by Jane Porter
Amanda had no idea how accurate her words were, because Joe was already Sophie’s husband, even though it was in name only.
It felt weird having a husband that wasn’t totally her husband.
It felt weird marrying someone without getting intimate.
It felt weird getting married to someone she really didn’t know.
It felt weird to be living in Montana.
It felt weird not to have her own place anymore.
In short, nothing felt normal or familiar or comfortable. And there was nothing Sophie could do but deal with it, and learn to get comfortable with the uncomfortable.
*
Something was off with Sophie. She’d been unusually quiet at dinner, and had barely eaten anything, using her fork to move food from one section to another.
When the meal ended, she stood and began to gather the plates, but she didn’t look at him and made no eye contact with anyone.
Joe frowned, worried. “You’re not coming down sick, are you?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Nothing’s going around at the salon?”
“No.” She finally glanced up but her gaze only met his for a split second before shying away. “Why?”
“You just seem… off.”
“I feel fine,” she said, carrying the plates to the sink and setting them on the counter while she filled the sink with hot water.
“You hardly said a word tonight.”
“I just have things on my mind.”
“Like what?”
She added a squirt of dish soap to the hot water. “I was thinking I’ve been in Montana three weeks now.” She flashed him a half smile, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “A lot has changed in three weeks.”
He eased the drinking glasses into the hot soapy water. “Is that why you’ve been in a mood all week?”
“I’ve been in a mood?”
“Yes. Everyone’s noticed.”
She faced him, hands on her hips. “Just who is everyone?”
“The point is, if you’re upset, you should talk to me.”
“We’d have to actually spend time together for that to happen.”
Joe could feel his temper stirring. “What does that mean?”
“I came here for you. I came to Montana for you. But we’re never really alone, not unless we’re cooking dinner or doing dishes.”
“Because there’s the wedding to plan—”
“But I didn’t want the wedding. I wanted you.”
“Is that why you’re upset? Because of the wedding? If so, let’s just call the whole thing off—”
“Now you say that! But this isn’t about the wedding, Joe, it’s about us. There is no us. It’s just work, and then the news, and then bed, and then we do the same thing the next day, and the next day.”
“That is life on a ranch,” Joe said, gathering the silverware from the table and dumping it into the sink, feeling blindsided by the attack. “It’s not all fun and games—”
“I don’t expect fun and games. But I would like more of a relationship with you!”
“I don’t get it. I’m here. All the time.”
“But we don’t have alone time. We don’t do things, just the two of us.”
He said nothing and she turned away, and attacked the first of the dishes. “Are you happy with the way things are?” she asked after a long minute as she scrubbed a plate. “Because it doesn’t seem like it to me.”
He turned away from her, battling to tamp down his frustration. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t like conflict. He hadn’t married Sophie to have drama, either.
For several minutes, they both worked in silence, Sophie washing, while he transferred leftovers to Tupperware containers. He carried the empty casserole dishes to the sink. “Move over,” he said gruffly. “I’ve got this. You go.”
“Go where?” she asked helplessly. “I have nowhere to go. I have no one here in Montana but you.”
The crack in her voice made his chest tighten and ache. He’d tried hard to help her settle in, tried hard to let her know she was wanted here, but if she wasn’t happy, what else could he do? What more did she need? “I don’t know. To your room? To read a magazine, take a bath, maybe go take a walk—”
“You’re not stuck with me, you know.” She choked, facing him, tears shimmering in her eyes. “It’s not a done deal, yet. You can get out of this—”
He closed the distance between them, his voice dropping. “You’re giving up like that? You want a divorce already?”
She dropped her voice, too. “I’m just saying no one knows—”
“I know.”
“And I know, too, but I’m realizing that the only reason you’re getting married in the first place is to make your mom happy, and that, my friend, is not the reason to get married!”
“What about you?”
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
“You’re marrying me because your heart was broken in December and instead of trying to get out there and meet someone new, you just answer an ad—”
“Yes, your ad!”
“But you’re not who you pretended to be.”
“I’m not?”
He huffed a breath. “You’re emotional. You’re sensitive. You’re full of feelings and you’re the last woman who should agree to a practical, businesslike marriage.”
“But that is what I want—”
“Stop. Be honest. You want romance. You want flowers—”
“I wouldn’t turn down flowers, or another nice dinner date. I’d enjoy a fun cocktail at a swanky restaurant, but I also enjoy just driving around with you in your truck. I loved eating cheese stuffed in a cold biscuit sitting on the back of your tailgate and watching a hawk circle overhead. That was fun. This, fighting with you, isn’t fun.”
“Do you know what I want?” he retorted. “I’d like to carry you upstairs and strip off your clothes and spend all night learning your body. I want to see you and feel you and do things to you that would make your mother blush. But instead we’re planning a wedding neither of us want, just to make other people happy. We’re doing dishes because there’s no one else here to do them. We’re being mature adults even though it’s boring and unsatisfying, because sometimes life is just boring and unsatisfying.”
“But we don’t have to be boring and unsatisfying.”
