by Jane Porter
“Is everything to you, I know.” Sophie drew a slow breath. “So this is for him?”
Joe nodded. “And my mom. I think it’s important to her, too.”
“But we can still make it small and private, right? We’re not doing a formal reception. We’re not inviting lots of people. It’s you, me, and your immediate family, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay,” she sighed, defeated. “We’ll get married again, so they can be there, but I’m not buying a wedding gown, I’m not going to wear a veil—”
“You can’t wear that suit, though. You’ll need to get a new dress.”
“Joe!”
“I’m sorry. My grandfather’s old-fashioned. That sexy ivory suit would give him a heart attack.”
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, thinking this proposed wedding was already a mistake. “Fine, I’ll look for a simple, sweet, affordable dress.” She opened her eyes, fixed her gaze on him. “But it’s not going to be white, and not bridal, but something I can wear again.”
“Fine.”
*
Sunday morning after breakfast, Joe told Sophie to dress warmly. He was going to take her out on the property in his truck. “I thought you’d like to see some of the ranch.”
“I’d love that.” She ran upstairs to change, passing Joe’s mom in the hall. “Good morning, Mrs. Wyatt. How did you sleep?”
“I slept,” Joe’s mom answered. “How about you? Was it difficult in a strange bed? I never used to sleep well in other people’s beds.”
“I actually slept quite well. I loved the quilts on the bed. It was toasty warm.”
“The nights get cold up here.”
“It was chilly this morning when I woke up.” Sophie gestured to her outfit. When she’d gotten out of bed she’d pulled a sweater over her flannel pajamas and she’d put on fuzzy socks. “I might need to get some fleece-lined slippers.”
“You could find some at the Mercantile in Marietta.”
“I’ll check on Tuesday.” Sophie smiled and slipped into her room, thinking that hadn’t been such a bad conversation. In fact, Mrs. Wyatt had been almost maternal. Maybe things would improve now that Sophie was here.
Sophie loved the day spent with Joe out on the ranch. She got to see the cattle—or at least one big herd—as well as a lot of the Wyatt land. They headed off the road at one point, bouncing across a pasture so Joe could straighten a leaning fence post. Sophie sat in the truck watching him work, his body lean and powerful. She found it incredibly sexy watching him work. He was so comfortable in his body, so self-assured.
He’d brought apples, ham, cheese, and some day-old biscuits with them and they had a picnic sitting on his truck’s tailgate. They were high in the mountains, and the sun was shining brightly in the blue sky. A few clouds floated overhead. The view was amazing. The valley stretched below, the dark navy of the Yellowstone River just a glimmer against the green poplar trees. A hawk circled above them. Sophie tipped her head back to watch it, even as she listened to the breeze rustling the pine tree branches. “It’s so peaceful. You’re in God’s country up here.”
“Yes.” He turned his head and looked at her, his expression intent as he studied her. “Think you could be happy here?”
“Yes.”
“Your family is a long way away.”
“I can always get on a plane and go home if I feel the need.”
“Would you come back?”
She heard something in his voice, something unsure, and it was the first time she’d ever heard him sound unsure about anything. She put her hand on his denim-clad knee, and left it there. “I will always come back to you.” She patted his hard knee. “We’re a team now, you and me.”
“You are impossibly beautiful,” he said, his deep voice pitched even lower. “And strong and kind.”
“I wish I felt that way.”
Joe’s eyes met hers for a moment, and she saw heat in his blue eyes, heat and something she couldn’t define. Then he kissed her.
Sophie had been kissed, and she’d been kissed, but this… this wasn’t any kiss she’d ever known before. He gathered her against him, holding her firmly to him as his mouth took hers, claiming hers. The kiss was hot, fierce and intense. She could feel Joe’s hunger, feel his need. She’d known he was attracted to her, and she’d seen the desire in his eyes before, but as he pushed her back in his truck and stretched out over her, his mouth and body were telling her in no uncertain terms that she was his.
