The thigh and the heat it was generating belonged to the man she had just pledged to love and honor till death do us part. Hypocrisy slammed into her with an uncomfortable thud. She was now a card-carrying member of the ends justifies the means club, and she hated herself for it.
And she hated that Sheila had insisted they “celebrate” the occasion. Mandy didn’t feel like celebrating. She felt like crawling back under the covers of her bed and never coming out. Only now her bed would include the tall, dark, and handsome man next to her and be located in her grandfather’s ranch house, which she hadn’t stepped foot in since his death.
She wanted to cry. But instead she picked up her fork and stabbed at the Caesar salad she’d ordered, her stomach in knots.
“It was nice of both of you,” Ty said, including Harold in his thanks. Ty, along with Harold, had ordered the Cowboy Ribeye. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him cut a substantial piece of meat off the bone and pop it into his mouth. Obviously his appetite had not been affected.
“Well, even if this isn’t…well, traditional, we should commemorate the occasion.” Sheila took a dainty bite of her salmon.
“Why? We all know it’s just a sham.” Mandy felt peeved—at herself, mostly, for having succumbed to her grandfather’s misplaced wishes. “I just want my company back.”
A frown creased her mother’s creamy white brow. “Let’s have a nice meal and not spoil it by talking about that confounded will. You’ve taken the necessary step, so it’s time to move forward.”
“You both headed out tomorrow to Texas?” Harold asked, apparently ready to change the subject.
“We’re heading to Abilene first. Right, Mandy?” Ty seemed totally unaffected sitting in the elegant dining room in his tux like it was the most normal thing in the world to have just gotten married on a Tuesday by a judge to a woman he couldn’t claim as more than an acquaintance and who, he had to know, despised everything he stood for.
Not that he didn’t look good in his tux. He’d drawn the stares of several women in the room when he’d entered. Wasn’t the bride supposed to be the center of attention on her wedding day? Only Mandy wasn’t dressed as a bride, didn’t feel like a bride, didn’t want to be a bride. Well, not today anyway.
“Right, Mandy?” Ty repeated. She felt more pressure from his thigh.
Nudged out of her dismal thoughts, she nodded.
“Say hi to Lyle Thorton. Hear his wife had a bad bout of arthritis after Houston’s rodeo,” Harold said.
Mandy nodded again and took the tiniest piece of lettuce into her mouth, hoping her stomach would accept it.
“I’ll be worried about you up in that plane the whole time you are gone,” Sheila said, taking a sip of the champagne she’d insisted be poured for all of them. Mandy hadn’t touched hers, but maybe she should. If this wasn’t a reason to get drunk, what was?
“It’s the only way we’ll be able to see all the committees we have to see and still make the rodeo in Washington this coming weekend,” Ty said. “Mandy’s not worried, are you?”
Again she lied, nodding even though she was petrified to get into that puddle jumper of his. She’d never seen his plane, but how big could a two-seater prop plane be? This week had been nothing but a nightmare, and it would only get worse. From flying in that plane to introducing Ty as the head of Prescott to sleeping in the same bedroom with the man, her life for the foreseeable future would be nothing but one long bad dream.
But only for six months. And she’d have had to do the first two things regardless. The last had been her choice, and it was too late to second guess her decision now.
Ty reached for his champagne glass, and the sleeve of his black tuxedo softly brushed against her bare arm.
“I’m an experienced pilot, Sheila. I’ll take good care of your daughter.”
Sheila turned to say something to Harold, and Ty leaned toward her, his warm body touching hers, to whisper in her ear. “I’ll take very good care of you, if you let me.” A slow heat spread through her starting at her toes and climbing up her body to nestle right between her thighs. She crossed her legs.
After taking another sip of champagne, Ty set his glass back on the table.
“How difficult is it to fly a plane?” her mother asked.
Mandy reached for her goblet. Maybe the champagne would calm her stomach. Tipping back her glass, she felt the bubbles tickle her lips
“Takes training. Key is knowing the right switches to flip,” Ty said.
The waitress interrupted to check if there was anything they needed.
Ty leaned in again, this time pressing his torso against her as he whispered, “I’d like to flip your switches.”
A flush engulfed her. She had another sip of champagne.
“Dessert, dear?” her mother asked as all eyes, including the waitress’s, turned toward her.
She shook her head.
“Oh, we have to have something,” her mother chided. “They just got married today,” she told the waitress.