Wyatt's Pretend Pledge

by Liz Isaacson

  “Good idea,” Alyssa said. “We’ll got through the pantry. Maybe he’ll have unopened things we can donate to the Food Bank.” She pushed up her sweater sleeves and stepped into the kitchen with Marcy.

  “And, uh, Wyatt Walker is coming to help,” Marcy said, glancing at the clock. It wasn’t six yet, and she hadn’t even thought to check the time earlier.

  “Wyatt Walker?” Alyssa and Savannah said in unison, as if they’d rehearsed it before coming over. They exchanged a glance, and Savannah said, “The Wyatt Walker? The rodeo king?”

  Marcy nodded, pure apprehension pulling through. “We’re sort of…friends.”

  They were a lot more than friends, despite Marcy breaking up with him in the hospital over five months ago. They’d shared several kisses, and none of them testified of friendship. The temperature in the kitchen skyrocketed, and Marcy pulled open the fridge again.

  “You’re friends with Wyatt Walker.” Savannah wasn’t asking this time. “When did this happen?”

  “Last year,” Marcy said, her head buried in the depths of the fridge. She pulled out a half-empty bottle of mayo and one of ranch dressing. “I’m throwing all of this away.”

  Alyssa bent and pulled a trash bag from under the sink. “Good idea.” She met Marcy’s eye, pure kindness in hers. “And good for you for the whole…Wyatt thing.”

  Marcy smiled and started throwing condiments and plastic containers of leftovers into the garbage bag. “The Wyatt thing” summed up her current relationship with Wyatt, actually. And that made her heart twist in its spot in her chest.

  She realized in that moment that she wanted more than “the Wyatt thing.” She may have called him last night because he was her only option, but she did like him. She’d always liked him. She liked him so much, she’d broken up with him and held him at arm’s length so she wouldn’t hurt him by trying to have a relationship when she wasn’t ready for such things.

  The doorbell rang again, and Marcy spun toward it. “That’ll be him. And he’ll probably have food. I should’ve texted him you two were here.”

  “Oh, we can leave,” Alyssa said. “We just didn’t want you to be alone, and now you won’t be.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Savannah said. “I want to see what’s going on with her and Wyatt.”

  “Savvy,” Alyssa warned.

  “What?” Savannah laughed. “Look at her. She’s bright red and frozen to the spot.”

  Marcy felt her cousin’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t make herself move, nor could she help what her face looked like.

  “I don’t think they’re just friends,” Savannah said with a giggle.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” Alyssa said.

  The doorbell rang again, and very clearly, Wyatt said, “Marcy, it’s Wyatt, sugar.”

  “Sugar,” Savannah teased, and Marcy blinked her gaze away from the door and toward her cousins. “I’ll get it,” Savannah said, taking one step toward the front door.

  That got Marcy to thaw, and she darted in front of her cousin. “No way.”

  Savannah’s dark eyes sparkled, and she said, “Marcy, you like this man.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

  “Marce?” he called. “You okay in there?”

  “You better get the door,” Savannah said, grinning. “Or he’s coming through it.”

  “I think it’s great she likes him,” Alyssa said as Marcy walked through the living room. “She hasn’t dated anyone in so long.”

  Marcy cringed at the words, though they were true. Savannah said something in return, but Marcy was too far away to hear what. She inhaled and opened the door to find the tall, dark, delicious rodeo king standing on the front porch.

  Pure worry lived in his eyes. “There you are,” he said, lowering his phone. “I was just going to call you.”

  “My cousins are here.”

  “I saw the extra car,” he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to the driveway. “Good thing I didn’t plan an elaborate proposal, right?”

  Chapter Seven

  Wyatt glanced over Marcy’s shoulder and saw the cousins. They hardly seemed like they belonged together, what with Marcy’s blonde hair and her cousins with their dark strands.

