Wyatt's Pretend Pledge
Page 13
Alyssa went that way, returning quickly when Savannah entered the room. She carried a small black gift bag, and Marcy eyed her and then it. “What’s that?”
“Something from Liss and I.” Savannah thrust the bag toward her. “Open it.”
Marcy did, and she pulled a single black glove from a box. “What’s this?” She fingered the material, and it almost felt like rubber.
“We know your dad can’t be here to walk you down the aisle,” Savannah said. “So we had a glove made from something he loved, and Gideon has agreed to wear it. That way, it’s like your daddy walking you toward your husband.”
“The inner tube,” she said, surprise twining with joy inside her. “Is this the inner tube from the front of that airplane?”
Savannah grinned so, so wide. “That it is.”
Marcy did cry then, embracing her cousins with everything inside her.
“Come on, dear,” Penny said as they stepped apart. “The wedding is going to start in five minutes.”
“Let me fix you up real quick,” Nessa said, and she deftly removed any evidence of tears from Marcy’s face. She handed the glove to Penny who took it and left.
Then she finally turned and faced the mirror. The dress was stunning. It had clearly been cleaned as it gleamed a bright white now that it hadn’t in her father’s bathroom. The lace along the bodice had all been removed, replaced with a white satin that made the top half of the dress shine like white silver.
The waistline had been bedazzled with beads and gems, and the skirt fell softly to the floor from there.
“I can’t believe it,” she said, running her hand along the neckline and up the strap. “It hardly looks like the same dress.”
“It’s lovely,” Alyssa said, and Savannah agreed. “Okay, we’re going to go take our seats.” They hurried out of the room, leaving Marcy with the hairdresser and the makeup artist. Not five seconds later, someone knocked on the door, and Wyatt’s father poked his head into the room.
“I’ve been sent to get you, young lady.” He smiled at her, and Marcy blinked as she saw the image of her own father standing there. And not the frail, sickly man he’d been when God had finally seen fit to take him, but the strong, vibrant man who’d taught Marcy everything she knew about flying and airplanes.
She took Gideon’s gloved hand and said, “Let’s go. I’m ready.”
Chapter Seventeen
Wyatt walked around the grounds at Four Paws, shaking hands and giving man-hugs, complete with all the back slapping he could stand. It felt like he’d been dressed and ready to get married for at least five hours, though he knew he hadn’t even been awake that long.
He was surprised at the sheer number of people who had shown up for his nuptials. Dalton, Whitney’s younger brother, hadn’t strayed more than ten feet from him, and the teen was in pure heaven talking to some of his rodeo idols.
Wyatt was glad to have Dalton along, because he wanted to talk to everyone, and Wyatt definitely had some people at his wedding he’d hoped to never see again. Dalton didn’t need to know that, and the boy allowed Wyatt to move to someone else after saying a quick hello.
It wasn’t hot by any means, and yet Wyatt had a ring of sweat along his hatband. “What time is it?” he hissed to Micah, who’d also been hovering on the peripheral, just in case Wyatt needed some help getting out of a situation.
“It’s time to head down to the altar,” Micah said, and Wyatt put his fake reporter smile on his face as he said hello to just one more person. Cameras had been set up at the back of the swelling crowd, and Wyatt walked right past them to go down the aisle to the front. Every eye felt like a ton of bricks, and they were all watching him.
He cursed himself for setting this all up. Marcy was going to hate it. Absolutely hate it, and his anxiety bounced through his throat like a pulse. He’d gotten dressed in a cabin about fifty yards away, and he knew Marcy had been sequestered in the one right next door. He looked that way and caught sight of the door closing.
“She’s on her way,” Micah said. “Stay right here. I have to go join the wedding party.” He jogged away, leaving Wyatt all alone in front of the whole crowd. His eyes scanned the sea of people in front of him, and they found his mother sitting in the front row.
All at once, his nerves calmed, and the smile on his face felt genuine. He hoped the cameras caught that, because he didn’t feel very real right now. He’d be here at the dog sanctuary until two, with the ceremony, refreshments, and dancing with anyone who wanted to come for the two hours.
