The Accidental Bride

by Denise Hunter

  “Shay.”

  “Sorry. Sorry.” She had to collect her thoughts, ease into this. “Thing is, I broke my foot day before yesterday—”

  “Why do you think I called? I had to hear it from Hollis this morning.”

  Hollis was one of his hands—a real blabbermouth. “I’m sorry.”

  “I was gonna offer to come feed your animals, but I see you got that covered.”

  Shay ran a hand over her face. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “What’s going on, Shay?”

  She should just say it. There was no way to make it easy. “Beau . . . Travis and I are . . . married.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to block the image that popped into her mind. The hurt she knew was on Beau’s face.

  “This some kind of joke?” She’d never heard that tone in his voice.

  “I’m so sorry, Beau.”

  “What about us, Shay? I thought . . .”

  “I should’ve told you how I felt. I was wrong.” You are such a heel, Shay.

  “Married.”

  “The ceremony on Founders Day . . . it was real.”

  “That was . . . but we . . . what the heck, Shay?”

  “I know. I know. We were planning to announce it today.” Sort of true. It was going to get out anyhow. Especially now. “I’m really sorry, Beau. You don’t deserve this. I should’ve told you sooner.”

  The door to her room clicked open. Travis. She reached out and pushed it shut.

  “This is like a nightmare.”

  She knew the feeling. “I’m sorry.”

  “You love him, then?”

  Shay bit hard on the inside of her lip. What to say? She didn’t love Travis, would not love Travis, but she couldn’t admit that.

  “You never got over him, did you?”

  She wished she could lie about that one. “No.” She hated to admit it, even to Beau, though it made the marriage seem authentic.

  “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  She knew he was probably pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Moments later he gave a resigned sigh. “What can I say? Deep down, I hope you’re happy, Shay.”

  Of course he’d be a gentleman. It only made her feel worse. “Thanks.”

  A minute later she hung up, her throbbing foot the least of her worries. She deserved her throbbing foot. She deserved to be thumped over the head. She dropped back onto her pillows and threw her arm over her face.

  A knock sounded on her door. “Shay?”

  “Go away.”

  The door clicked open anyway, creaking on its hinges. “Everything okay?”

  “Peachy.”

  She had a broken foot, was accidentally married to a man who’d broken her heart, and she was stuck with him for months. She’d just hurt a perfectly nice man, and now Travis was going to find out just how destitute they really were.

  “It occurs to me we’ll need wedding bands,” he said.

  She hated to admit it, but he was right. It would seem odd if they didn’t. “I’ll wear my old one.”

  “I’ll buy new ones.”

  “No, Travis.” Last thing she wanted was his thinking this meant anything. “I’ll wear my old one. Can’t you borrow one from someplace?”

  His long pause exposed his disappointment. “I think my dad has an old one.”

  “Fine.” She wished he’d leave. Why was he still standing there?

  “Electricity’s out,” he said.

  Could her day get any worse? “You noticed.”

  “Tried the breakers in the barn, but they’re fine.”

  “The power company shut it off for lack of payment.”

  There. She’d said it. She reminded herself that the heat flooding her face wasn’t fatal. It only felt like it. At least he couldn’t see. Wait till he found out about all the back mortgage payments she owed.

  “Oh well, no sweat. I’ll take care of that when they open.”

  Why did he have to be so calm? So darned understanding? It would be easier if he dressed her down. Then she could get mad and slam a door or something.

  “In the meantime, I’ll get your generator running if you could point the way.”

  Because every ranch worth its salt has a generator. She exhaled loudly. “Don’t have one.”

  “All right. No problem. I’ll run home and get ours.”

  She was a worm. A worthless, fat, slimy, lowly worm. Wanted to close her eyes and sleep away the next five months.

  “You okay? Need your meds?”

  “I’m fine. Go get the generator,” she said, then realized she sounded like a shrew. “Please.”

  “Be back soon.”

