by Jane Porter
Her gaze traveled up, over his broad chest, wide shoulders, to his hard jaw and very firm lips. “What do you want to talk about then?” she asked, sounding breathless to her own ears.
“You.”
“I don’t want to talk about me,” she answered huskily.
“Then maybe we just don’t talk,” he said, dipping his head and capturing her mouth with his.
She felt right in his arms, Joe thought, his hand on Sophie’s hip, sliding up her back, bringing her even closer so that her full soft breasts pressed against his chest. He could smell a vanilla scent and wasn’t sure if it was her skin or her hair but it made him feel even hungrier.
It had been forever since he’d felt this alive, this carnal.
She felt right on his lap, in this kitchen, in this house. In his life.
He broke the kiss off to look at her, wanting to see her, this woman who would soon be his wife.
Her cheeks had darkened, the soft skin flushed pink. Her eyes had darkened, too, but this close, he could see the brown irises were flecked with bright bits of gold. Her lips were slightly swollen. She was breathing hard. He could see the little pulse race at the base of her throat. He dropped his head, kissed her there, and then scraped his teeth along the side of her neck.
She whimpered and arched against him. The helpless shift of her hips made him nearly groan. It had been years since he’d been with anyone and suddenly his control was being tested.
A sharp rap came from the door to the dining room. Joe looked up. His mom stood in the doorway, leaning on her cane. “Billy just called. They were hoping to come home next weekend for Easter but it’s not going to work out after all. Not sure about Sam.”
Sophie had tried to jump off his lap, but Joe wouldn’t let her go. “I’ll give Billy a call after I drop Sophie off.”
His mom’s lips thinned but she said nothing else, just turned around and slowly walked out.
Sophie sat stiffly in his arms after his mom left the kitchen. “Maybe it’s time you took me back,” she whispered.
“You’re fine here.”
She drew a ragged breath. “If it’s okay with you, I think I’d rather go.”
Chapter Five
They didn’t end up getting married on Tuesday as they’d planned because early Tuesday morning while heading to the barn Joe’s grandfather slipped on a patch of black ice, and went down face first, bruising his temple and slicing up his cheekbone, requiring a couple of stitches. Fortunately, Granddad didn’t like to be fussed over and after taking it slow the rest of Tuesday he just wanted to get back to work on Wednesday, telling Joe to stop hovering over him like an old woman.
It was all Joe could do to not roll his eyes. “I’m not hovering,” he said to his grandfather. “I’m just wanting you to not do too much today. I’m supposed to head into Marietta—”
“Then go.”
“But I can put it off another day, if I’m needed here.”
His grandfather snorted. “You’re not needed here. I might be eighty-two but I’m not in need of a nursemaid.”
“I don’t even know what a nursemaid is, Granddad.”
“Maybe you should read more.”
Joe grinned. “I think you’re feeling just fine.”
“I told you.” Melvin adjusted his leather work gloves. “I imagine your rush to town is to see Sophie.”
Joe’s eyes narrowed, wondering what was to come. “It is.”
“Good. Don’t let your mom scare her away. I like her. She’s good for you. You look happier.”
“I am happier.”
“Your mom will come around. She’s just afraid. She hasn’t had an easy life. She never got over your dad, and I respect that but sometimes I feel guilty that I didn’t encourage her to get out and date and find someone else to love. You boys are all she has. You’re her world. She worries, and maybe obsesses, but when she sees you’re happy, she’ll be happy.”
Joe nodded, chest tight, a lump thickening in his throat. His grandfather was right. Despite her own heartbreak, she always tried to make everything perfect for those around her. That was why he didn’t want his mom to know that Sophie had answered an ad, and that he was embarking on a marriage of convenience. She wouldn’t approve, which was why he fully intended to let her believe he’d found love. It was what she wanted for him, and so what if he found it on the internet? The fact was, he wanted a family, and Mom would adore having grandchildren.
Back in the house, Joe headed upstairs to shower and dress.
As he finished polishing his boots, he glanced up at the framed buckles on the wall, buckles won during his time on the rodeo circuit. He paused to take in the dozens of glittering silver and gold buckles. He’d been a good bronc rider, and he could stick a bull for eight seconds, but he’d been a great team roper.
He and his brother Sam had been an almost unbeatable team, winning big money together. He’d enjoyed traveling with his brothers on the circuit, too, but when Granddad said he needed one of them home to take on the responsibilities of the ranch, Joe had to be the one to give up traveling and competing. He was the oldest. It was his job to step up and take on the mantle of ranch foreman. He’d grown up on the ranch so it wasn’t as if he was a stranger to it, either. But it had been good to get away from Paradise Valley for a couple of years and just live on the road. Free. Unencumbered. He loved his grandfather and Mom but they were both so serious, so weighted by grief that it was hard to breathe sometimes… hard to remember he wasn’t an old man. The open road, the rodeo circuit, the company of cowboys, had been such a relief. But he’d been home now for almost six years. Fulfilling his role as the oldest son, assuming the mantle of the Wyatt heir.