The family dinner was happening at three, at Seven Sons Ranch. And he and Marcy needed to be on the road by five to make their flight in Amarillo. They weren’t leaving for long, but Wyatt had convinced Marcy to rearrange her flying schedule so they could spend four days in sunny, peaceful Cancun.
They’d be arriving fairly late that night, and by the time Wyatt lugged his suitcase to their private cabana—just one room this time—it would be after midnight. He’d have been up for almost eighteen hours, and he was hoping for a very late start tomorrow.
Thankfully, he’d been able to book a private jet through someone Jeremiah knew, so they didn’t have any layovers.
The crowd stood up, and Wyatt shook himself out of his honeymoon fantasies. A collective sigh moved through the crowd as Marcy came to stand right between the cameras.
He sucked in a breath at the sight of her, though she was still quite a distance away. Daddy beamed like he was escorting a princess down the aisle.
Because he totally was.
The wedding party flowed around Marcy, and Wyatt grinned as his brothers and their wives came toward him. Skyler had brought a friend from Amarillo whose name Wyatt had forgotten the moment Skyler had said it. And Micah walked with Simone, though they weren’t exactly talking to each other at the moment.
Wyatt was going to ask him about it as soon as he returned from Mexico. He’d been so busy for the past several weeks, but Micah hadn’t taken a step away from Wyatt at all.
The flash of guilt passed as Rhett arrived and drew Wyatt into a brotherly hug. They all did the same thing, and Wyatt had never been more grateful for his brothers than he was in that moment.
They all circled back to the front row, leaving the view of Marcy walking toward him wide open.
He’d always found her the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, but wearing that dress only tripled that. Whatever his mother had done had worked, and Marcy looked absolutely angelic.
“She’s a keeper, son,” Daddy said, passing Marcy to Wyatt. “Good luck, you two.”
Wyatt nodded to his father, his vocal cords filled with sawdust. He couldn’t speak even if he knew what to say. He simply brushed his lips along Marcy’s cheek and turned to face the pastor. He didn’t know Pastor Daniels all that well, but Marcy had grown up in Three Rivers, and she’d known him for years.
The man said good things on Sunday, Wyatt knew that. He welcomed anyone to their congregation. He organized meals for people, sent out prayer roll reminders, all of it.
Thank you, Lord, Wyatt thought as the man started talking. His hand in Marcy’s tightened, and she squeezed back. Thankfully.
This was no pretend pledge. It couldn’t be. She’d said she loved him; he loved her. But they hadn’t amended any of their rules or discussed anything further. As far as he knew, he’d still be moving into her father’s house come Wednesday morning, and Wyatt wondered what the bed would be like.
Did she really want to sleep in her parents’ bedroom?
“Marcy Payne,” Pastor Daniels said. “Do you take this cowboy, Wyatt Walker, to be your lawfully and legally wedded husband?”
He blinked, having missed the entire advice portion of the ceremony.
“I do,” she said.
Pastor Daniels turned to him, his eyes positively radiant as he looked at Wyatt. “Yeehaw.”
Everyone chuckled, and Wyatt joined them. “Do you, Wyatt Walker, take this beautiful woman, Marcy Payne, to
be your lawfully and legally wedded wife?”
“I do,” he said, his voice just the tiniest bit hoarse.
Several cowboys cheered from the crowd, the same way they would for a rodeo champion.
Wyatt laughed now and looked at Marcy. “Sorry. Maybe this whole spectacle was a bad idea.”
“Just hold your horses,” Pastor Daniels said, holding up both hands. That played right to the crowd of cowboys and cowgirls, and several more yips and calls went up before they settled into silence again.
“Now that they’ve both said ‘I do,’ I can pronounce them husband and wife.” His eyes glittered like lit stars. “You may now kiss your bride, cowboy.”