  She listened to the sound of his footsteps, the sound of the front door clicking shut. That’s exactly what she was afraid of.

  16

  What are you doing?”

  Shay turned from the kitchen sink where she was washing tomatoes for their dinner salad.

  Frowning in the doorway, Travis removed his hat and set down a guitar case. His demanding tone of voice set her on edge.

  “Not exactly the ‘Honey, I’m home’ I expected. What’s that thing?”

  “I picked up guitar.”

  Of course he did. She wondered if he’d sit around picking the thing when there was work to be done, the way Garrett had. Wondered if he’d someday lose everyone he loved to music and illusions of stardom.

  “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

  Shay adjusted her balance on her new knee walker. “He said to stay off the foot, and I’m off.”

  Abigail had brought the walker over along with a Crock-Pot full of chicken. Bless the woman.

  “Shay, you need your rest.”

  “We may be stuck together, McCoy, but it’s my foot, and I’ll do as I please.” She resumed chopping the tomato. “Where’s Olivia?”

  “Washing up. Speaking of which . . .” He held out his hands. A layer of dirt caked his knees, and his hair needed a good washing.

  Olivia had only a small bathtub. The only shower in the house was in her master bath. Perfect.

  If her sigh sounded put-upon, so be it. “Use mine.”

  “Don’t want to be a bother.”

  “Olivia has a tub, so unless you want to soak in your own filth every night, my shower it is.”

  He grabbed his duffel and left the room. Moments later she heard her shower kick on. He was even now dropping his clothes onto her tile, stepping under the spray of her shower. This was not good. So not good. How was she going to get through 149 more nights like this?

  It would be easier when she could get around again. At least then she wouldn’t be trapped. She could go out at night, go over to Abigail’s or Aunt Lucy’s. Join the bridge club. Play Bingo on Thursdays. She banged her head against the cabinet.

  “Where’s Travis?”

  Shay turned. “You mean Mr. McCoy?”

  Olivia ran her fingers through her wet hair. “He said I could call him Travis.”

  Fine. She supposed there was no reason for formality when they were living together like this. “Can you set the table?”

  “Sure.”

  Her daughter went to work. It had been ages since that table was set for three. When she’d told Olivia the night before about the accidental wedding and their plan, her daughter had surprised her. She’d expected her to be put out. Instead, the girl thought the whole thing was very romantic. Romantic!

  Shay couldn’t think of a less fitting word. She quickly set Olivia straight, but that hadn’t dimmed the girl’s enthusiasm. Travis had made quite an impression on her daughter, and Shay didn’t like it one bit.

  What if Olivia became dependent on him? Started thinking of him as a father figure? It wasn’t healthy, that’s all there was to it. Yet what choice did she have? It was this or lose the ranch.

  She was setting out the ketchup when Travis emerged, damp and musky smelling from his shower, looking too broad and masculine in their little house.


  She pulled her eyes away. “Supper’s ready.”

  They sat at the square pine table, Travis taking the seat Garrett used to occupy as if he somehow knew it was the head of household’s rightful place. If it bothered Olivia, Shay couldn’t tell.

  “Travis can pray,” Olivia said, linking her hand with Shay’s automatically.

  Travis extended his hand to her. “Glad to.”

  She gave him a look—this means nothing—as she put her hand in his. His hand engulfed hers. It was warm and slightly damp from his shower. The calluses of his palm were softened from the water, and she was suddenly conscious of her own rough palms. Not the silky smooth skin he was undoubtedly used to on the women he courted.

  He’s not courting you, Shay.

  No, he was only married to her, for pity’s sake.

  “Dear Lord in heaven,” he began, “we thank You for this day and for Your bountiful blessings. We thank You for this fine meal and for the opportunity to renew old friendships.”

  Old friendships? Shay clenched her teeth.

  “Please be with us now and direct our steps, that all we do will bring glory to Your name. We ask this in Your name. Amen.”