“So what do you want? Right now, what do you want to do?”
“Let’s go find a private corner somewhere and be alone.”
“If we end up alone, I’m going to take your clothes off, and do things to you. You good with that?”
She wrinkled her nose as if to disagree, but her voice wasn’t quite steady. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you, Sophie, want to be married, but I’m just not sure you want to be married to me.”
She took a step back. Her lips parted but no sound came out.
“I think you’re still hung up on Leo,” he added quietly.
She shook her head. “That is so not true!”
“Then why don’t you trust me?”
“I do trust you.”
“Why don’t you talk more about your family and your life in California then? I’m an open book. You’re here with us, you see me, you know me, but there is still so much I don’t know about you.”
“Joe, I’ve told you almost everything. My family are dairy people. My dad died several years ago. My mom still lives on the dairy farm in her own house. My older brother runs the business now—”
“And Sarah?”
Sophie stilled. “What about Sarah?”
“Why don’t you answer her texts? Why don’t you ever speak to her? I’ve seen her messages. She misses you—”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“Then tell me!”
“As soon as you tell me about Charity, and why it’s been… oh, five years or more since you dated. Did she break your heart that badly?”
A low clearin
g of the throat from the doorway was enough to silence them both. Sophie froze, uncertain how long Joe’s grandfather had been standing there.
Melvin Wyatt looked from one to the other, expression giving away nothing. “We’ve been waiting to turn on the news. If you’re not interested…”
“I’m interested,” Joe said tightly. “We haven’t finished the dishes, though.”
“Hard to finish when you haven’t even started,” Melvin answered.
“Give us just a minute, Granddad. We’ll get these done in no time,” Joe said.
“Leave them alone,” Melvin said. “They can wait, as I have a feeling you’ll just start bickering again if left in here to your own devices.”
Sophie could tell Joe was embarrassed that they’d been caught fighting, and she was embarrassed, too, but when Joe stalked out of the room without another word to her, Sophie wanted to throw something at him.
Instead, she dried her hands, and waited a moment for her pulse to slow, and then she followed, taking her usual seat on the couch, but tonight placing a pillow between her and Joe.
He glanced at her, arched a brow.
She made a face and turned to stare at the TV screen.
Melvin settled in his leather recliner. “Are we good now?”
“We’re good,” Joe said shortly.
“Just great,” Sophie added brightly.
The national news was filled with breaking headlines and concerns about the national and global economy. There were stories about rising oil prices, political races, and frightening viruses. And Sophie listened, but could tell that this evening Joe’s mom was watching them rather than the evening news.
As the program wrapped up, Mrs. Wyatt took the remote and muted the TV. “Is this really what you’re going to do tonight? Just sit here, again tonight?”
Joe glanced up, brow creasing. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
“You two act like an old married couple already. You’ll have plenty of time for that later, when you are an old married couple. Why don’t you dress up and head into town? Have a proper date night. You haven’t had a date since Sophie moved in.”
“It’s okay,” Sophie said. “We’re happy here with you.”
Mrs. Wyatt focused her attention on Joe. “Sophie’s come a long way to see you, Joe. She doesn’t want to just be cooped up at the house. Go to Marietta, go to Livingston. Have dinner. See a movie. Take her dancing. Have fun.”
“I’ve things I need to do here, Mom, and Sophie’s happy just relaxing at the house. She’s worked all week in town—”
“Sophie, what do you normally do on a Friday night in California?” Summer interrupted, turning to focus on Sophie now.
Sophie saw Joe’s jaw tighten. “It depends, but I would probably get together with my girlfriends and we’d go get dinner, or meet for drinks.”
“You’d get out of the house.”
Sophie hesitated a fraction of a second. “Yes.”
Joe sighed, clearly annoyed. “But she’s not home with her friends, Mom. She’s here with me, and you, and she’s enjoying being here. She knows I don’t run around a lot. She wasn’t expecting nonstop entertainment.”
“What about any entertainment?” Summer retorted. “You’re not making any effort. You’re acting like she’s already married. But Sophie is a beautiful young woman, and young women like to be spoiled and fussed over, especially when they’ve traveled thousands of miles to see their man.” She gave her son a meaningful look. “And she’s not going to want to stick around, Joe, if you can’t make an effort to treat her the way she deserves to be treated.”
Joe stood up, his boots heavy on the floor. “Fine. We’ll go out, do something, even though we’re perfectly happy being here—”
“Sophie,” Mrs. Wyatt interrupted, “are you happy being here, every night, all the time?”
Sophie’s mouth opened, closed. She glanced at Joe and then back to his mom. “Joe’s right. I am a homebody,” she answered carefully.
“You don’t like going to dinner, or out to hear music? You wouldn’t enjoy listening to live music at Grey’s?”
When Sophie didn’t immediately answer, Mrs. Wyatt continued, “Just realize you’re setting a precedent now. You’re setting expectations for the future. If Joe thinks he never needs to take you out, if he thinks you don’t enjoy a date night, or being treated special, then you’ll be sitting in this room every night for the rest of your life.” She gave Sophie a meaningful look. “I’ve spent the twenty-six past years in this room, night after night. If you can get out, and you’d like to get out, do it. Make Joe spoil you. Every woman should be spoiled now and then.”