Wyatt’s heart sang as he turned toward Marcy and said, “I love you, Marce.” He leaned closer so no one else could hear. With his lips right at her ear he said, “And that is not pretend.” He kissed her in the next moment. The way Marcy kissed him back, she wasn’t pretending either.
And now he was hers; she was his.
He broke the kiss, laughed, and turned to face the crowd. They were already jeering and hollering like he’d just won another grand championship, and he raised his left hand with Marcy’s secured in it.
In his right hand, he took off his cowboy hat and waved it at the crowd like he did after every win. This was his tribute to these people who’d taken time from their lives to celebrate his.
He loved them, even if some of them weren’t his favorite people.
All the cowboys wearing hats, pulled theirs off and waved them right on back at Wyatt and Marcy, who said, “Wow. You really are a celebrity.”
The cheering and whooping increased, and even the women in the crowd waved with their right hands. Wyatt’s emotions overwhelmed him, because he was just so grateful. So amazed that what had started out as a way for him to communicate with his father across hundreds of miles had become a way to say I love you or Thank you to everyone.
So happy, all he could do was smile out at everyone who had taken time out of their Friday to attend this wedding.
“Y’all,” someone said over the speaker system. It took several more attempts to get everyone to settle down enough to hear Rhett. “We have chocolate, vanilla, and carrot cakes over on the east side of the seats here. Everyone is welcome to sample them. There’s chocolate milk, hot chocolate, and coffee too.”
Rhett continued to tell people that the dancing would begin in fifteen minutes, and that they should find their partners now. “Yeehaw!” he practically screeched into the microphone.
Wyatt put his hat back on and held tightly to Marcy’s hand as the crowd surged toward them. He shook her brother’s hand, and he did let go of his new wife so she could hug Bryan. They got separated for several long minutes while congratulations went around, and thankfully, Rhett got back on the microphone.
“I need the bride and groom over here, please. They’ll be doing the first dance, and then we’ll welcome everyone to pick a patch of floor and have a twirl.”
“Have a twirl?” Wyatt chuckled as he pressed through the people to the open patch of grass that Dustin had roped off for the dance floor. Someone he didn’t know moved the ropes so he could step through, and he took Marcy into his arms as effortlessly as breathing.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as the first strains of a love song filled the air.
“Don’t be,” she said back. “This is every little girl’s dream.”
“Is it?” He laughed, glad the smile would be natural for Whitney, who seemed to be everywhere and nowhere every time he looked.
“Wyatt, this is fantastic,” she said, pressing her cheek to his. He closed his eyes, because this was like heaven to him. He had fallen right into a dream, and he couldn’t wait to be alone with his wife.
The song ended, and Rhett said, “Let’s liven this party up a little, shall we?”
“I should’ve never put him in charge,” Wyatt said. The music blared through the speakers, and Rhett had known his exact audience for this wedding. Cowboys flooded the dance floor, because they liked quick-tempo music to swing to.
Wyatt thought he’d probably catch an elbow if he stayed on the dance floor for too long, and he managed to get Marcy out of harm’s way and over to the mini-cake table. “Chocolate for you, my wife,” he said, grinning at her.
“And chocolate for you,” she said as he picked up the same flavor for himself.
Wyatt laughed, as he continued to do for the next hour of dancing and merriment. Then he escaped to the quiet of his truck, where he drove Marcy to her house to change for the family dinner. He changed in her spare bedroom into a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt with the signature two W’s on the breast pocket. One of his shirts. The bestseller, in fact.
He looked good in blue, he knew, and he felt his confidence soar when he left the bedroom and found Marcy in a tight pair of black jeans and a sweater.
She melted right into his arms, and Wyatt kissed her. Nothing else needed to be said, because she had a way of saying everything he needed to hear without uttering a word.
And this time, he didn’t put the brakes on his kiss before it went too far, because this time, he was married.
Chapter Eighteen
Simone sat on the couch at Seven Sons, feeling very out of place. Everyone around her was nice, sure. But they all had someone to chat idly with, and she did not. Her sisters had their Walker brother husbands, and Simone felt more left out than she ever had.
