The Bad Boy's Bride

“No kidding,” she says quietly, squirming in the saddle. “And this is part of the local economy you were talking about.”

I nod. “Not only do we have beef cattle that we sell for meat on a rotational basis, but we have a huge dairy export to the local towns. And everything on-site that we feed our guests is grown here and locally sourced.”

That makes her face light up, and suddenly she’s looking at everything around her differently and absorbing the details. I’m not sure what made the switch flip, but I like the way she’s gazing around now. Like this is more than just a piece of land.

I bring her along the border of our grazing lands toward the more public side of the property, going slow so that she and Blue can keep up. Rachel isn’t a particularly good rider, but then again, for someone who’s never been on a horse before, she’s not doing too badly.

For the first time since I can remember, I actually want to be riding Exo. I can’t stop sneaking glancing at the way Rachel’s hips are rocking as she rides, and I have to admit that my wife is hot. And right now, I’m thinking that I’d like to be riding behind her to feel that motion.

Man, I’ve never been this jealous of a horse before.

Images plague my brain—what it would be like if she rode me like that. Shit. Now I’m hard. Never a comfortable situation when you’re riding.

But Rachel is oblivious to my pain, actively taking in the beauty around her and commenting on it. She stops at some of the better overlooks and takes pictures with her phone.

“This is where the resort officially starts,” I say as we ride past the lake. “We’re a fully functioning vacation destination. On-site restaurant and recreation, shuttles to and from local tourist spots, and pick up from the Jackson airport if necessary.”

“This really is beautiful,” Rachel says, a little wistfully.

“Thanks.” At the very least, I hope that she thinks it was worth it.

We move through the grounds that are perfectly landscaped with guest cabins nestled close enough to feel homey but far enough apart to give our guests privacy. “We offer everything from lake swimming and fishing to more traditional camp activities like craft classes, horseback riding, and even archery.”

Rachel grins. “Maybe I’ll have to try that.”

“Maybe.”

The tour is almost finished, even though I don’t want to be. This has been surprisingly nice. We ride between a carefully curated line of ponderosa pines. This is the border of the staff camp, where everyone who lives on the ranch makes their home, and where my own house is.

Roscoe House. It used to belong to Evelyn, but as she got older, she wanted a place on a single level and a smaller blueprint, so she gave the house to me. It’s gorgeous. Small, but elegant.

“This is nice,” Rachel says as we stop in front of it. “Who lives here?”

“I do,” I say, dropping down from Exo’s back and tying him to the hitching post. I take the reins from her and do the same to Blue.

“Oh.”

“Come on down,” I say, reaching for her hand to help her. “You’ll probably be a little stiff.”

Rachel rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine.” She swings her legs over and drops down, only for her legs to completely give out. She stumbles into me. I catch her on instinct, getting a whiff of her sweet scent. Cinnamon and sugar and a hint of citrus. “Whoa.”

I scoop her up into my arms, steadfastly ignoring the fact that she fits perfectly against me as if she were made to be there. And the fact that her curves are perfect and soft and making me even harder than I already was. “I warned you,” I say softly.

“Yeah.” She’s a little breathless.

Carrying her up to the house, I pause at the doorway. This isn’t exactly what I expected, but I can’t put her down just to make her walk through the doorway. I glance down at Rachel, and the pink on her cheeks tells me that she’s very aware of what’s happening here too.

And so I open the door and carry my not-quite wife across the threshold of my house. Where she’s going to be staying, so, so close to me.

I carry her up the stairs and into the guest room where I put her down on the bed. She winces, and inhales a sharp breath. “You’re in a lot of pain?”

“It’s fine.”

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. “If you were in pain, you should have told me. We could have finished the tour another time.” We rode for over an hour.

Her eyes land on me with fire in them. Rachel struggles to get her boots off. I lean over in a silent offer to help her, but she yanks her foot away. “I can take off my own shoes, thank you,” she hisses at me. She finally wriggles her feet free and throws the boots into the corner of the room “I wasn’t exactly sure if you were going to kick me off the property the minute the tour stopped,” she says, “so I wanted to finish. Besides, I can handle more than you think for a city girl.”