Her body bucked, not to throw me off but to hold me closer, as though she might fall to her knees at the sudden onslaught of emotions. She started to tremble, so I turned her around to face me, wrapping my arms around her fully. Dakota’s forehead pressed to the center of my chest, and I could feel her breaking down, her nails digging into the muscles of my back as she held on.
“Go,” I suggested to Savannah and Erik. “If you don’t leave now, she’ll follow.” I lifted my chin to the lobby doors and held my precious package tighter.
Savannah approached and placed her hand to the back of Dakota’s head. “I’ll be all right, Kota. I love you,” she said, then turned around, took Erik’s outstretched hand, and walked away.
Dakota bucked in my arms, sobs overtaking her completely as she let it all out. I listed to the side shifting my weight, bent, and hooked her under the knees, lifting her up into a princess hold as I carried her toward the doors. The driver jumped into action at seeing us, dragging our two suitcases well in front of us to a waiting black town car. He opened the door, and I maneuvered both of us inside so that Dakota was sitting across my lap.
She cried a river, not letting up until we arrived at the airport.
As I expected, she wiped her tears away, stiffened her spine, got out of the car, and for the first time ever, reached for my hand.
Pride, pure and free, filled me to bursting. Reaching for me in support was a huge step toward getting my wife exactly where I wanted her to be.
In love with me.
The second the plane took off, Dakota twisted to the side and stared out the window. She refused any food or drink, content to stare into space through the two-hour flight, shutting herself off from the world. If that’s what she needed to come to terms with the direction her new life had taken, I’d give it to her.
Once I got behind the wheel of my truck with her in the passenger seat, the silence was stifling.
“Tired?” I asked trying to find a way to break the tension.
“It’s not like we got a lot of sleep,” she said dryly.
I huffed. “Except for the part where you were sawing logs like a lumberjack between rounds two and three.”
She inhaled sharply. “I most certainly did not snore!” Her deadened eyes suddenly blazed to life.
“Darlin’, you did. You also drool,” I added, to get her hackles to rise even further. I liked angry Dakota. I didn’t much care for the emotionally cold woman she’d become since we left her sister back in Vegas.
She scoffed and made a gagging sound, her temper flaring. “You are lying! And if it wasn’t for you, keeping me up all night long, I may have slept more soundly.”
I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Baby, you fell asleep while riding my cock like a prized mare after you initiated sex for the third time.”
Her mouth fell open in shock before she pointed at me accusingly. “Proof how bored I must have been!”
“Bored? That why you’re walking bow-legged today?” I waggled my brows and grinned before forcing my eyes back on the road.
“Said by a man who never wants to get laid again!” She crossed her arms, lifted her chin, and stared a hole through the passenger window.
“Woman, don’t think I haven’t figured out you’re a wildcat in the bedroom. One I like taming, very, very much. You’re just as hot for me as I am for you. Lying about it won’t make it any less true.”
I could feel the tension paired with her fire filling the cab with electricity.
“I’ll admit that we are compatible in the bedroom. Doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.”
I snorted. “Sure it does.”
“Yeah? How you figure?” she asked flatly, holding back her true feelings. She knew the answer as clearly as I did.
“Means we’re going to have a lot of fun fucking each other silly for the next fifty years.” I smiled, imagining us sitting on the porch in our rocker for two, me with a beer in one hand and my arm wrapped around a gray-haired Dakota looking out over our land. Maybe a couple dogs at our feet and a horde of grandchildren racing around the house.
“Fifty?” She choked. “Hardly. More like 1,094 days, buster.”
“You’re counting down?”
“I’m surprised you’re not. I still have no idea why you purchased me in the first place. It makes no sense.”
I shrugged. “Guess you have over a thousand days to figure it out.”
“Because you’re not going to tell me?” she protested. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.
“I heard that.”
“Wasn’t trying to hide it,” she sneered.
Mission accomplished. Fighting-mad Dakota was far better than sad and silent Dakota.
As she stewed, I turned on the radio, filling the cab with the gentle melody of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers singing “Islands in the Stream.”
“I love this song,” she said and leaned her head against the glass, humming along.
I reached out and took her hand, brought it to my lips, and kissed her knuckles briefly. “Me too.”
She gifted me a soft, genuine smile. One I’d cherish and remember every time I heard this song. Now our song.
When we arrived in Sandee, Dakota became increasingly more tense. Her body language turning rigid. We pulled through the gates leading into the Goodall farm, but her gaze was stretched out over me and peering through my side where our land bordered her family’s.
I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t think of a single word that would put her at ease. Just kept driving until we hit the fork in the road. To the right was my home. Straight on, the main house where my parents and my grandad lived along with the other primary buildings and bunk housing where many of our single or unwedded workers lived free of charge. To the left were my sister’s and brother’s houses.
I turned to the right and followed the road until it met the circular drive in front of my house. Just to the left was my own personal garage and workshop. I pulled in front of the house so Dakota could get the full effect.
Before I could fully turn off the engine and get around the Ford F150, she’d already exited the vehicle and stood looking at the pristine pale yellow two-story farmhouse with white trim and olive-green window shutters. The entire thing was surrounded by a white wooden enclosed porch that fenced the house perimeter, giving a full three-sixty-degree view of the land if you walked the entire thing. That way, we could watch the sun rise and set out on our porch.
“You own all this?” she gasped, her long fingers covering her lips as awe blanketed her features beautifully.
“We own this,” I reminded her.
“It’s beautiful, and my favorite color,” she whispered, taking it all in.
I know, I wanted to say, but didn’t. Not ready to share how very long I’d had my eye on Dakota as my future wife. The Marriage Auction had just made what I thought was a lofty goal unbelievably reachable. And here she stood, looking at our home.
I came up behind her and put my hands to her shoulders as she continued to gawk.
“It’s empty aside from my bedroom, and a rustic farm table in the kitchen. I haven’t lived in it long. Barely a month. I was waiting for you,” I admitted, wrapping my arms around her chest and pressing my cheek to hers.