  He watched Marcy blink at him, obviously stunned by the word proposal. Wyatt wanted to chuckle and draw her into a kiss. But he couldn’t do that with an audience. He knew how to charm the cousins, sure. But it wasn’t with a public display of affection for Marcy.

  In fact, Wyatt liked to keep those things behind closed doors, and he had the wild thought to pull Marcy onto the porch, close the door, and kiss her there.

  Slow down, cowboy, he told himself.

  He did lean closer to her and whisper, “I have a ring, Marcy. Have you thought more about marrying me?”

  That question certainly wasn’t going slow, nor did it put the brakes on his rapid heartbeat. And when Marcy nodded, Wyatt’s most vital organ nearly sprinted out of his body.

  She stepped back to give him room to enter the house, saying in a very loud voice, “My cousins were just leaving.”

  “Were they?” Wyatt entered the house, his gaze trained on the two brunettes hovering on the edge of the kitchen. He walked toward them, his celebrity smile curving his mouth. “I’m Wyatt Walker. I saw you at the funeral, of course, but I don’t think we’ve formally met.”

  One of them sighed and the other giggled. Wyatt shook both of their hands while Marcy introduced them as Alyssa and Savannah.

  “Looks like we’re starting in the kitchen,” he said, picking up a box of crackers and looking at it. “I brought some crates. We can load up the unopened stuff in the back of my truck. I can take it to the Food Bank on my way to the ranch tomorrow.”

  The diamond ring in his pocket felt like it was a lead brick, and he was so glad he’d noticed the other car in the driveway before getting down on both knees on the porch. After all, it was hard work for him to get down and up, and the last thing he needed was to embarrass himself. Or Marcy.

  “I think we have time to load up the crates,” Savannah said. “Right, Liss?”

  “Sure,” her sister said, and the two of them scampered out of the house. Wyatt waited until the front door clicked closed, and then he looked at Marcy.

  She giggled too, but it wasn’t nervous or girly. “Sorry about them. I didn’t know they were coming.”

  “I don’t care if they stay.” Wyatt scanned the room and saw hours and hours of work. Days. Weeks. Maybe even a month. At least Marcy had brought some boxes home, and she’d even labeled them.

  “I do,” Marcy said. “We have some things to talk about.”

  That they did, and Wyatt pushed his patient button while her cousins returned, and they all went through the cupboards to get the items the Food Bank would take. He loaded them into the back of his truck and stood in the dark driveway with Marcy as her cousins loaded up and backed into the street.

  He followed her into the house, and the door had barely clicked closed when she said, “You bought a ring?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You want to see it?”

  She turned to face him, and Wyatt could tell she wanted to see it. He dug in his pocket and pulled the ring out. “I was going to do this super romantic thing. There were flowers involved and chocolate cake, because we both love that. But then, I don’t know. I thought maybe I wouldn’t even tell you about the ring tonight.” Then he’d seen her, and Wyatt’s brain seemed to misfire whenever Marcy was in the room.

  “It was the first thing you said,” Marcy teased.

  “You make me nervous,” Wyatt admitted.

  A brand-new glint entered the blonde’s eyes. “I do?” She took a step toward him. “Why’s that, Wyatt? Don’t you know you’re the celebrity here?”

  “I’m just a regular man,” he said. “Who happens to know how to ride a horse and throw a rope.” He swallowed, his mouth so dry as his gaze dropped to her lips.

  She tiptoed her fingertips up his shirt
, touching each one of his buttons. “I’ve thought about you all day,” she said.

  “Ditto.” Heck, the woman had followed him into his dreams during his afternoon nap.

  “I have a dilemma,” she said, their faces so close, all Wyatt had to do was lean forward four inches and he could kiss her. “I want to keep Payne’s. And I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Sugar, marrying me would make me yours.” And oh, how he wanted to be hers. And he wanted her to be his. Only his. “You wouldn’t lose me. In fact, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me for a year.” He grinned down at her, his hand finally lifting to rest on her hip. “I don’t think it’s a secret that I like you, Marce. I have for a long time now.”