Skyler had brought a friend from Amarillo, but if Simone were a betting woman, there should’ve been a girl in front of friend. Judging from the way Skyler kept grinning at her, and putting his arm around her, and leaning close and saying something no one else could hear, the two of them were definitely more than friends.
Her name was Fiona, and Simone didn’t even know regular humans used that name. She looked away from them, as Skyler and “Fi” weren’t helping in the kitchen.
The twins had disappeared out on the ranch when Wyatt had called to say he and Marcy would be a little bit late, and they’d taken all of the kids with them. Callie helped Jeremiah in the kitchen, and Evelyn currently had her eyes closed as she cuddled into Rhett’s side.
Simone herself felt like taking a nap, but she couldn’t let her guard down. Not for one single second. If she did, Micah would sidle up to her, and she didn’t want to talk to him. Linking her arm through his and walking down that impossibly long aisle had been hard enough.
She’d managed to keep him at bay with glares and frowns, but he was wearing her down. Now that he lived here full-time—and that she’d broken up with Jarrod—he’d been trying to wiggle his way back into her life.
But she’d had enough of the on-again, off-again drama. He didn’t get to toy with her like a yo-yo, reeling her back in when it was convenient for him, and throwing her for a loop when his ex came calling.
And wow, Stephanie didn’t understand the meaning of a break-up.
Simone did, as she’d been through several in her life. More than either of her sisters, who’d almost lived like spinsters until Rhett Walker had bought the ranch next door and moved in.
Truth be told, Simone wanted her fairy-tale Walker wedding too. And Micah seemed to know it.
If only he wasn’t so good-looking. So rich. So kind. So good.
If only he didn’t look at her with that longing in his gaze, or text her a funny meme exactly when she needed to see it.
She’d laughed more times while alone in her she-shed than she cared to admit, all because of something Micah had sent her or something he’d said.
He’d gotten really close to kissing her once, and Simone wouldn’t have objected. Her boyfriend might have, and thankfully, Jarrod had knocked on the door of her workshop before any lip touching had happened.
So maybe she’d gone cold on Micah a time or two as well. He’d accused her of giving him mixed signals, and Simone had tried to deny it. But in all honestly, he was right.
“Hey.”
She looked
up from her perfectly manicured nails—a treat she’d given herself for the wedding. By Monday morning, they’d be chipped and broken, as Simone did a lot of sanding, staining, and stitching to make her junkyard pieces into cherished antiques.
Micah had sat beside her, and she hadn’t even seen him coming. “Could we…go talk on the front porch? I promise I won’t take you far or take up too much of your time.” He got up almost the moment he finished talking and walked away.
Simone watched him go, aware that several others were now watching her.
“Well, go on,” Evelyn said, her eyes still closed.
“Evvy,” Rhett said. “Let them work it out.”
Simone didn’t know what to do, but the chatter in the kitchen and living room had almost died, so she heard the defining click of the front door as Micah closed it behind him. Indecision raged through her, and another long stare at her fingernails didn’t give her the answer she needed.
At one point in her life, she might have prayed to know what to do. But she’d given up the habit about the time she’d realized her pleas to the Lord fell on deaf ears. At least that was how it felt to her.
“He says they’re ten minutes out,” Jeremiah said, and Simone thought she might as well give Micah ten minutes. They wouldn’t be able to talk longer than that anyway. Once Wyatt arrived, dinner would be served, and there would be no time for private talks.
Like a shot, she bolted to her feet and started for the front door. Behind her, she heard Callie ask, “Where’s she going?”
Someone responded, but Simone didn’t know who. Probably Whitney or Ivory, as they were both curled into the couch too, and had likely heard what Micah had said.
The sun’s rays slanted across the porch when Simone reached it, and she too brought the door closed gently behind her. Micah sat in a rocking chair in the sunshine, the slow squeak of the wood almost comforting.
“This seat’s open,” he said, indicating a second chair. Simone approached him slowly, wanting to jump into his arms at the same time she wanted to tell him to just leave her alone. The internal war was exhausting.