  Shay pulled her hand, and Travis caught her rubbing it down her leg. Let him make of that what he liked. She wanted him under no illusions that they were picking up where they’d left off. Old friendships. Regardless of his intentions, she had a high, thick wall in place, and he wasn’t welcome on her side.

  Her foot was screaming now. She’d been upright for too long and had forgotten her last dose of meds. And she still needed to address her dire financial situation with Travis. It was shaping up to be a lovely evening.

  She poured ketchup on her plate and stabbed a piece of Abigail’s chicken.

  “You still eat ketchup on everything,” Travis said.

  “Not everything.”

  “Just meat,” Olivia added. “It’s gross when she puts it on turkey. Ick!”

  Shay made a face at her daughter.

  The meal hit the spot, and by the time Shay finished, she was bone weary. Travis and Olivia had kept up the conversation, but supper was winding down. It wasn’t even dark yet, and she longed to turn in. But she had to get her bills paid, especially the mortgage.

  “Olivia, do the dishes, please?” she asked.

  Her daughter stacked the plates and carried them to the sink with Travis’s help.

  Shay stood, balancing on the knee walker. A pain shot through her foot all the way to her knee. Where had she put her meds?

  Travis was there before she released the brake.

  “One or two?” He opened the bottle and shook some out.

  “Two.”

  “Thanks,” she said after she downed the pills.

  Bed. That’s all she wanted. But she might not get another chance to talk to him without Olivia nearby. It was humiliating enough to admit her financial crisis without her daughter knowing too.

  “Travis, we need to talk.”

  “Let’s get you settled first.”

  She followed him to her room, where he pulled back the bedding. “I can settle myself.”

  “No doubt.” He set the pill bottle and water on her table as she lowered her body onto the bed and propped her foot.

  She stifled a yawn. “We need to talk about money.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  If only it could wait. But the bank was starting foreclosure proceedings as they spoke.

  She choked back her pride. “I need to pay the mortgage soon.” Like three months ago. “I’m . . . a little behind.”

  Travis pulled the covers over her. She pushed them back down.

  “Relax. I took care of it this afternoon. Went into the bank—you’re all paid up. The electric’s paid up too. I set up a joint account, and if you tell me where your bills are, I’ll get those in the mail tomorrow.”

  “I can pay my own bills.” Okay, so she couldn’t really pay her own bills, but she wasn’t so useless she couldn’t sit down with a checkbook and calculator. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

  He didn’t deserve her ire. She should be more grateful. It just rankled to need his money. She’d never get out of this with her dignity intact.

  He smiled just a little. “Don’t know anyone less helpless than you, Shay.”

  She had mixed feelings about the joint account. What if she got used to this? When he was gone, the money would go too.

  “You don’t need to open your wallet like that.”

  “We’re married, after all.”

  “Well, it’s bound to be all over town by now, what with you setting up bank accounts.”

  His grin broadened. “Fine by me. Can’t wait to show off my new bride this weekend.”

  She nearly groaned. Was it just her, or did her foot seem suddenly too wrecked to even think about leaving the house?

  He flipped off the lamp. “Sleep tight.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Like she was going to do any sleeping at all with him all stretched out on her couch a mere ten feet away.

  17

  Why aren’t you dressed?” Travis asked as he entered the house.

  Shay took in his form, his nice yoked shirt tucked into the narrow waistband of his clean jeans, where a trophy buckle gleamed.

  “I am dressed.”

  “You’re wearing pj’s to the Fourth of July Festival?”

  Shay shifted her foot on the ottoman. “Who said I’m going?”

  Travis looked away, offering his profile. The afternoon light filtered through the window and flickered on his clenched jaw. “I get it, Shay. I do.” There was some look in his eyes that conflicted with the sharp tone of his voice. “You don’t want to be seen with me, but you’ve been—”

  “I have a broken—”

  “—hiding in this house all week so you don’t have to—”

  “I am not hiding.”

  “—face our adoring public. But you can’t hole up here for five months.”