  She nodded. “And I like you.”

  He opened his fist to reveal the ring. “So let’s get married.” He’d made a mistake last night by mentioning that maybe they could fall in love. So while he wanted to say it again right now, he bit back the words.

  “We need to make some decisions,” Marcy said, staring at the huge diamond in his palm. “Before I’ll wear that ring.”

  He wanted her to say yes and wear the ring. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s make them then.”

  She looked up at him, her blue eyes brighter than he’d seen them in a while. “There’s so many things.” She blinked, shuttering off some of her playfulness and all of her emotions. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Kissin’ you,” he said.

  “Wyatt,” she said, smiling. “Be serious.”

  “Oh, I’m serious.”

  “I meant, what do you need to talk about?”

  Wyatt tried to focus, mentally commanding his hormones to calm down. “Well, the first thing my momma will ask is when we’re getting married.”

  “Has to be by July first,” she said. “I got that email today.”

  “What do you want?” he asked. Wyatt would do everything in his power to give her what she wanted, but he wasn’t going to say that. He’d already revealed too much by saying he was thinking about kissing her.

  “I’m not a fussy person,” she said.

  “But I’m the rodeo king,” he said, using her words. The media’s words. “And my marriage will be a big thing.”

  “June then,” she said.

  “June,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Saturday? Friday night? Sunday?”

  “Friday night,” she said. “It doesn’t need to be a big thing. Certainly not a whole day.”

  Wyatt could just see his sponsors turning this into a very big thing, but he didn’t say anything. “June sixteenth is a Friday,” he said.

  “Let’s do the second,” she said. “Get it over with.”

  Wyatt flinched at the words. “Okay.” He made an event on his calendar that literally said Marry Marcy and set it on June second. “What else?”

  “I’ve been thinking about where we’ll live,” she said.

  “I don’t have a place of my own,” he said. “But I can get one, or I can live with you.” The very idea had his pulse and his nerves and every ounce of testosterone in his body vibrating like a horse ready to explode out of a gate.

  Marcy stayed silent. She turned and went back into the kitchen, Wyatt following like a puppy dog. “Talk to me,” he said.

  “I was just thinking it might be nice for us to get married really soon.” She lifted her eyes to his, finally. “And move in here together. We can go through the house together, and I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It might not be so painful for me that way.”

  “You want to live here?” Wyatt couldn’t believe that. The house was fine as far as houses went. But she’d been raised in this house, and he couldn’t believe she wanted to start their life together here.

  It’s not a true start to at true life together, he thought, and the words stung him. Pricking and piercing over and over again until Wyatt shoved them out of his head.

  “It was just an idea,” Marcy said, reaching into the fridge for something else.

  “How soon is ‘really soon’?” His brothers had gotten married without their parents, but Wyatt wanted his family there, especially his mother. He’d always been more of a Momma’s boy than the other brothers, and he used to feel bad about it.

  Not only that, but Liam and Callie were about to have a baby. Wyatt couldn’t send a family text and be like, Surprise! I’m getting married this weekend!

  “I don’t know,” Marcy said, tossing a head of lettuce in the trashcan. “But the sooner we get married, the sooner the countdown clock starts.”

  Wyatt pressed his eyes closed in a long blink. “Marcy, I just have to ask. I don’t want to upset you or freak you out. But I just have to ask.”

  She stilled in her cleaning, and Wyatt gathered all the courage he had. This was so much harder than tying himself to a bull and letting it try to buck him off.

  “Do you think we could, you know, have a real relationship through all of this?”

  Marcy looked resigned, almost like she’d been expecting the question. “Yes,” she whispered.

  Wyatt’s hope took shape as it ballooned in his chest. “So maybe we won’t have a countdown clock.”

  She swallowed and breathed in deep before she said, “I just feel bad. I feel like I’m making you do something you don’t want to do.”

