jackson Hole. I knew I had to get out of there or I’d always be seen that way. You know?”

I swallowed. “So, were you? With them, I mean?”

He paused for a moment. “Yeah, I was. I was young and dumb, but eventually it made me feel cheap and used. And the people I worked for knew everyone in town so there was no hiding it after a while. So, I left.”

“Oh,” I said softly. “Sometimes rich people have more money than sense.”

“Boy, isn’t that the truth. At least the Calhouns aren’t that way. They’re good people.” He took a bite of pulled pork. He chewed and swallowed before talking again. “Anyway, that’s the nut of it. Not much to report in that regard.”

I nodded.

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?” I repeated.

“What about your past?”