It took afew days longer for Telford to temporarily wrap up his life and business in Denver.He and Cam had had a few deals in the works, but he could handle those on the road or in Marietta, Montana—what a quaint-sounding town.Small.Historic.Likely Cam would have loved it.Unfortunately, only his ashes—in a wooden box—were going to make the trip.
Finalizing the marriage contract had also required time.His attorney hadn’t blinked at his request.She’d drafted the contract and the prenup and had recommended one of her colleagues to Ayana.
“Marriage for love is a fairly new construct,” Sydney had said briskly.“Business is traditional and for someone in your position, it makes sense for both of you.”
Ayana had noted Sydney didn’t wear a ring, and she had whispered anamen, sister, after Sydney’s comment, earning her a quick smile.
“Enjoy your road trip and this new adventure,” had been her parting words.
They’d headed out early on a Thursday morning—nearly one week since they’d met—driving north in his Jeep.Flying would have been faster.He’d thought about it, but then he’d have to buy another car as he wasn’t sure how long they’d be in Marietta.Or when he’d be returning to Denver.
For the drive, Ayana wore pointy toe cowboy boots, a short denim skirt, a flowery, lacy shirt and a cropped, battered suede jacket with fringe.Her two bags and backpack were in the back next to his two suitcases and garment bag, and the packing differential made him feel fussy and vain—Cam had been the over-packer, not him.But when Ayana had effortlessly carried her luggage to the Jeep and stashed it next to his, ignoring the valet’s offer of help, he’d tipped the man, and stood by prepared to help her clamor into the Jeep, thinking to block her bottom and panties from an inadvertent reveal, but she maneuvered gracefully.
He kept trying and failing to keep his gaze glued to the road.Ayana had presence.Her hair was sexily tousled and glowed in the sun.She was slim and toned, and her skin was golden.And odes could have been written about her forever legs.
She kept a leather tote bag up front with her, and he saw why.She pulled out a navy-blue knitting project.He relaxed.He’d been worried about trying to keep up conversation for the nine hours—not that she was difficult to talk to.The time they’d spent together had been easy.She was observant, funny, and knew how to listen as well as how to occupy herself when he’d been working.
He navigated through the increasing traffic to catch the highway out of town.
“I stopped and got your chai,” he said, wanting to show that he paid attention to her preferences.
“Yes, and I ordered bagels and a fruit and cheese basket from the dining room for us to snack on if you don’t want to stop to eat.”
He liked that she took initiative.She’d need to, especially for her comfort, although he made a note to check with her on the little things that could become big—hunger, thirst, temperature, music or not, the need to pee.
“Since you only planned to be in Denver for a long weekend, would you like me to contact someone to pack up the rest of your things and forward them to the Denver office?”
She picked up her chai, took a long sip, and hummed a little as she sipped, which was sexier than he would have imagined.
“This is everything.I travel light.Only what I can carry.”
The way she said that got him thinking all the way out of town and merging onto the highway.
Was she still running?From what—the unconventional upbringing or something more current?
Curiosity stirred along with the urge to protect her.He had no doubt he’d find out, hopefully sooner rather than later as he had no idea what he was driving into.Still, for the first time since Cam had died, anticipation licked down his spine.A mystery to solve.A deal to arrange.A family to meet—or not.
She glanced in the back seat.Saw Cam’s box strapped in.He expected her to make a face.
“Should Cam ride up with us?”
“No,” he said after an embarrassing pause.
“Do you think Marietta will have an artistic community—perhaps we should buy Cam a fancy urn?Or was he a more simple, rustic man?”
“Huh?”He looked over at her, her knitting a graceful pool of silky yarn in her lap partially obscuring her dynamite legs.
“We could find a cool vintage box for him—wrap it in leather with cool studs to go with his whole Montana wish list, but he also strikes me as a bit of a fancy pants—maybe a beautiful urn or a Ming vase.”
“Jesus.I’d break it.”
“I doubt it.You’re a careful man.But the box is more practical until you decide where and what and when we and Cam end up.”
He didn’t want to think about the vibrant Cam reduced to ashes in a white cardboard box like it had a small cake inside.And he definitely wasn’t sure he was ready to open the box to put the ashes in another container.
Damn.Why hadn’t Cam just ordered the sandwich for delivery?
Such a ridiculous and innocuous and unanswerable question.
