by Peter Styles
As he continued, I gazed at Vance through a mist of tears that I had to blink away.
“Remember that marriage is not just about finding the right person, it’s about being the right partner.” The minister glanced at both of us. “Are you ready to say your vows?”
Vance shifted, still holding my hands. “I’ll go.”
At the minister’s nod, Vance took a deep breath. “I, Vance Waite, take you, Wyatt Worth, to be my husband. I promise to support you and love you with everything I have and everything I am for the rest of our lives. Good times or bad, I know that together we can get through anything. Wyatt you are... my fairytale, coming true at last. And I never dreamed that I would be so lucky, so worthy, as to be able to call a person like you mine, and to say that I’m yours. I will give you everything that I am, everything that I have, always. I will be your rock when you need it, I will be your comfort when you are hurt, I will be you friend, your ally, your lover. I am yours, Wyatt Worth. All of me, forever.”
I cleared my throat, staring down at our entwined hands. Sucking in a deep breath, I gazed deeply into Vance’s somewhat shy gaze. “Vance Waite... you gave me new life. Twice. Not many people can say that they’ve had that given to them. I am the most fortunate man in this world—no offense to everyone else who got married today.” The crowd, including the many grooms, laughed for a moment. When they quieted, I held Vance’s hands tighter. “I am not worthy to make you my husband, baby. But I will spend my life getting there. You are the kindest, gentlest, most beautiful person I have ever had the pleasure to know. And I, Wyatt Worth, promise to love and support you through all the years to come. I will shelter and protect you, care for you and tend you, all the days of my life. I promise to make every day count, and I’m sorry it took so long for this day to arrive.”
Vance smiled. “It’s okay, Wyatt. It was worth the wait.”
The minister raised his hand. “Vance, do you take Wyatt to be your husband?”
“I do.” Vance’s voice was strong and sure.
And then it was my turn.
“Wyatt, do you take Vance to be your husband?”
“God, yes,” I breathed.
Tempy giggled, and Vance’s smile morphed into a grin.
The minister finished. “Then, by the power vested in me by the State of Texas, I pronounce all of you married. Please kiss your respective husbands and let’s get to the brisket. The aroma’s been driving me crazy.”
Everyone laughed. From somewhere nearby, I heard the sounds of champagne corks popping—and probably a few longnecks too—but my focus was completely on Vance. I pulled him into my arms and brushed my lips over his. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was full of promise, not only for the night to come but for the decades still ahead. Tempy danced around us, her laughter filling the air with happiness.
Vance leaned his forehead against mine. “You are so right, Wyatt. Every day from now on will always be worth it.”
THE END
Get ready for Book 1 in The Billionaires Consort Series, Mastering The Muse.
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Chapter 1 Preview – Mastering The Muse
Arlo
It wasn’t that the tea cup in my hand was scalding hot or that I had forgotten to eat breakfast and lunch that gave me the burgeoning headache pulsating behind my right eye—no, the rapidly crumpling envelope in my hand was to blame.
Carefully, I forced myself to open the envelope and read the letter, even though I knew what it would say.
This was the third letter sent to try and buy out my property—just mere months after I opened a second TeaMuse on that property. Not the business, just the location itself. The corporation didn’t seem to think TeaMuse itself had any value.
Someone, somewhere, was twirling a mustache and typing semi-aggressive letters about my credit score to try and get me to panic and sell my business.
It wasn’t that someone was just trying to buy the property—it was a good location, I got the impulse. It was the wording used inside the letter. It suggested that they knew I was under financial strain and—it was just bullying tactics. They were trying to scare me into selling.
It didn’t help that the corporation behind the letters was a massive tea empire that owned the building behind my shop.
I tightened my fist around the paper, listening to the sound of it crinkling together, and tired to ignore the fury in my chest—the dull ache of heartburn was almost enough to take my mind off of the headache.
“This is outrageous,” I said, shaking the papers at my only customer, Jermey. He was also my best customer and friend, so I didn’t feel quite as bad for shooting at the only paying patron in TeaMuse.
“What’s outrageous?” Jeremy glanced up from his phone. When he caught sight of me, something on my face must have shown that I wasn’t kidding. He sat his phone down and grimaced. “Uh oh.”
“This,” I shook the letter again. “This damned company keeps sending fear-mongering letters to try and get me to sell TeaMuse Two.”
