Ryder was trying to catch a glimpse of his bride, too, and finally, Sam and Lachele moved aside. He swallowed hard, feeling the impact of her like a punch in the gut. Without the hat, he could see her gleaming black hair, caught up in a simple braid that draped over one shoulder. She had golden, sun-kissed skin that contrasted dramatically with the demure white dress she wore and dark eyes that looked nearly black. When she started toward him with a long, rangy stride that sent her long skirts swishing, he couldn’t help sending up a quick prayer of thanksgiving that this incredible beauty was about to be his. Thank you, God.
Willa squared her shoulders as she walked down the aisle. She hardly noticed Patty Heiland jump up and scramble over to the old pipe organ. A belated, slightly off-key rendition of the Wedding March boomed out. She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that set flight at the sight of the man waiting for her at the altar. He was taller than her, the one thing Willa had finally asked Lachele for, appearance-wise, with tousled brown hair and eyes the most intense shade of blue she had ever seen. No, that wasn’t true, she thought as she got closer. She’d seen that same shade of blue in the summer sky sometimes, early in the morning.
Watching her come towards him, the side of his mouth quirked up in a grin, and there was a deep dimple in his left cheek. His good looks were intimidating until her eyes skimmed down his neat dark suit . . . to find a black and white pair of Converse sneakers on his feet. Unwillingly, a smile tugged at her mouth, too. She twitched back the hem of her dress so he could see that she still wore her cowboy boots, and he laughed deeply, the joyful sound easing her tension completely.
“Willa, if you’d just take your place here,” Pastor Heiland said, drawing her closer to the man she was about to marry, “we can get started. Dearly beloved . . .”
In what seemed like no time, her groom was sliding a gorgeous diamond solitaire ring on her finger, and Pastor Heiland was wrapping things up. “You may kiss the bride.” He smiled at the groom, gesturing toward Willa.
“Glad to,” her stranger husband said. His voice was warm and deep, and Willa’s butterflies came back with a vengeance. She’d never so much as kissed a man, and now, she was going to be kissed by a husband.
His hands went to her waist, and Willa stood awkwardly still, staring up at him. “Ready for an adventure?” he asked softly and bent his head to brush his lips against hers, just once but oh so sweetly, while her toes curled in her boots. Sam and Dr. Lachele clapped and whistled, and Mrs. Heiland sobbed loudly.
The next few minutes were a blur of congratulations, happy hugs given, and photos snapped by near strangers. Lachele and her husband invited the newlyweds out to lunch, but Willa said no. There were things to be done at the ranch. She had already darted into the ladies’ room and changed gratefully back into jeans and her button-down shirt. Pastor and Mrs. Heiland waved them off happily, inviting them back one Sunday for services, which Willa automatically started to decline, and her new husband—oh, Lord, what had his name been? —accepted for both of them.
Two
Ryder could feel his smile stretching from ear to ear. He couldn’t believe it. He was standing on a quiet street in South Dakota, in an honest-to-goodness old West town, in front of a pioneer church, with a beautiful cowgirl bride. When Dr. Lachele came in for one last hug, he caught her up in a grateful squeeze that lifted her off her feet and made her shriek.
“Put me down!” she yelled, whacking him on the shoulder with her purse as Sam just watched on with a smile. Before Ryder could set her back on her feet, Lachele whispered to him, “Be careful with her. Careful and patient. And call me if you need any help!”
Ryder nodded but brushed off the words. The wedding nervousness . . . that was the hard part, and it was all over. Now the fun stuff could begin. He turned to look for Willa, but she was already striding toward a dusty F-350 super duty truck, those long legs of hers eating up the ground.
“Hey,” he called out, jogging to catch up. “Are you forgetting something?”
“Hop in.” Willa did so herself.
Ryder narrowed his eyes. His new bride acted more like she’d just gone grocery shopping and picked up a gallon of milk than a woman who had said her vows with a man she’d never met. But he grabbed his two suitcases out of the back of the rental car and tossed them in the bed of the pickup. He could always come back for the rental later.
“Where are we going?” Ryder asked once he’d buckled his seatbelt and she’d started the big engine with a roar.
She looked over at him uncertainly, her hands tightening on the steering wheel for a moment. “I’ve got work to do. I thought we’d head to my—I thought we’d head home.”
Ryder cocked his head. “Don’t you think we should at least grab some lunch? Have a conversation? I don’t even know where home is. Do we live here in Deadwood?”
“No,” Willa sighed. He was right. She couldn’t just go home and pretend everything was normal. She had to actually talk to her new husband. Feed him—and she sure didn’t know how to make him lunch. She had to try not to think about wedding nights. “You’re right. We’ll grab some food first. And, this is awful, but I have a question for you.” Willa could feel her cheeks burning, but it would only be worse later if she didn’t get this out of the way now.
“Ask me anything.” Her new husband grinned, dimples winking. Caught up in his handsomeness for a moment, Willa almost didn’t answer.
“Ah, your name. I’m sorry,” she said miserably. “The wedding happened so fast, and I just didn’t catch it.”
He laughed, showing straight white teeth. “That’s okay. The whole situation is a little . . . out of the norm. My name is Ryder. Ryder Pearce. And you’re Willa Pearce.”
