Page 102 of Blue Jean Summer

“Cath,” I said the moment I could breathe again. But she shut me up with a kiss.

Our lips parted and those forget-me-not eyes met mine. “If I’m your valley, your flowers, and your sky, then you’re my cowboy.”

I chuckled as I eased out of her and rummaged around the picnic basket for some napkins to clean up with. “I’m no cowboy.”

Catherine caught my left hand with hers, our wedding bands clicking against each other. “Yeah, you are. Cowboys aren’t all boots and buckles. They’re the final bastion of tranquility in a world where it’s fleeting. Cowboys find peace in the wild.” Her lips curved in a smile. “And what could be wilder than this?”

Chapter 25

Catherine

Hallie drummed her nails on the kitchen island as hurried catering staff swirled around us. Her maternal gaze was exacting and severe. It had been two weeks since Hayes and I went on that evening ride that turned into something I was scared to name.

Two weeks of sharing the same bed whether Lewis was around or not. Two weeks of waking up in his arms and feeling something that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Belonging, desire, security, and a particular four-letter word had been dancing in my mind even though merely recognizing the existence of that word was reckless.

I nervously fidgeted with the hem of yet another staple sheath dress I had yanked from my closet for today’s occasion. It was a tweed number in forget-me-not blue.

Maybe I had just been missing Hayes since he had been in DC for a conference over the last few days. Maybe the unease was because I wanted the ring on my finger to mean something.

“You’re staring,” I said when the caterers cleared the kitchen just long enough for Hallie and me to talk without being overheard.

“I’m trying to figure out why you look like you want to crawl out of your skin.”

“The owners’ luncheon,” I clipped. “That’s all. Hayes isn’t here and I feel weird representing the estate without him.”

Hallie dismissed the lie with a flick of her wrist. “It’s a piece of cake. The owners eat, you smile, and I’m here to make sure they don’t stab each other with oyster forks.”

I heaved. “I hate oysters. And we’re not even near the coast. Why the hell are we having oysters?”

“It was a Walt thing,” Hallie said with a grimace.

Once a year, the Wilder family—which happened to be me this time—hosted all the owners of the horses that trained and were boarded at the estate. It was an auspicious occasion of stuffy who’s-who-ing and elbow rubbing.

“No wonder Hayes wanted to outsource it,” I grumbled. “He would hate this.”

“Actually, he attended last year. He usually uses it for networking,” Hallie said. “Either you suffer through the antics, or you learn to play the game. And Hayes is really good at playing the game.”

That much I knew. Hayes loved his work. He loved solving the giant puzzle of supply chains and sealing deals while staying grounded to the reality that it put food on tables all over the world. I loved how dedicated and diligent he was.

“Aha. There’s that look again,” Hallie sang under her breath. “When are you finally going to fess up and tell me what’s going on between you two? I’ve barely seen either of you since the wedding.”

“Just been busy.”

Hallie picked up a spare oyster fork from the freshly shined collection of silver that belonged to the estate. “Don’t make me stab you.”

I snickered.

“Just because you’re busy doesn’t mean that something isn’t going on. Spill.”

“Hal…”

“Tell me before that dining room is filled with a buncha folks worth a few billion dollars.”

I stared down at the silverware. In just a few minutes, I had to play the part Hayes was literally paying me to play.

I was $10,000 into our agreement. Since my room and board were free at the estate and Hayes insisted I use his credit card during our marriage for everything from getting coffee at the Moo Brew to outfitting the cottage, I had been able to put a sizable chunk of it into paying off my debt.