  “It hurts.”

  “You’ve been wheeling all over the house on that thing.”

  Her breath heaved. Her foot did hurt, but she couldn’t deny she’d been up and around. A lot. There were things to do. He was already taking care of the ranch, she wasn’t letting him do her laundry and cleaning too.

  “I’m tired of explaining to everyone why my wife has yet to make an appearance. They’re gonna think I buried you out back or have you stuffed in the attic.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “Seriously.” His jaw twitched. “I want you to go with me today.”

  It wasn’t the foot and he knew it. Why was facing everyone so hard? Harder than a broken foot.

  “Not up to it yet,” she said. “All the people, all the questions. Pretending our marriage is real . . .”

  “It is real.”

  Why did he have to be so literal? “You know what I mean.”

  “I’ve already answered the questions. All you have to do is show up on my arm.” His voice had quieted. A lock of hair fell over his forehead. “Is that so hard?”

  The look in his gray eyes . . . cloudy with a chance of pain. She’d hurt his feelings. Seeing him standing there, all masculine and . . . built—she sometimes forgot he had feelings.

  Well, this wasn’t her fault. This whole marriage thing had been his idea.

  “Olivia’s waiting outside. She’ll be disappointed if you don’t go. And you have to face it sometime. Everyone’ll be there. You can get it all over with at once.”

  There would be a lot going on with the festivities. People would be distracted. Maybe they’d hardly notice she was with Travis.

  “Fine.” She lowered her foot and shot him a look just so he knew she wasn’t happy. “Give me twenty minutes.”

  The smile on Shay’s face felt as fake as the stitched grins on Miss Lucy’s dolls. No questions, my foot. How long has this been going on? Were you corresponding with Travis when he was in Texas? How did you keep such a secret?

 
; Evening had arrived, and the smell of fried pork and funnel cakes filled the town square. A country-and-western tune blared from the distant stage. Friends and families were spread out across the broad expanse of lawn, crowded around picnic tables and checkered tablecloths. Olivia had taken off with Maddy hours ago, and Shay and Travis hadn’t seen the girls since.

  They’d been lucky enough to score a picnic table on the town square. At least she’d thought it was luck when Ida Mae and Vern, friends of Miss Lucy’s, waved them over twenty minutes earlier.

  Now she wasn’t so sure. The older woman had been waxing poetic about the wedding reenactment like it was Shay’s Cinderella moment. Shay avoided Travis’s eyes, wished he weren’t sitting across from her.

  “And, oh my, that kiss . . .” Ida Mae fanned her pudgy cheeks. “I just knew it was real. I looked right over at Vern and said, ‘Vern, that kiss was for real!’ I did, just ask him.”

  “She did,” Vern said.

  Memories of the kiss surfaced, and Shay felt her face warm. Do not look.

  She took the last bite of her sandwich. Travis was probably eating up every minute of this bunk. Enjoying her misery. Do. Not. Look.

  She looked.

  His lips twitched, and his eyes sparkled like the fireworks that would go off later on the town square. He took a bite of his sandwich, holding her gaze.

  You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, McCoy?

  Every minute, his eyes replied.

  “You two always did know how to light up a room,” Ida Mae said. “Isn’t that something, you being back together. Just goes to show true love never dies. I always say that, don’t I, Vern?”

  “She does.”

  “And there is just something about that first love, you know, everyone says so . . .”

  Shoot me now.

  “The feelin’s are so strong, and you got all those hormones humming through your veins . . .” Her jowls shook as she nodded. “Remember that, Vern? All those feelin’s?”

  “Yep.”

  Any minute now the woman was going to bring up the past. Shay’s hands went clammy in her lap, and she looked around for an escape.

  “I can see them in you two clear as a bell, just clear as a bell, always have. I was so surprised when y’all didn’t elope. I was there when you stepped off that bus in that pretty little gown, remember, Shay? I took your hand, pulled you right into Pappy’s Market, and called your daddy for you—”