*
There was no staying in after that. Joe and Sophie changed and, grabbing their coats, headed out to Joe’s truck, dogs running ahead of them.
They didn’t talk for the first five minutes, and then exchanged only a few words when Joe turned down the radio to ask if she was warm enough. Sophie replied that she was fine.
They drove for another ten minutes, and then Joe sighed and turned the radio off. “This is not going to be a fun date night,” he said curtly.
“No, it’s not. Maybe we should go back.”
He made a low, rough sound deep in his chest. “And deal with my mom? No, thank you.”
The corner of Sophie’s mouth lifted. “She looks so delicate, too.”
“Yeah. Looks are deceiving.” He shot Sophie a side glance. “You women are ruthless when you want to be.”
“We women? What about you men? You can be impossible.”
He pulled off the road, taking an exit that led to an old building and empty parking lot. Joe parked in the lot, turned the engine off, and faced her. “Do you know what’s impossible? Thinking this would be a comfortable and practical relationship. I don’t regret picking you, but it’s not comfortable or practical.”
“I’ve been nothing but practical. Whatever you want, I’ll do—”
“Now you’re just torturing me.”
“How?”
“Girl, all I want is you. And you’re the one thing I can’t have.”
She huffed a shocked laugh. “What are you talking about? We’re married. I’m your wife. You have me.”
“Not where I want you,” he growled, the sound deep and husky and distinctively male.
The sexy rasp in his voice made her heart race. “Where do you want me?”
“Under me, on top of me, next to me, against me.”
Sophie’s cheeks burned hot and her lips parted in a silent gasp.
“Nothing?” he said. “Have I shocked you?”
“No,” she whispered. “Not shocked. Maybe surprised.”
“Surprised?”
“I know we have some chemistry when we kiss—”
“This isn’t chemistry. This is insanity. I think about you, and making love to you, twenty-four seven. I shower three times a day just to try to deal with how much I want you. It doesn’t help that you sleep down the hall from me, and give me such chaste little kisses, but I don’t want your chaste little kisses. I want more. I want you.”
“Then take more.” Her voice cracked. “Take me.”
“Take you?” he repeated, voice rough and low. “Don’t tease. I’m close to losing my mind.”
“Can’t have that,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt and slipping from her seat to settle onto his lap. She was facing him, her hands resting on his big silver belt buckle. “Don’t want to make you crazy. Things are complicated enough as they are.”
In the dark, Joe’s eyes searched hers, and then he dropped his head and his mouth covered hers in a slow, hungry kiss that sent electric darts of feeling from her mouth to her breasts, and from her breasts to her belly and beyond. He reached up to clasp the back of her head, angling his mouth closer to better taste her.
Sophie rocked forward, pressing her chest to his, craving the friction of his denim covered erection against her inner thighs.
Joe’s tongue swept her mouth,
stirring tiny nerve endings, and reminding her how it felt to have a man want her, love her. And maybe Joe didn’t love her, but his kiss made her feel alive and beautiful. His kiss made her hum and shiver with need.
She’d thought she’d never feel this way again. She thought she’d lost the chance to be wanted, desired, cherished and yet this new husband of hers was kissing her senseless, turning her body—and heart—inside out.
Suddenly, Sophie couldn’t get close enough, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him, welcoming the hard planes of his big muscular body against her softness. And just when Sophie thought he’d unbutton her blouse or unzip her jeans, he drew back and stared into her eyes.
“What do you want, Sophie?” he asked, cradling her warm, flushed face between his hands. “What do you want from me?”
Her pulse thudded so hard. She fought to catch her breath. “I want you to want me.”
“I do. What else?”
She took another breath, trying to steady her racing pulse. “I want you to like me.”
“I like you so much it’s got me tied up in knots.”
“Don’t be in knots. I like you, too. A whole lot.”
“Do you now?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling into his eyes, and tugging on a strand of his crisp straight hair.
“What else do you want?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t have a list of demands, Joe. I want you happy, and I want to be happy, too. I’m hoping we can be happy together.”
“What did you want from Leo?”
She shook her head, uncomfortable. “It’s in the past. It doesn’t matter.”
“Not that far in the past. It was just December.”
She leaned against Joe’s chest, his body so warm she wanted to get lost in him. “I thought I was in a forever relationship,” she said slowly. “But it wasn’t. And I lost faith in me, and I lost faith in him. I guess the part that still bothers me is that I didn’t see the end coming. I didn’t see that there were problems.” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “But maybe I didn’t want to see the problems. Maybe that’s why I’m cautious with you. I want us to be the real thing. I want us to work, to last.”
“We will. That’s a promise.” Joe gathered her long hair back from her face and neck, and pressed a kiss beneath her ear. She shivered, and he kissed her again, a little lower, on the side of her neck where she was sensitive. Sophie arched and sighed, unable to hide her pleasure.
