She wasn’t sure she’d ever been happier.
“Yes, take me home.”
Their driver had agreed to wait for them. He’d even shut the meter off. He said he was invested in this story now and wanted to see them after they got married.
He was leaning against the side of the car when they emerged from the chapel.
“I can tell by the smiles on your face you did it,” he said, opening the back door for Jordan.
“Of course we did it,” she told him with a grin. “This guy’s a catch.”
The driver chuckled.
Fletcher slid into the backseat next to her and she cuddled up against his side.
“You need to have your seatbelt on,” Fletcher chided.
“Yeah, I know. I just can’t quit touching you.”
Fletcher cleared his throat, shifted on the seat. “It’s a long trip home, Jordan. You’re killing me already.”
She gave him a grin. “Yeah?” She put a hand on his thigh and ran it up and down.
He immediately clapped his hand down on top of it stopping the motion. “Mrs. Landry, you need to behave.”
Oh, that Mrs. Landry thing was hot. Now she was regretting that they had to get on an airplane.
“Maybe we can stay another night here. Get a hotel room?” she asked.
He groaned. “Tempting. Very tempting.” His eyes were hot on hers. “But I really want our wedding night in my house, in my bed. Our house.”
Jordan’s whole body felt like hot sparkles were dancing through it. She wanted that too. “Our house. Our bed,” she agreed.
His voice low and rough, he said, “Yeah, our bed.”
It was going to be a very long trip home.
7
Fletcher blew out a breath as he pulled his truck up in front of Ellie’s bar and turned off the ignition five and a half hours later.
“You ready for this?” he asked.
Jordan grinned. “Definitely.”
They got out and met at the front bumper. He laced his fingers with hers.
“No nerves at all?”
“Walking into Ellie’s bar where all our friends and family are? Definitely no nerves.” She sighed. “This already feels so good.”
Fletcher felt his chest tighten a little. Making her happy had been easy when they’d been kids. Even as teenagers. Hell, even in college. It had only been when she’d been farther away and he hadn’t been able to be there physically whenever she needed something that he’d started to feel like he couldn’t do as much.
And he was a doer. He could talk, and listen, and give advice, of course. But he was best when there was action too. Even with his kids at school. When he taught a new concept, he had to address all learning styles, but the one he was best at was the hands-on approach. Whether it was science or spelling, he found ways to get the kids actively engaging. Doing things.
He’d always been that way with Jordan too. When she was sad, he took her on a walk or for a drive. When she was angry, he put her in front of his punching bag. When she was sick, he brought her soup and balloons. A simple phone call or sitting quietly and talking had never been his thing. And he’d always been able to make things better for her.
So her being away in Nashville, far from her friends and family and home, alone—okay, other than Jason—without even the familiar paths to walk if she was sad, had made it a lot harder to feel like he was impacting her life and actually fixing anything.
That was over now.
She was not only home. She was his. They were married. They were going to be sitting on his porch together when they were eighty.
Their porch.
They could walk the trails until their knees gave out. He could get her gallons of soup. He could dance her around the living room. Make her his homemade spaghetti sauce. Kiss her to make it better.
His body heated at that thought. He could kiss her now. Any time he wanted. Every time the urge hit him.
He tugged on her hand to swing her around to face him, cupped the back of her head, and covered her mouth.
She melted into him immediately, and it made him hot and warm at the same time. This felt right. This was good. This was what they both needed.
The front door to Ellie’s was ten feet in front of them. It suddenly banged open and he heard his cousin Owen’s voice boom, “There you are!” Then a chuckle and, “I see the trip went well.”
Fletcher lifted his head and looked down at Jordan with a smile. “Very well.”
He didn’t believe for one second that Owen didn’t know exactly how the trip had gone. Zeke and Zander knew. Which meant everyone knew. His brothers were a lot of things, but discreet was not one of them.
“Hey, Owen,” Jordan greeted, finally looking over at the man who was technically Fletcher’s first cousin but, like all of the Landry grandchildren, felt more like a brother.
“Hey, Jordi, great to see you,” Owen said with a huge grin.
Fletcher knew he meant it too. Everyone loved Jordan. She’d already been a part of the family. This “transition” from friend to wife—dammit, he loved referring to her that way—was going to be easy for their relatives.
Fletcher let go of her as she lifted a hand to her purple striped hair with a laugh. “I’ve had…an interesting last twenty-four hours or so, but thanks.”
Owen shook his head. “I saw you in that dress last night and you looked hot as hell, but honestly? You look even better now.”
Jordan tipped her head and narrowed her eyes. Owen was a natural-born bullshitter. And charmer. Which translated to being an unapologetic fabricator—a nicer word, and more accurate, than liar—with a killer grin. Which Jordan knew very well. The suspicious look she was giving Owen was well earned.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“You’ll always look better standing on Louisiana bayou dirt,” Owen said with a nod.
Fletcher couldn’t agree more. He looked at Jordan. And was startled to see her eyes were watery.
He stepped close, looping an arm around her waist. “What’s wrong?”
She sniffed and lifted her face to give him a sweet smile. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything is wonderful.”
He wanted to kiss her again. He started to lean in, but Owen interrupted. Probably on purpose.
“Get your asses in here,” Owen said, pushing the door open wide. “Everyone’s waiting.”
Fletcher was sure they were.
Jordan looked up at him and gave him a little grin. She stretched up and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Hold that thought,” she told him.
He wondered if she had even the slightest idea about all the thoughts he was having and would have to hold onto.
Actually, some time here would probably be good. He needed to rein it in a little. He couldn’t just take her home, throw her on the bed, and go for it. This would be their wedding night, for fuck’s sake. He could do better than that.
Couldn’t he?
He could be romantic. And sweet. And make this memorable. And everything she ever wanted. He could be the best she ever had. He could…
“Are you all right?” she asked, squinting up at him.
Fletcher cleared his throat. Fuck. No pressure. He managed to nod. “Sure. Yeah. Of course.”