It was both heady and seductive, and her pulse drummed hot and fast, her body melting beneath his.
One day soon they’d consummate their marriage. One day soon she’d belong to him completely.
His hand slid through her long hair, before caressing her face. He knew just how to kiss her, knew just how to get her to sigh and want.
She wanted, and yet she still had so much fear… so much anxiety.
When would Joe realize he’d made a mistake?
When would he get tired of her?
And what would life be like on this ranch when he no longer needed her physically?
Suddenly her eyes were smarting and she felt a tear slip free. Joe felt it, too. He pulled back and gazed down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Just so many emotions,” she said, trying to smile despite the telltale tear. “Ignore me.”
“I’m not going to ignore you,” he said, wiping away the tear. “Why are you sad?”
“I worry you’ll get tired of me—”
“Never.”
“You can’t say that. You hardly know me.”
“How can I get tired of you? You’re mine.”
She reached up to touch his hard jaw with that tantalizing rasp of beard. He hadn’t shaved this morning and she liked it. “I got that from the kiss. You, Tarzan. Me, Jane.”
He looked surprised for a moment and then he reluctantly smiled. “That obvious?”
“I’m not complaining. That was probably the hottest, sexiest kiss of my life.”
He smoothed her long hair back from her face. “We’re just getting started. I wouldn’t even call that an appetizer.”
Her lips curved. “You make me smile.”
“Good. That’s the way it should be.”
And then he kissed her, gently, before drawing her up. “We should head back. Don’t want anyone wondering what happened to us.”
*
On Tuesday Joe stopped by the Wright Salon, bringing her lunch. “What are you doing?” she asked, darting a glance into the salon where Amanda was working. Joe and Amanda had yet to meet face-to-face since Sophie had started at the hair salon.
“Mom’s in the car. She has her doctor’s appointment today but I thought you might like lunch. It’s chicken salad. If you don’t want the bread, there’s a fork in there so you can pick the chicken part out.”
Sophie stepped around the front desk and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “That is so nice of you. I wish you could stay and have lunch with me but I know you’re in a hurry. Hopefully, the doctor will have something she can try to help with her pain.”
He kissed her goodbye, the brush of his lips sending a delicious shiver up and down her spine. Then he was gone, walking out the door of the salon. Sophie’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him walk.
Her new husband was ridiculously sexy.
“He’s matured nicely,” Amanda drawled from the doorway.
Sophie blushed and looked at Amanda, unable to hide her smile. “He’s pretty cute, isn’t he?”
“The Wyatt brothers all inherited the handsome gene. Every one of them is good-looking. Charity used to say that she and Joe would make the prettiest babies in Crawford County—” Amanda caught herself, and broke off. “Sorry. That wasn’t appropriate.”
“It’s fine. You have your own history with Joe and the rest of the Wyatts.”
“Seeing as I put my foot into it, let me just add that you and Joe will make really pretty babies, too. Pretty and feisty. Neithe
r you nor Joe are a pushover. I have a feeling your kids will be born with a spine of steel.”
Sophie returned to the ranch late afternoon and did a load of laundry before returning to the kitchen to start dinner. Joe usually met her there once he was done with his work.
In the kitchen, in the middle of the long pine breakfast table was a stack of bridal magazines.
Sophie nudged the stack. There were three different magazines, the latest edition of Modern Bride, Montana Bride, and Western Weddings. Sophie quickly restacked them and then seasoned the roast before putting it in the oven, but the entire time she prepared the meat, she was terribly aware of the magazines.
When Joe joined her to make the mashed potatoes, Sophie pointed to the magazines. “Where did those come from?”
“Mom bought them when we were in town today.”
“Why?”
“I think you know why.”
“I don’t need bridal magazines,” Sophie said lowly, standing at the sink, side by side with Joe while they both peeled the potatoes.
“They’re not for you, they’re for her,” he answered.
“Why does she want magazines?”