“But TeaMuse Two,” he repeated the nickname I’d given the second location of my tea shop, “is new. It’s closer to my house. I don’t want you to sell it.”
I huffed out a breath. “I know. It’s outrageous. I’m outraged.”
“I can tell,” Jeremy nodded solemnly. He grabbed his chia and took a long sip. “Why are you so irate about this? Just turn it down, shred the letter, and forget about it.”
“I can’t.” I shoved the letter into the drawer under the register. I downed the rest of my tea and slammed the cup down. “I feel bullied.”
Jeremy cocked his head.
The spot behind my eye pulsed again. I rubbed at my temple, thumb and middle finger rotating in small circles on either side of my eyes. Oh, God. I was going to blow an aneurism. “I hate bullies. They want the location but I have the location. I have it. It’s not my fault they want what I have. And now they’re bullying me and I just—don’t have time to be bullied.”
Jeremy whistled. “You taking that on tour?”
“Shut up.”
“No, no,” he laughed. “I just mean. It’s not like you to be so angry.”
I groaned, head falling into my hands. I stayed there a second, breathing deeply, and letting my eyes adjust to the tight darkness of eyes squeezed shut. Breathing out deeply, I dropped my hands and stood up straighter. I glanced around carefully to make sure we were alone.
“I—might be stressed.”
“Might?”
“Definitely,” I corrected. “Things are—tight right now, budget-wise. My loans are due soon and, you know, with how busy I’ve been with the new location, I haven’t been here as much, but I haven’t really been marketing or doing anything to drive anyone to the new location yet, just—stretched a little thin. And getting corporate asshole letters remaining me of my ‘financial strain’ isn’t really helping anything.”
The loans weren’t supposed to be coming in this fast—or, well, they were but things weren’t supposed to be so complicated when they did come.
When I first opened TeaMuse wasn’t this hard. Three years ago, I had just graduated college and everything had felt so—limitless.
Back then, I hadn’t been alone, though. Grandad and I had built this place from the ground up—or, well, the trailer up. It wasn’t just our passion and time and energy, but blood, sweat, and tears that built this building and business.
I’d never loved anything more than I loved TeaMuse.
Grandad had stayed well enough to see the opening of the first shop, but not much longer.
When Grandad died, it had only seemed natural to use the inheritance to open a second location. Business had been good, booming even, and it was too much for the small tiny-built location to handle. Then the perfect, sliver of a vacant lot opened in my exact target area and, though it scraped the roof, stayed right in my budget. It was—fate.
I didn’t know how in the hell the land had been available, vacant in a city this c
ommercialized. It was nearly impossible to find a vacant lot. Maybe a fire had taken out the previous building, or it had been a part of the big building next door. I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the land had been vacant and available and now I was being backed into a corner to sell my fate lot.
“I thought the probate was coming in soon,” Jeremy interrupted my spiral.
I sighed. “It was, but Ned is challenging it and now things are all held up.”
As angry as the letters made me, it had nothing on my asshole cousin.
It wasn’t my fault he ignored Granddad for the majority of his life. I wasn’t going to feel badly that he was getting a smaller inheritance.
“Ned’s a dick,” Jeremy grumbled.
For the sake of family, I didn’t outright agree. “Things are just—tied up now.”
“And that’s bad.”
“Very. It’s—I was sort of counting on that.”
“Could you lose the new location?”
“Shit, I could lose both.” I groaned. “If things don’t shape up soon, I could lose it all. I—I’m mad at myself. I’m thinking about taking this dumb, rude offer because then, at least, I could save this place.” I pressed my hands down on the counter. It was a slate gray piece of wood that Granddad and I had sanded, stained, and painted ourselves. I’d held it steady while he screwed in the support beams.
I couldn’t lose this place—couldn’t throw away his dream, and mine, because I got over my head with ambition and bad planning.
Jeremy hummed out a low, considering hum before falling quiet. I sighed, pinching again at the bridge of my nose to try and gain a handle on the headache still vibrating beneath my skull.
I grabbed a rag and cleaned off the counter, re-washing the machines and other countertops. I had washed it all down when the last customer left, but still, it was nice to have something to do with my hands, something to occupy my mind for a few minutes, even if it was just the slow, methodical wiping of a counter.
The playlist that had been quietly humming in the background switched off. I slipped past the opened gate to behind the counter and went to the sound system, fiddling with my phone until I found a new one that was within TeaMuse’s brand, but a little quieter to accommodate the pounding of my head and veins.
