Blurb
Marla
Yesterday I met him, and today he's my husband. Some might say it's quick, but I am not one of those people.
Buck
Married to my boss's daughter in less than a day? It might not be the best career path, but I've never taken the easy road.
Nothing will keep these two apart.
I will always love you takes on a whole new meaning in this short, safe, instalove set on the biggest ranch in Tennessee.
*This short story previously appeared in the Denim and Blues Anthology.*
Chapter One
Marla Tipton
My father is an asshole. Well, he is, and he isn't. Usually, he's a nice, loving father. My mom passed away about ten years ago now. It was a freak car accident that took her from us, and Pops has never been the same. I have two younger brothers who were still nursing when it happened. I was eleven and helped as best I could, but we needed help. Cue Mrs. Tincheley. Our housekeeper/nanny. She's still with us today, though I handle most everything to do with Jim and Tim. I also am the business manager for our ranch, the Circle T.
So, the asshole part comes in when this morning I was kindly informed of my impending marriage to a stranger. A fucking stranger. According to Lester McHale's Facebook page, he's fifty-nine and has five small children.
The man wants a nanny, not a wife, but it won't be me. It's 2019, and I'll be damned if I let my father dictate to me who I marry, which is why I find myself at Roscoe's out on Route 129. It's Freedom, Tennessee's only bar. It isn't the classiest, but it is going to get the job done. I am going to let loose and find a man on my own terms. As soon as I walk in, Blake Shelton is playing on the jukebox, and it's loud. People are trying to talk over the music, so it's even louder. I don't have many friends, but the ones I do are already set up at the bar. Making my way over to them, my best friend Clare jumps up from her barstool as I approach.
"Damn, Marla. You are looking hot tonight," she says, whistling. I laugh because I went totally out of my comfort zone of jeans and a tee-shirt for tonight. I am wearing a fitted maroon dress with a bouncy skirt and long sleeves. It flares out around my knees. I finished the look with my trusty brown cowboy boots.
"Thanks, Clare. How long have you been here?" We exchange hugs, and I plop down on the empty stool next to her about as gracefully as a colt standing up for the first time.
"About thirty minutes. You gotta catch up. I've already had four beers."
"I can’t. I’m driving tonight. I am here to dance the night away."
"Girl, you’ve come to the r place. This place is crawling with men."
"Speaking of, where is Bobby Ray?" I ask, mentioning her husband of three years. He turned eighteen first, eight whole days earlier than she did, but on her eighteenth birthday, they got married at Freedom Baptist Church and haven’t looked back. They have been in love since the first day of pre-k, and it shows. She grins and gets the same dreamy look on her face she always does.
"Went to the bathroom," she replies. It looks like she misses him, and he’s probably only been gone a few minutes. I want what they have. He gets the same look on his face when the situation is reversed. It’s like the other half of their soul is missing if one of them steps out of the room. It’s both cute and annoying, to be honest.
"How’s Taryn?" My two-year-old goddaughter can be a handful, but she’s just about the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met. At least to me.
"She’s perfect. My mom has her tonight," she says, leaning closer to me. "I stopped taking my birth control about two weeks ago. I am hoping tonight we get knocked up again." I grin. Clare was born to be a mommy.
"I am sure you will," I say. Bobby Ray comes back and kisses his wife like he’s been at war. I am used to it by now but come on. Why do they gotta rub their love in my face? Suddenly, the music cuts out, and the lights flicker and turn off.
"Hey, Jessica, did your old man forget to pay the power bill again?" Someone shouts from behind me.
"Fuck off, Billy. It’s storming," she shouts back. Jessica and her husband Trevor have owned this bar since her daddy, Roscoe, passed away last year. Now that the music is off, we can hear the thundering booming overhead. I can also hear the rain. I can’t even remember the last time it rained, to be honest. It’s dry and hot in this part of Tennessee right now. I am lost in my musings when I feel a body come up next to me—a big body. The lights come back on and stay on this time. He smells fantastic, and when I look up at him, I almost swallow my tongue. Tall, dark, & handsome. Holy shit. It’s hot in here.
"Bartender, can I get a whiskey and whatever cold beer you have on tap," he asks. His voice is like smooth velvet as it washes over me.
"Sure thing, stranger," Jessica says. Clare elbows me in the side. I had told her all about what my dad this morning and what my plan was.
"Marla," she whispers. "Get him before someone else does."
"How the fuck do I do that?" I ask.
"No need, babe. Buck’s got you," the man says, whispering in my ear. When did he get so close? I swallow and take a deep breath.
"And who the hell is Buck?" I ask, using my sassiest voice. The music has kicked back on a Garth Brooks song this time, and I can’t help tapping my foot to the beat.
"That’d be me, babe. Tell me your name, so I know what I’ll be chanting as I fuck your surely tight cunt tonight," he growls low so that only I can hear him. I can feel the blush rising in my cheeks. Usually, I think I would be offended by talk like that if anyone had ever talked to me like that before. Instead of being offended, I am turned on more than I ever have been, and I am compelled to answer him.
"Marla," I say, my voice breathy.
"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he says.
"Thank you, Buck."
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, placing the palm of his hand on my lower back, right above my ass. I can feel it burning my skin, and I know I am going to let him do anything he wants.
"Sure. Whiskey, neat." I say, forgetting that I was not going to drink tonight.
Oh well. I am sure I’ll get a ride.
Chapter Two
Leonidas "Buck" Buckley
As soon as I walked into the bar, I heard her laugh first. It was loud and throaty and went straight to my balls. Then I saw her—curves for days and long legs. Like a magnet, I am drawn to her. Standing next to her, I breathe in the scent of her. She smells like fresh-cut grass and wildflowers. On her, it’s mouthwatering. I inhale again, memorizing it.
The way I spoke to her was fueled by something more than desire. I can’t explain it. It’s not something I have ever felt before, but I have to have her. A fire has been lit in my veins, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Good thing because I don’t want to.
I order my girl a whiskey neat and take the empty barstool next to her.
"What brings you out on a night like this?" I ask.