Willa’s jaw dropped for a second. She wasn’t a Griffin anymore. Shaking her head at the unreality of it all, she said, “I have another question, but this one is easier. Do you like steak?”
As Willa drove them to the Gem Steakhouse, Ryder couldn’t help but stare out the window like a little kid. Deadwood, South Dakota, was incredible. Buildings that didn’t look any different than they probably had in 1875 lined up next to each other on a brick road, sporting names like Hickok’s, the Bullock Hotel and the Tin Lizzie Gaming Resort, their tall fronts stretching up on either side of Main Street. Awnings shaded the tourists wandering the sidewalks, and hills full of scrubby pines made up the movie-like backdrop.
The Mineral Palace, a hotel that apparently housed a casino, a bar, and the Gem Steakhouse, wasn’t far. When Ryder jumped out of the truck, the windows above the storefront across the street caught his eye, and he burst out laughing. When Willa looked at him, one dark eyebrow raised in question, he pointed, and she smiled. “I hardly even notice those ladies anymore,” she said.
“How could you not?” Ryder replied. “They’re a little, uh, eye-catching.”
“Maybe for a man,” Willa said, rolling her eyes.
In each of the windows, a female mannequin in scanty lingerie had been posed to look down on the streets below, just like the real-life soiled doves probably had over one-hundred years ago, calling out to the fellas that wandered by on their way to the bars or gambling dens. Ryder imagined they would look creepy at night, but for now, their seedy charm just added to the feel he was getting for a town proud of its rough-and-tumble past.
When Willa started to walk ahead of him with her characteristic long steps, Ryder moved quickly and grabbed her hand. “You think we could walk together?” he asked, holding her smaller, calloused hand in his own.
Willa ducked her head a little in embarrassment but slowed her steps to match his. She felt like an idiot and hoped her palm didn’t start sweating. She’d never held a man’s hand before. She wished she’d have asked Dr. Lachele or even Mrs. Hollis for advice about this whole marriage thing. She hadn’t been thinking any further than finding a man—any man—to share space with her on a marriage certificate. Put her on a horse in the middle of a hundred nervous steers in a thundersto
rm, and she was fine. Hold a man’s hand? She had no idea what to do!
Ryder seemed to understand her nervousness, though. He let go of her hand long enough to hold the door of the restaurant open, but as she went to walk through, he caught her up in his free arm and gave her a quick but very hot kiss. “Relax,” he said. “We’re just going to have lunch and get to know each other.” Oddly, it did make her feel better.
They were seated quickly and given their drinks and a chance to order, which was easy because both wanted steak and a baked potato. “See? Common ground already,” said Ryder. “I could eat steak and potatoes every day. So, tell me about yourself, Willa Pearce.”
“Oh, you go first. My life story isn’t that exciting. Where are you from?” Maybe this would be easier if she just kept him talking.
“New York,” Ryder replied. “I was born in Vermont but lived in New York most of my life. Ever been to the East Coast?”
“No, I’ve never been out of the state.”
“Really!” Ryder seemed astounded. “We’ll have to do some traveling.”
Her heart sank a little. Travel? She couldn’t do that. Willa was saved from having to answer him when the waitress brought their food. She was about to cut into her ribeye, to keep her hands busy, when Ryder reached across the table to hold them. He bowed his head, and she quickly did the same.
“Father, thank you for the food you’ve provided, and thank you for bringing this beautiful woman into my life. Amen.”
He prayed simply and unselfconsciously, and her cheeks heated in a blush again at him calling her beautiful. He squeezed her hands briefly before letting them go. “I hope you don’t mind—I should have asked first. My parents raised me to give thanks for the good things in my life.”
“No, not at all,” Willa assured him and cut into her steak. She liked that her new husband was a Christian. “Are your parents still living?”
“They are,” he said. “Retired doctors, both of them, and Florida snowbirds from September to May. I asked them to the wedding, but both of their calendars are booked out so far in advance, they couldn’t free up any time.”
“Really?” Willa asked. “Not even for your wedding?”
But Ryder just smiled. “They made me promise to bring you down to meet them. You’d have to use a crowbar to pry them away from their beachfront community after September first. What about you? What’s your family like?”
“It’s just me, now. I was an only child. My mom died a few hours after I was born, and my dad left me for my grandparents to raise. My grandma died when I was five, so it was just me and my grandfather for most of my life, and he passed away a few weeks ago.”
Ryder’s blue eyes clouded with sympathy, and he reached across the table to touch her hand again. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, and she could tell he was sincere. He was just such a nice man. Her heart squeezed, and she almost embarrassed herself by tearing up.
“How’s your steak?” she asked, changing the subject and looking quickly down at her own.
“That banner in front of the restaurant didn’t lie. It’s the best steak I’ve ever had.” He popped another bite of the porterhouse in his mouth and closed his eyes briefly in bliss as he chewed.
Willa chuckled. “Of course, it is. It’s one of ours.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Circle G, my ranch, supplies the Gem and a lot of the other restaurants in town with their Black Angus beef.”
