Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch (Gold Valley #13)(25)

“We have an appointment.”

“It’s Gold Valley,” he said. “It’s not like people are going to be banging down the door to get married on a weekday morning in the courthouse.”

He undid her seat belt and took her hand, and the minute her skin connected with his, a rush of warmth overtook him that nearly made his brain black out. It would be the easiest thing, the easiest damn thing, to chase that feeling of warmth. To pull her up against his body and...

“Come on.”

He turned and started heading toward the field. There was a barbed-wire fence that was partly down, blocking them from getting to the rest of the field. “Hang on.” He stepped carefully over the fence, then lifted Callie up by the waist, and over it neatly.

She squeaked, and stumbled against him, looking up at him with wide eyes. There was a question in those eyes. And it wasn’t about bucking broncos. Or trust funds, or anything of the kind.

And he turned away from that question. Because whatever he could do for her, it wasn’t that.

“This seemed important,” he said, bending down and scooping up a handful of those dry scraggly weed-flowers.

She looked at him, her expression blank.

“Well, don’t get all mushy on me, Cal,” he said, handing them to her.

“What’s it for?” she asked.

“A bouquet. You ought to at least have that.”

And he realized the ridiculousness of it, standing out in a field on a freezing cold morning giving a woman a handful of weeds, on his way to a courthouse wedding. Knowing full well that he was never going to be her husband, not in any real way, and his body pounding against the walls he built up around all the things it wanted, because there was just no...

She’d dreamed of a wedding. A real wedding, and if anything was going to stop him from doing something they would both regret, that should. If her presumed innocence, her naivety, her family connections, didn’t do it, that should.

“Thank you,” she said, looking away from him.

“Come on,” he said. “Like you said, we can’t keep everyone waiting.”

“Guess not,” she said.

They got back in the truck, and she held on to the flowers, dirt coming off a root ball from the bottom of one. She brushed at it idly, and he turned his focus back to the road.

“Just think about the rodeo,” he said. “That’s the real dream, right?”

“Yeah. It’s the real dream.”

They were silent the rest of the way into town, and it was probably for the best. He pulled up to the small, brick building, and even though he knew she would protest, he opened her door and helped her out.

“Thank you,” she said, surprising him.

They walked into the courthouse, side by side, not touching, because they were just friends doing an illegal thing, and that was it. It was a surprise to him, how perfunctory a marriage could be. Because it wasn’t the vows that made it a marriage—you could write your own. It was the paperwork. And the fact that you had to say something in front of a judge and a witness. They elected to forgo traditional vows, because why?

Instead, he made promises of a different kind.

“If you ever need me, I’ll be there for you. Whatever, whenever. I’m your go-to.”

She nodded gravely. “I’m yours. Whatever. Whenever.”

They didn’t exchange rings. Rings were an occupational hazard for people who did ranch work or rode rodeo. So there was no reason for those, either.

They opted not to kiss, and not even that was a big deal. Then it was all said and done. They were in a courthouse in Gold Valley, the two of them legally married, and on their way in twenty minutes. They walked out as husband and wife. And it didn’t matter that he’d said none of the traditional words, didn’t matter that he hadn’t kissed her. Didn’t matter that it was supposed to be temporary... There was something in him that felt deeply, utterly possessive of her in that moment.

As if you didn’t before?

“Well, what should we do?” she asked.

“Get back to work, I guess,” he said.

“Yeah. Oh.” She pulled a face. “I need to call my parents.”

“You don’t have to do it today.”

She was still hanging on to those flowers.

“I mean, I should,” she said. “Because we have to prepare them for the fact that Christmas we’re going to show up... Together. Married.”

“Right. And so your story is that we fell madly in love at Thanksgiving?”

“You know, feelings brewing before then and things like that...”

“They’re going to think you’re pregnant,” he said. “You know that, right?”

She looked over at him with shocked eyes. “Surely not.”

“Honey, why do you think anyone gets married this quick? It’s not because of love, not because of lust, even. This isn’t the Dark Ages—you can have as much sex as you want without a legal commitment.”

“Maybe you’re a gentleman.”

He looked at her, fire filling his veins. “I am not.”

Her eyes widened a fraction and the color began to mount in her cheeks and she looked away quickly. That small moment, that flash of awareness, sent an answering heat barreling through him. “I mean, I know you’re not, not in general. Not to the buckle bunnies. But maybe you treated me different.”