“To see what the trends are now. She’s curious.” He reached for the final potato, able to peel two for her every one. “I’m sure your mom looked at magazines when you were planning your wedding.”
Sophie opened her mouth, then closed it. There was no point arguing with him, because yes, her mom had looked at magazines, and gone to a wedding trade show, and sat there while Sophie interviewed a wedding planner.
“There’s nothing to stress about,” he said, chopped up the potatoes on a cutting board, knife slamming against the board. “She’s just happy for us.”
Sophie didn’t have to look at the set of his jaw to know he was working to contain his temper. She could hear it in every hard chop of his knife. Joe wasn’t happy, but she didn’t know if he wasn’t happy with her, or with his mom’s interference. Either way, Sophie wasn’t going to say anything, at least, not tonight. Tempers were already running high.
It only took one night at the Wyatt’s to discover the family’s habit was to listen to the national news after dinner. Joe would record it, and then they’d all gather in the family room to watch the news together after dishes were done.
Tonight, as Sophie took her seat on the couch in the family room, she spotted a printed checklist of wedding to-dos next to Mrs. Wyatt’s armchair.
Sophie eyed the checklist nervously, as that particular list came from a popular wedding website. She’d used that detailed list to help her plan her wedding to Leo. Just seeing the distinctive font and layout with all the little boxes to be marked made her nauseous.
Sophie struggled to concentrate on the news, but found herself sneaking glances at Mrs. Wyatt who was casually leafing through Montana Bride.
The checklist.
The bridal magazines.
The folder with pictures on Mrs. Wyatt’s lap.
By the time the news wrapped up, Sophie was in agony. What was Mrs. Wyatt doing? What kind of wedding was she imagining?
Another half hour passed, and suddenly Sophie couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “What are you looking at?” she asked Joe’s mother, her voice not quite steady.
“Photographs from a wedding north of Livingston, in Clyde Park. They had the reception in a barn,” Mrs. Wyatt said, turning the magazine around and flashing the full-page spread at Sophie.
Sophie saw green and gold and a smiling bride being swirled around by a handsome cowboy groom.
“Do you know them?” Sophie asked.
“Oh no, just getting ideas,” Mrs. Wyatt answered, briefly glancing at Sophie over the top of the glossy magazine before resuming her reading. “I think a barn wedding could be really charming.”
Sophie’s hands knotted in her lap. She told herself to be calm. Everything would be fine—if she cleared the air, and adjusted expectations. “Ideas for what?” she asked carefully.
“Why, your wedding.”
Sophie darted a glance at Joe but he appeared lost in his columns and calculations. She sensed he was deliberately lost, choosing to be obtuse so that she had to handle this instead of him. “Joe and I are thinking we’re just going to get married by a justice of the peace in Marietta. We already have the blood test results, and all our paperwork.”
Mrs. Wyatt turned another page, her gaze seemingly riveted to whatever was on it. “You don’t want a minister?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary. Neither of us attend a church here—”
“But you don’t have to attend a particular congregation here. A number of the local clergy will perform the ceremony, whether at their church, or at another location.” Mrs. Wyatt tapped her iPad and opened a fresh window. “The Methodist and Lutheran ministers both would. I know, because I spoke with them yesterday. The trickiest part would be finding a date that works in their calendar. Obviously, the further out, the more available.” She smiled brightly. “Joe, could you scoot down on the couch so we can talk without having to shout?”
She waited for Joe to shift closer to Sophie. “We need to make some decisions tonight,” she said. “I’m concerned we won’t be able to get everything done if we don’t start making decisions. I’m happy to call and book things, but I need to know what our approximate head count is going to be. Getting the head count is important because it influences everything we do, from the number of invitations we order, to the venue, to the size of the cake.” Summer glanced from Sophie to Joe and back to Sophie. “I have a list of people I want to include, and it’s approximately seventy-five people—”
“Seventy-five people?” Joe interrupted. “Mom, we have a family of six, with no cousins or aunts and uncles to speak of. Where are you getting seventy-five guests from?”