  “Marcy,” he said, disbelieving what he’d just heard. “I’ve had a major crush on you for over a year. Trust me when I say I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do.” He ducked his head, the brim of his cowboy hat hiding her face from his view. “And I’ve kissed you a lot, sugar. You seem to like me well enough.”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “I just…I don’t want to use you. I don’t want to marry you, because you’re the only man I know. Literally, Wyatt. The only one.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “But as I was flying today, I just knew I couldn’t give up Payne’s either. And I feel stuck.”

  He stepped around the trashcan, pushing it out of the way with his foot so he could take Marcy into his arms. “But if we like each other, and you actually think we could take this pretend pledge and make it real one day—that’s what I think, Marce. I think we would be so good together, and not just for a year.” He touched his nose to her forehead and took a deep breath of her skin. She smelled soft and powdery, with always a touch of grease and metal beneath that. And he loved it.

  “But forever,” he whispered. “I don’t love you…yet.” He looked at her. “Tell me you don’t love me yet.”

  “I don’t love you yet.”

  “But you could.”

  She nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. “I think I could, yes.”

  “I like it when you say yes,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple, then her cheek. “So sugar, don’t think so hard about stuff, okay? We can work out more things. I know we need to. But will you marry me? Yes or no?”

  Marcy nodded, her cheek brushing his. “Yes,” she said, and that became the single best word in the English language.

  “I’m going to kiss you now,” Wyatt whispered, and he gave her a couple of seconds to protest. She didn’t.

  He touched his lips to hers, a firecracker exploding down his throat as he kissed her. She kissed him back, and Wyatt wondered how he’d survived on a daily basis without kissing this woman. Without her, nothing was possible.

  With her, nothing was impossible, and Wyatt kissed her until he remembered they weren’t quite married…yet.

  Chapter Eight

  Liam sat straight up in bed, his senses firing at him all at once.

  “That’s your phone,” Callie said, her voice on the edge of sleep still.

  “It’s the baby,” he said, scrambling to throw the blankets off his legs so he could get up. He reached for his phone at the same time, trying to get to the call before it went to voicemail.

  “It is?” Callie asked, a measure of panic in her voice now. “How do you know?”

  “It’s either that or an emergency,” he said, though he consider
ed bringing home a newborn baby a total and complete emergency. He felt ill-equipped for a tiny human who needed everything provided for them.

  Sure, he and Callie had been taking care of Denise, the three-year-old foster child that had been placed with them, for a couple of months now. Callie had fallen right into the role of motherhood like she was born for it.

  Liam had struggled a little bit. He loved the girl with all of his heart, and he’d spent lots of time with her on the ranch, showing her the chickens, the horses, the pigs, and the goats. He’d taken her horseback riding with him, and swimming at the community center. She’d fallen asleep in his arms at the New Year’s Eve fireworks, and he’d had a hard time deciding which to watch more—her sleeping soundly or the bright pops of light in the night sky.

  But he had no idea what he was doing. He’d been praying since the day they picked her up that he’d be guided and led to say and do the right things. He and Callie had gotten a file on Denise, and she’d been through a lot in her short life already.

  Liam wanted to make sure she never had to go without food and proper care again, period.

  “Hello?” he asked, finally swiping on the call.

  “Is this Liam Walker?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his heart thumping in such a strange way. He hadn’t recognized the number, so it wasn’t a family member, nor was it Belle, the birth mother they’d gotten to know since taking in Denise and preparing for this new baby.

  “This is Sheralyn Thomas from the maternity center at the Amarillo Medical Center. Belle Forrest has asked me to call you.”

  Liam snapped his fingers and waved his hand, and the bed rustled as Callie got up. “Is she in labor?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. She said y’all could come anytime. The baby will likely be born within a couple of hours.”

  Liam stood up, ready to fly the hour and fifteen minutes to Amarillo. “We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he said. “Thank you.” He hung up and tossed the phone on the bed. “She’s in the hospital.”

  “I’m getting dressed,” Callie said.