You know him.
I’d known him the moment I’d stared into his eyes.
“I, Riley Emeline Lewis, take you, Cash Wyatt Smith, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will honor you all the days of my life.”
His fingers squeezed again, this time more like a spasm, like he’d been surprised I’d actually said the words.
“Riley, put the ring on Cash’s finger.”
I blushed and quickly grabbed my bag from the shop counter where I’d put it and pulled out the ring box. I flipped it open and pulled out the wide gold band I’d chosen for him. Honestly, I should have cottoned on to the size of the man I was marrying when he emailed me his ring size.
Taking his huge, hot hand in mine, I pushed it on his long, calloused finger and smiled up at him.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations. Cash, you may kiss your bride.”
Cash’s gaze shot to Landon, then back to me, and color darkened his cheeks—what I could see above his beard, anyway. I turned to face him fully, more nerves erupting in my belly. He didn’t make a move. He stood there frozen, looking down at me.
Landon chuckled. “Don’t blame you for looking at her like a deer in headlights, boy. But you’re gonna have to help her out.”
Cash frowned at Landon.
“You’ll need to bend down, son.”
He turned back to me, paused a moment, then bent down. I gripped his arms and rose to meet him, lifting to my tiptoes.
His lips finally touched mine, soft and warm, and a spark shot through me so hard and fast, I had to cling to him tighter, digging my fingers into his monster biceps so I didn’t fall to the floor in a heap.
His breath huffed out of his nose against my cheek, and without my say-so my tongue slid out to graze his upper lip. Cash jolted and lifted his head sharply, his eyes flashing.
Did he not like it? Was it too much, too soon?
Cash turned back to Landon. “License.”
Landon was grinning again, so wide all I could see were teeth. Cash signed it, then he took my hand and tugged me forward, putting the pen in my hand. Not handing me the pen, but literally putting it in my hand and wrapping my fingers around it, all but signing for me.
I signed my name and looked up at Landon. “Thank you for…”
Cash towed me from the general store. “This all of it?” he said, motioning to the three suitcases holding all my worldly possessions.
“Yes.”
He dipped his chin, picked up all three, and headed to the plane. Landon waved as I jogged after my new husband, trying not to trip over the uneven ground.
“See you in a month, Riley,” Landon called.
Cash loaded my bags into the plane, then opened the door closest to me, gripped my hips, and lifted me like I weighed nothing. I did not weigh nothing. I had curves. Some would say I was overweight. I didn’t care what anyone said. I had the same figure as my mother and her mother before that. There was no changing it, even if I wanted to. I didn’t.
Next to Cash, though, I felt petite in a way I never had in my life.
He shut my door, walked around, and climbed in beside me. Without a word, he reached over to help me buckle up and placed a headset on me. He put on his own, and soon the plane roared to life and we started moving.
My hands curled into tight fists, and I was finding it hard to breathe again. “I’m not the best flier,” I said into the headset. “I apologize in advance if I talk your ear off. I talk when I’m nervous.”
He said nothing.
“Oh God.” We bumped down the “runway,” picking up speed, and I shrieked and clung to the seat.
Then we were lifting off.
My hand flew out, gripping Cash’s forearm. He again said nothing as I clung to him like Velcro while he tried to fly the plane at the same time.
If I hadn’t been terrified, I would have been embarrassed or at least appreciated the pleasurable zaps firing up my arm from that little bit of contact between us.
Instead, I squeezed my eyes closed and hung on to him for dear life.
2
Cash
I shut off the plane and turned to my new wife.
She was smaller than I thought she would be.
She also liked to talk. A lot. Something I kind of already knew from the two phone calls we’d managed. Which was a good thing, I guess, since I didn’t.
Her eyes were currently closed. They’d been closed nearly the whole flight, but the few times when she’d opened them, they’d sucked me right in, like she’d reached inside me and taken my gut in her dainty fist. That’s how I felt when I looked at her. I thought that might be a good thing.
“You can open your eyes,” I said.
She let out a long breath, her shoulders drooping, which caused her breasts to bounce and the unrelenting ache in my stomach, the throbbing of my groin, to increase. I ignored it. Which wasn’t as easy as it usually was. Probably because I wasn’t just looking at a photo of Riley this time; I was looking at the real thing—all soft and round and warm. She was so warm.
When she’d hugged me, when she’d lifted up to kiss me, the heat of her body and the way her curves pressed into me was better than anything I could have imagined. And I’d imagined a lot. She wasn’t an image in my fantasies anymore. She was real. And she was mine.
My gut did that gripping thing again. Yeah, I ached from wanting her to touch me again. I hurt so badly from it. And I wanted her to keep touching me. Riley—my wife.
Christ, she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her soft, wavy blond hair reached just past her shoulders, and when she closed her mouth, her lips were like a plump rosebud. Her eyes were wide and the softest, loveliest brown, and her nose was a cute little button.
She undid her seatbelt, and her hands were shaking.
Riley had held herself rigid during the flight. It was obvious she didn’t like flying, she’d told me that, but she hadn’t complained. Instead, she’d grabbed my arm; she’d clung to me. I’d liked that. A lot. Did that make me an asshole? Probably. Definitely desperate and pathetic.
But Riley was everything I’d hoped for. More.
And I’d thought about it a lot over the last ten years, what it would be like to have a woman out here with me. Someone to take care of me, like my mother had taken care of my father. Someone to cook for me, keep the house. A warm body to hold at night.
My gaze moved over her face again, lingering on her mouth, and I had to clear my throat when I remembered her little tongue sliding against my lip. I’d spent the whole flight thinking about her mouth, that kiss. And though it had just been a short one, not the kind I fantasized about, it had been the best thing that had ever happened to me. I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to kiss her all the time.
I wanted to do a lot more than that.
She’s your wife. You can kiss her whenever you want.
And I wanted. I wanted, badly.
“Cash?”
I jolted at my name on her lips, then heat hit my face. I’d been staring at her mouth.
She reached out, her hand on my forearm again, and those same zaps of electricity shot through me. I had to stop myself from leaning closer, from begging her to keep touching me. To never let me go.