“Our rancher neighbors. The MacCreadies, Carrigans, Sheenans, Vaughns, Hollises, Douglases, Tates… oh dear, who am I forgetting?”
“About six more families. But, Mom, you can’t invite every ranching neighbor.”
“Why not? They’re always looking out for us, and it’s time we included them in something. We spend too much time only worrying about ourselves.”
“That’s because we’re a little bit removed overlooking Pray.”
“Even better. And don’t you want them to meet Sophie? That way they know who she is and can keep an eye out for her.”
“Put that way, yes, fine.”
Mrs. Wyatt looked at Sophie. “Now you come from a large family so we could easily be inviting twenty-five to thirty people, right?”
Sophie shook her head. “No. I’m not inviting my family. It’s a long way to come. It’d be at least two flights for most, and that gets expensive.”
“No one? Not even your mother and father?”
“My father passed away a couple years ago and my mom doesn’t travel on her own.”
“What about brothers or sisters? Couldn’t one of them bring your mother?”
“Not on short notice.”
“What about friends?” Mrs. Wyatt persisted.
Sophie felt Joe’s hand slip into hers and give a faint squeeze. She gave a squeeze back, grateful for the gesture of support. “I think it would be difficult for people to come from California on such short notice, and I’m good with that. I really would prefer a small, simple ceremony without any fuss.”
Mrs. Wyatt looked baffled. “Surely, there is at least one person you’d like to invite?”
Sophie thought of her family, and then her colleagues from Brazer Farms. Her family and her work were so intertwined, there was no way to separate one from the other, not anymore. “Maybe I could invite some of the girls from the salon in Marietta. Amanda had already offered to do my hair, so maybe she and her husband could be included?”
“Charity’s sister?”
“Sophie works for Charity’s sister, yes,” Joe said. “I think that’s a great idea to have Amanda and her husband come.”
Mrs. W
yatt looked at them for a long moment before slowly, laboriously typing notes on her iPad. She then turned to her son. “Joe, what about you? I’ve already put your brothers on the list, but wasn’t sure which of your friends you’d want to invite.”
“I don’t really have anyone to invite, either,” he answered. “I’ve lost touch with most of the guys I went to school with. I’d probably just invite Sam, Billy, and Tommy. They’re my best friends.”
“I can’t believe there’s no one else,” she said.
“Lots of the neighbors you’re inviting are my friends. If I happen to think of anyone else, I promise to tell you.”
Mrs. Wyatt looked down at her iPad and scrutinized her list. “So ninety people roughly? Twenty-five to thirty invites?”
Sophie gripped Joe’s hand hard. He just gave her a faint shrug.
“Mrs. Wyatt,” Sophie said as calmly as she could, “that’s a lot of people. Maybe too many people?”
“That’s just who we’re inviting,” Mrs. Wyatt answered. “Who knows how many will actually come?”
*
The rest of the week passed and Sophie was ambivalent about the weekend. She was looking forward to being off work Sunday and Monday, but she had a feeling Mrs. Wyatt would be keeping her plenty busy discussing this proposed wedding.
She cornered Joe in the kitchen Saturday morning where he was reheating a cup of coffee. “Joe, you have to help me. We didn’t want a big reception. We were happy with how we got married. I think we’re just going to have to tell your mom we’re already married.”
“Have you seen my mom’s expression? Have you seen how happy she is? She’s on cloud nine. Who knew that planning a wedding was all she’s ever wanted to do?”
“But we don’t need a wedding. We don’t need a party. We don’t need all this fuss.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, and tipped her head back to look into his face. “Please tell me we aren’t really going to do this.”
Joe’s arms circled her, his hands low on her back. “Would it be such an awful thing to have a second ceremony? Would it be the end of the world to have this reception?”
“Joe.”
He shrugged. “I don’t get the whole wedding hoopla myself, but she’s having so much fun.”