Music poured out of the speakers and I tucked the phone back out of sight.
I should try the new ginger vanilla peach tea. It was a loose leaf concoction that I hadn’t tried since the first time I accidentally whipped it together—if I was going to introduce it as next month’s signature flavor, I needed to figure out the exact portions and how it would taste best.
Maybe if I used a little less ginger this time—but then it would be so sweet. Too sweet, maybe. Those who had a sweet tooth normally didn’t even go for the straight-teas. Maybe this would be a chance to get them on my side—or was I barking up the wrong tree?
“Arlo, have you been dating anyone?”
I sighed, tossing the empty leaf pouch down. “With my supple free time and disposable income? Nope.”
Jeremy let out that same, considering hum. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I might have a solution for your problem.” He held his hands out, stopping me before I could say anything. “Stop. Hold on, I don’t want to get your hopes up. I just—I need to check on a few things first.”
“What things?”
Jeremy hopped off his booth seat, grinning at me. “Nope, can’t say anything. I’ll call you tonight.”
“Jeremy—” I complained.
The bell above the door rang out, a string of teenagers piling inside. Already their loud and considering reading of the menu was distracting.
“Customers,” Jeremy pointed, as if I hadn’t seen them. He waved and slipped out of the door before I could catch him.
“Jerk,” I grumbled.
There was a small tendril of hope running its way through my body now. I didn’t know what Jeremy was talking about—why being single was even a factor to what was going on. Maybe he had a very rich brother that he never talked about who needed a husband—I imagined Cary Grant sweeping me off of my feet with his rugged jaw and thick checkbook.
Not that I could ever marry someone for money—but hell if I wasn’t getting close to considering.
I turned to the customers and plastered a smile on my face. “Hi, welcome to TeaMuse. What can I do for you?”
———
By the time I dragged myself back to my apartment, my feet felt swollen from standing up on them for twelve hours, my headache was a full on migraine, and my stomach was sloshing from the amount of tea I had stressed drank.
My apartment was cold, the heat having been off all day, and exhaustion was seeping into my bones.
I fell to the couch, groaning. I held a pillow over my head, the cool dark a nice reprieve. I toed my shoes off and considered the pros and cons of falling asleep right here.
The bent neck was probably going to be killer by morning and I’d spend the whole day in pain. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have to move right now. Seemed worth it to me.
Riiinnnggg.
My cell phone sang out loudly in my pocket, the vibrations running down my leg.
I cursed, fishing it out of my pocket. It redirected the pulsing of my migraine to match the tune.
Eventually, I managed to get my hand around it. I answered the call mid-ring.
“Ugh, yes. Hello.”
“Ugh, yes, hello?” Jeremy’s voice came through, clipped and full of static. “That’s a terrible way to answer your phone.”
“I’m out here, doing my best. Can’t you support me?”
He laughed.
I was too tired to laugh with him, but I huffed out a few amused puffs of air. “Why are you calling me? I’m about to pass out.”
“I told you I’d call you,” he reminded me.
Oh, right. “The suspicious no-hope hope.”
“Right,” there was the sound of cars in the background, a long car horn honking and then Jeremy cursing.
“Don’t talk and drive,” I said.
He scoffed and ignored me. “Someone is going to get into contact with you over the next few days about an exclusive opportunity.”
“An exclusive opportunity?”
“An exclusive opportunity.”
I waited a minute for him to elaborate, explain a little bit what he was actually talking about, but there was only the sound of tires and breathing. I sighed. “Can’t you be, I don’t know, a little bit more specific?”
“Honestly, I can’t.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to sell me on cruise ship tickets.”
He laughed. “Listen, I really am not allowed to explain. But if you want it—this could be your ticket to get by until the probate goes through. TeaMuse would be fine.”
TeaMuse would be fine.
My heart was still pounding and I hadn’t managed to reply when Jeremy quickly cursed and said, “Ah! Merging now. Gotta go.”
He hung up with a click. I held the phone still up to my ear, in a bit of a daze.
TeaMuse would be fine—by some surprise, suspicious exclusive opportunity.
What had I gotten myself into?
Get ready for Book 1 in The Billionaires Consort Series, Mastering The Muse.
Available Soon!!
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Worth The Wait
Worth It: Book 10
Peter Styles
© 2019
Disclaimer
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This is a
work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18)