He had an odd relationship with the ranch, not exactly love and hate, but sometimes it came close. Because the ranch was an anchor. He was tied to the land, tied to the acreage and boundaries and seasons. He’d never lived anywhere else. He’d grow old and die here.
That was the heaviest part of the anchor, the part that weighed him down.
He would have given up the ranch for Charity if he could have. He’d loved her so much he would have turned the world inside out for her, and if it had only been him, he would have done it. But to turn his world inside out meant he’d turn his mother and granddad’s world inside out, too, and how could he do that to them?
How could he choose to be so selfish?
His grandfather had taken them all in, and taken care of them for the past twenty some years, paying all the bills, providing stability, security and leadership. Granddad was strong and determined. He was not going to let his son’s widow and boys suffer, and overnight he’d become a surrogate father, attending all their school events with their mom, and teaching them the things their dad would have taught them. Granddad loved them fiercely, so fiercely that Joe couldn’t disappoint him by walking away from his legacy at the ranch. It would break Granddad’s heart. And so Joe let Charity go, even though it hollowed out his heart.
Fortunately, Charity had moved on, finding love with Quinn Douglas, another rancher’s son who’d become a Major League Baseball player, and was living her best life in Seattle.
Joe folded the cloth into the shoeshine box and put the kit back into his closet before putting on his boots. And Joe was going to have his best life, too. Sophie was waiting and from this moment on, there would be no looking back, no regrets. By noon today he’d be a married man.
*
Sophie’s heart raced. Her hands weren’t steady as she finished applying her mascara. It was her wedding day, at last.
She wasn’t wearing a bridal gown, though. Instead, she’d brought a fitted ivory blazer with a pair of wide-legged ivory silk trousers from California for the wedding. The trousers were long and she needed high heels to keep the hem from dragging on the ground, but even in her four-inch bone heels, Joe would still be a full head taller.
She was downstairs, waiting for him, when he arrived. “You look beautiful,” he said, as he entered
the formal living room at Bramble House.
Her cheeks warmed. He always sounded so sincere when he gave a compliment. “You look nice, too.”
And he did. He was wearing a dark jacket over a white collared shirt, with dark denims and dressy cowboy boots. The fit of his jacket made his broad shoulders ever wider and his hips even narrower.
The man had a body, she’d give him that.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded. “I have all the paperwork in my purse.”
“You don’t want a coat?”
“It’s nice out. I think I’ll be okay.”
*
She was more than okay. Sophie looked gorgeous—sexy—in the slinky ivory suit. She wasn’t wearing a blouse that he could see beneath the fitted blazer and the plunging neckline revealed so much smooth skin he doubted she was even wearing a bra. It wasn’t a normal daytime look for Marietta and yet she looked smoking hot. He admired her confidence, too. She had style, and she always turned heads.
She’d certainly turned his.
“I should have brought you flowers,” he said, feeling a stab of regret. “Shouldn’t you have flowers?”
“It’s a courthouse wedding.”
“Yes, but don’t brides need a bouquet?”
“You don’t have a boutonniere.”
“I don’t really like wearing flowers.”
Her lips twitched. “Now there’s a shocker.”
Her mouth was wide and full and as sexy as the rest of her. He wanted to kiss her; he wanted to feel her mouth and body against his, if only to reassure himself that this would work out, that everything would be okay.
Instead, he walked her to the truck and held the door for her before climbing behind the steering wheel and starting the engine.
As he drove the short distance to the courthouse, he refused to think about anything other than keeping to the speed limit, because he didn’t know how to marry this way. Didn’t know how to get hitched without his brothers here. Didn’t know how to do this without his mom or granddad, either. Everyone would have plenty to say once they learned what happened today.
It hadn’t ever been his dream to marry this way. He and Charity—
Joe stopped himself there. No looking back. No comparisons. No regrets. There was only today, and today, Sophie Correia, in her sleek cream suit with her long dark hair and bright shining eyes was going to be his wife.
He should have brought her flowers. If she was going to marry at the courthouse, she should at least have something fragrant and pretty to hold.
*
Sophie’s pulse raced as she watched the clerk process their paperwork.
Sophie, who had been the one to press for the wedding, felt increasingly emotional, but she couldn’t cry here in the Crawford County Courthouse, and certainly not now. This was what she wanted. Commitment. Marriage. The new life in a new family.
And yet, for the first time since leaving Central California, she missed her family. It seemed wrong to marry without any of them here, and yet none of them would support what she was doing. Her dad especially would be horrified. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t alive anymore. It had always been her dream to have him walk her down the aisle. She had been such a daddy’s girl. He’d spoiled her and Sarah rotten.
Sophie reached up and surreptitiously wiped beneath her lashes, drying the moisture with trembling fingertips. No, Dad would not like her marrying a stranger, but he also would not have liked what Leo had done. Her dad had liked Leo. A lot. He used to say Leo was another son to him. Maybe it was just as well that Dad wasn’t here.
Sophie’s chest tightened and she blinked, drying her eyes. There was no reason to cry. Today was a happy day. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.
The clerk glanced up and smiled. “I think that’s all the paperwork,” she said. “Judge Whitford is waiting for you. Just go up to the second floor, his office suite is on the right side of the elevator.”
