“Was your wedding anything like this?” I ask, mostly to fill the silence and get him to distract me from my bouncing knees and sweaty palms.
Colt turns to me, his dark eyes cutting straight through my damn soul.
“No. Because when I said those ‘I dos,’ I meant them. I vowed to protect Molly until the day I die. To love her unconditionally. And I’ve done that. I will always do that.” His brow lifts, like he’s daring me to say something.
I feel the urge to clarify; to remind him this isn’t like that. That this is a business transaction, nothing more,which he already knows.But before I can, he shakes his head and keeps going.
“This is just a marriage of convenience for you two, I get it. Regan explained to me Mrs. Mayberry’s rules,” Colt says, his voice low and firm. “But let me make one thing clear to you first, if you’re gonna be dicking around town with other women during this marriage, you damn well better not stop Regan from doing the same and you better keep your shit discrete, so you don’t embarrass her. She deserves to find a real husband. She deserves to be loved too. So, if she brings someone home, don’t say shit about it or we’ll have a problem.”
He cracks his knuckles loudly but that isn’t what intimidates me. Because yeah, I know what Regan said. No feelings. Noexpectations. No strings. What bothers me is the thought about us dating other people while married.
Do I have time to date? No.
Will I eventually? I’m sure. I mean, I just got to town, but I know I’ll get lonely and horny.
Just like she will.
And will I be okay with her bringing other men home toourhouse?
Will I be okay with her having sex with them in the bedroom next to mine?
Will I be okay hearing that?
Will I be okay when she falls in love with one of them, marries them, and moves out?
It’s a strange thought and one that I don’t want to analyze too much because I must be okay with all that. Colt’s right. I don’t want anything more anyways. I can’t say a damn thing about what she does after we say our ‘I dos.’
I nod. “Got it.”
The courthouse doors burst open, and Regan rushes in, cheeks flushed, breathless, wearing nothing but Levi’s cutoff shorts and a white tank top. Meanwhile, I’m standing here in khakis and a button-up like some idiot who wasn’t sure what to wear but figured, hell, this was still a wedding so I might as well dress nice.
She takes one look at me, her eyes crinkling with amusement as Molly throws her hands in the air.
“I told you to wear the dress,” she scolds.
Regan snorts. “I thought we were doing casual, cowboy?”
I glance down at myself, second-guessing my choice. “I…”
Molly slides up between us, hissing, “I told her to wear a dress, but she said that’d freak you out too much and you’d probably run away, so she put on the shorts.”
Despite the absurdity of it all, I laugh. I don’t give a damn what Regan’s wearing; she’ll always be the most beautiful woman in the room to me. Dark auburn hair in waves around her shoulders, lips a pretty pink shade from some sort of lipstick and it doesn’t look like she’s wearing any other make-up which is even more of a turn on because she’s a completely natural beauty.
But I do like that she was thinking about me. And I hate even more how much that realization makes me feel like a complete fool. Like she’s afraid I might bolt at any second. Might sprint out of here simply because she showed up in a dress.
I do the only thing I can think of to show her I’m grateful. I sling an arm around her shoulders and tug her in close to my side. “Come on, let’s go get married.”
We step through the doors of the courthouse just as our names are being called. Colt and Molly follow close behind as our witnesses and I swear I hear her brother whisperthere’s still time to back outto Regan who just smiles.
The judge runs through the formalities, makes sure we understand what we’re doing, that we aren’t under duress—(Surprise, I feel like I am)—and then, just like that, he pronounces us husband and wife. We stare at each other for a beat, me, half-wondering if I should kiss those pretty pink lips again for old times’ sake, and her, grinning like she just pulled off the best prank of her life.
Then she bursts out laughing.
“Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face through all that! You looked like you were about to pass out.”
She grabs my hand, tugging me to the side of the room where we sign the paperwork, completely unaware that my reaction has nothing to do with nerves or cold feet and everything to do with the woman I just married, the same woman who keeps telling me not to fall in love with her yet has me stealing second glances, and taking sniffs of her sweet smelling hair while wondering what I’m going to do when she brings a new boyfriend to our home that she wants to bang.
Ten minutes later, vows exchanged, signatures dried, paperwork in hand, we step out of the courthouse and back into the warm, spring air. Regan pumps her fist in the air like she just won the damn Super Bowl.
