Page 95 of My UnTrue Love
“The ring on her finger says otherwise.” Bill had bought the most expensive one in the wedding chapel’s display case, courtesy of the money Desert Pete had reconsidered paying him. “Now, I suggest you apologize to her.”
“You can’t just steal some sweet, ditzy girl…”
“Apologize. Right fuckingnow.” Bill’s tone went so feral that even Clementine shot him a concerned look.
Tony was smart enough to obey, but anger still burned in his eyes. “Sorry, Clem. I didn’t mean anything by that. I just like you, is all. I want what’s best for you.”
Bill wondered if beating the living shit out of Tony would put a pall over their joyful ceremony. Probably yes, because Clem laid a restraining hand on Bill’s arm. Wisps of blue were rising from his skin, as his coyote surged forward, wanting to attack the man who’d wounded their mate.
“I’m feeling stressed in here.” Clementine proclaimed a little desperately.
Bill forgot about Tony. “You’re stressed? Are you going to faint?” He moved his arm to support her waist. “Did you take your medicine today?”
“You know that I did. And I’m not going to faint.” She directed him towards the lobby, like avoiding a fight had been her goal in mentioning her stress level. The lady did worry about Bill’s precious hands getting injured while committing homicide. “I’m just ready to go take that photo, now.”
Bill allowed her to distract him, because he wasn’t gonna let anything dampen his happiness. He’d figure out a way to get Tony later. In a quiet, indirect way.
And the wedding picture turned out real nice, if he did say so himself.
After they left the Six White Horse-Drawn Carriages Wedding Chapel, Bill bought Clementine some tacos for lunch, before they made the long walk to the racetrack. It wasn’t the fancy reception a new bride dreamed of, but she didn’t seem to mind.
She assured him her new boots were very comfortable. Just heavy.
He assured her they were good protection.
She looked cute as a button in them, too. Bill enjoyed the way the little silver spurs jingled, as she walked beside him. He considered the high-quality leather footwear money well spent. Whatever she needed, he’d get for her.
Which is why he had to go on this job interview.
As much as Bill liked horses, he didn’t yearn to work at Camp Town Racetrack. He’d much rather play guitar for a living. He’d always loved music, even though his mother’s rants about his shiftless, singing coyote father still rang in his head. Sal Pecos had hated it when he sang. Hated to even hear his voice. The beatings and shouts had made Bill stop singing altogether and he only played the guitar for his own amusement.
Then a sunny little muse came along and made a musical career a real possibility for Bill. Clem believed in him. She’d given him access to her magic and he wanted to prove he was worthy of her faith. He’d anticipated having to fake musical inspiration.
Instead, hefeltmusical inspiration. For real.
In his head, pieces ofMy One True Lovewere playing, over and over. He heard songs all the time, but not like this. The notes were so clear and he could see patterns in them. Like a puzzle he knew he could solve. If he pondered on it, he could build a song with those pieces. He was sure of it.
He wished he could blow off the interview and go home with Clem. Hold her in his arms and tell her about his ideas. Or,even better, hold her in his arms and maneuver her out of her clothes.
Touching her body was as close as he’d ever get to God. Bill was pretty sure of that. He wanted to see more. Do more.Feelmore. Tear that fucking bra off, so he could bury his head between her pillowy breasts, and slide into her tight,tightbody. It was his wedding day! Was sleeping with his wife really so much to ask?
But he couldn’t do that. Not yet, anyway.
First, he had to find a job. Bill wasn’t gonna make the same mistakes as his pa. Nope. Unlike Hop Kassidy, Bill was gonna get steady, reliable work, so his mate felt secure and unstressed. So, she knew he’d always take care of her. So she’d never be tempted to leave him for a drunken lumberjack.
…Or her True Love.
That guy was therealthreat. Bill hated the idea of that fated asshole lurking out there, searching for an opening. He was never going to give some bastard True Love a chance to unsteal Clementine. Making music was a far distant second to keeping his wife. He glanced down at her, smiling as warmth filled his chest.
Clementine and Bill, for all of ever-after.
Clem’s nuptially-induced trauma had dissipated as the afternoon went on. She was just about back to being adorably assertive. “We’ve got to slow down, Bill.”
He obligingly shortened his strides, worried he was exhausting her. “Are you tired? Why don’t I hire us a buckboard taxi to…?”
“No, silly.” She interrupted with a roll of her big, green eyes. “I mean we’ve got to slow down our relationship. Take some time.”
“Of course. We’ll take as much time as you need.” Bill had all the patience in the world, now that he had most of what he wanted. He’d never hurry his virginal mate along, before she was ready for more. He’d go slow and easy. Give her lots of space. Make her feel real comfortable.