They climbed the stairs rather than take the elevator and Joe gave her a brief nod before they entered the office suite. She nodded back. They were doing this. She wanted this, even if she was emotional.
The ceremony itself took no time at all, the vows quickly said, then declaring them married even more quickly spoken. More signatures were required afterward, with the judge’s secretary promising to return the documents to the clerk downstairs. “We’ll mail you the official copy in the next few days.”
“Sounds good,” Joe answered.
“Do you two have fun plans for the rest of the day?” the secretary asked hopefully.
“We haven’t discussed it,” Joe said gruffly.
“What about your honeymoon? Surely you’ve discussed that.”
Sophie darted a glance at Joe. His expression was shuttered and she sensed he was growing uncomfortable and so she stepped in. “It’s a surprise,” Sophie said brightly. “We’re going to go after Easter. Cheaper flights when spring break is over.”
“Oh, that’s sensible.” The secretary sat back down. “Hope it’s a good one. A beautiful bride deserves a little romance.”
Sophie smiled and followed Joe out of the office and into the hall. He was silent as they descended the staircase to the lobby, but chivalrous as he opened the front door for her. She shot him a side glance as they stepped into the bright spring sunshine. Joe was so quiet. He was almost always quiet, but his silence felt different now. The silence stretched as they walked down the brick steps. Her heart thumped. Her high heels clicked against the brick. The breeze swirled pink petals across the sidewalk. She was careful not to step on them.
She was married.
And numb.
Maybe it was shock, because she didn’t feel anything. She didn’t feel grateful, or scared, or even relieved.
And then he reached for her hand and held it firmly. “I didn’t even think about a honeymoon,” he said lowly. “I’m sorry.”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “I never once imagined we’d have a honeymoon.”
He stopped in front of his truck and faced her. “You deserve more than you’re getting.”
“I’m getting you,” she answered, facing him, her gaze sweeping his hard, handsome features, seeing the shadows in his clear blue eyes. “Please don’t worry. I’m good. I’m happy. I hope you’re happy.”
“I just keep thinking that a quickie wedding isn’t fair to you. Leo ruined your December wedding and now—”
“Now I’m your wife.” She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly. “And I wouldn’t be here now if I’d married him, so we should be glad Leo dumped me. Otherwise you would have married some other desperate woman and she might not be as wonderful as me.”
For a moment Joe’s expression was blank and then he laughed, bringing Sophie close. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. “You’re right; I got lucky.”
“Sooo lucky,” she teased.
He kissed her forehead and then stepped back. “Should we go celebrate somewhere? Go to the Graff and order champagne with our lunch?”
“Don’t you have work waiting? Especially with your grandfather hurt?”
“Granddad is fine. And it’s our wedding day. We have to do something to celebrate, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
The Graff’s formal dining room had just a few guests seated when they arrived, and they were given their pick of tables. Sophie wanted to sit near one of the arched windows with a view of the garden gazebo. Joe ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon when the waiter approached their table.
With their champagne flutes filled, Joe lifted a glass. “To my new wife, Sophie Wyatt.”
She blushed and clinked rims with his flute. “May we have many, many happy years,” she added.
They toasted again and drank again. And after they ordered their meal, Sophie sat back in her chair. “We did it,” she said, smiling, before biting into her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. She felt keyed up, overly excited, and she knew it was nerves, b
ut also something else. Maybe hope? A hint of happiness?
“Yes, we did.”
She twirled her delicate glass on the tablecloth. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a little crazy,” he admitted.
“I do, too. But maybe it’s good to be a little crazy. At least we’re proactive; we’re going after life, not waiting for it to find us.”
“By all accounts, my parents were a little crazy. Mom met Dad while he was competing on the rodeo circuit, and they fell for each other right away. They were practically kids when they married, Dad was just twenty-three, and Mom was nineteen. Rumor has it they married quickly in Vegas when they realized she was pregnant. I don’t think her parents would have thrown her out. My mom’s parents weren’t religious, or particularly strict, but Wyatts don’t walk away from their responsibilities, and if Mom was pregnant, Dad was going to do right by her—and their baby.”
“Which was you,” Sophie said.
“Which was me,” he agreed.
She lifted her flute. “Let’s toast your parents. To your mom and your dad. I hope your dad, if he’s looking down from heaven, is happy.”
“To Mom and Dad,” he repeated.
They spent an hour eating and visiting, ending their meal with a three-layer chocolate cake, which they shared, before returning to Joe’s truck. “I wish I could stay with you all day,” he said. “But Granddad—”
“I understand.”
He nodded, and opened the passenger door for her. “We probably should talk about the next steps, though.”
Sophie waited until he’d settled behind the steering wheel to ask, “You mean, telling everyone? Moving me to the ranch?”
“Yes.”
She hesitated. “Do we have to do that right away? Can we just enjoy a little bit of time as newlyweds before the world has to know?”
“You’re worried about my mom.”
“I’ve made a commitment to you. We’re going to make this work. But maybe we take it slowly for everyone else.”
He started the truck and backed out of the hotel parking lot. “How slowly?”