“Seriously?” Ryder asked. “A ranch. Like, a real ranch with cowboys? Tell me you can teach me how to ride a horse. And do you have a bunkhouse and a cook named Beans?” His face had lit up like she’d just told him she was a millionaire.
Willa wanted to laugh at his boyish enthusiasm, but she also didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He was definitely a city slicker—from New York, no less—and she knew he was picturing all the romanticized Westerns he’d ever seen. Real life, though, was not a Hollywood movie set, as he’d find out when it came time to castrate the calves. “Not exactly,” she said instead.
Ryder threw down his napkin. “Are you done?” He eyed her empty plate. “I mean, we could get dessert . . .”
“What happened to getting to know each other,” she teased. “I thought maybe I’d show you around town.”
“Later,” he said, already waving for the check. “I cannot believe I’m going to be a rancher.”
Willa’s own good humor dimmed fast. Ryder was not going to be a rancher, and he’d need to get that idea right out of his head. It was hard to hold on to her irritation, though, in the face of his obvious excitement.
They didn’t go straight home. Ryder insisted on a quick stop at Calamity’s Western Shoppe. “You do not need an entire Western wardrobe,” Willa said in exasperation. “These stores are for tourists or fancy wear. Tractor Supply carries stuff that will work just fine, and it’s a lot cheaper. You are not going to wear sequins and rhinestones.”
“Come on,” Ryder said, quirking a grin at her and holding up a bright red shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons and silver embroidery. He would look cute in anything he wore, she had to admit to herself, but he was also going to look like the biggest greenhorn ever if she let him get away with this.
“No, you’ll look like a square dance caller,” she said firmly, taking the hanger from him and putting the shirt back. Grabbing him by the elbow, she pulled him out of the store. “After six months, if you still want this shirt, you can come back and get it.”
At Tractor Supply, she helped him pick out some sturdy work boots—no pointy toes or alligator skin—Levis, T-shirts, long-sleeved Henleys, thermal wear, and flannel shirts. Daytime temperatures were still in the seventies, but they dropped fast in October. They also bought warm socks, a Carhart jacket, and warm gloves. By the time they finished, Willa was eyeing her watch. She hated shopping, and she’d already been away from the Circle G for going on six hours.
Ryder was studying a selection of hats when he began to get the feeling that his wife was tired of waiting for him. He wasn’t normally a clotheshorse or anything, but this was all just so cool and different to him. Even the store itself smelled weird—like animal food and sawdust—and he wanted to take it all in. If a feed store could be this much fun, how much fun would the rest of his new life be? Lachele had really known what she was doing when she’d matched him up with Willa.
Speaking of his bride, her arms were crossed, and she was looking more and more impatient by the minute. And he abruptly found it very sexy. He had a wife. To have and to hold was going to be a reality, finally. And he definitely couldn’t wait to get his hands on her so they could do some having and holding.
She caught him watching her and frowned. “Just get this one,” she said, grabbing a Sioux Falls Canaries orange and blue baseball hat and plunking it on his head.
“I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like yours.”
“I earned mine,” Willa said abruptly, at the end of her patience. “Last six months, and I’ll buy you a good hat, too.”
Her irritation didn’t faze him. Heedless of the fact that they were in the middle of a store, Ryder pulled her close and tipped his hat back. He kissed her, feeling the stiffness in the slim body pressed up against his go lax and loose in surprise. It only lasted a moment, but when he finally let her go, her dark eyes looked dazed and a little blurry. But she looked a lot less irritated.
“Ah . . . are you ready?” she finally asked, and he just gave her a knowing grin.
They made their way to the checkout with the brimming cart, and the young girl behind the register gave him a funny look. Willa almost laughed out loud when she realized that Ryder was still wearing the suit they’d gotten married in, complete with the Converse shoes and the tipped-back baseball hat. She couldn’t imagine what anyone would think, seeing him here. Even as she snagged his hat and put it on the counter so the girl could ring it up, he was wandering over to a display of books.
“Look,” Ryder said, hold
ing one up. “Raising Beef for Dummies.”
“I already know how to do that,” Willa said, folding her arms. He wasn’t deterred. He grabbed several different books, seemingly at random, and dumped them on the counter with the clothes. As an afterthought, he grabbed a handful of Cow Tales, a long, chewy caramel taffy, and dropped them on the pile.
Giving her what she’d come to realize was his trademark, winning smile, he asked, “Do you want anything?”
Willa just sighed and grabbed two more Cow Tales. She’d only been married a few hours, but having a husband so far seemed about like having a teenage boy.
The Circle G was about 45 minutes from Deadwood, and Ryder divided his time between peppering her with questions about ranch operations and vaccinations and grazing techniques and reading out of the books he’d bought. She gave him sidelong glances as she drove, noticing the way that his hair fell over his forehead, his strong profile, the line of his jaw, just a little bristled with stubble. Willa was glad he was so obviously interested in his book—this one a history of South Dakota—that it gave her time to think and worry in peace.
She actually hadn’t told anyone she was getting married. It didn’t matter to the ranch hands, since to them, she was mostly just a fellow worker that happened to sign their paychecks, but she was starting to think she should have at least said something to Mrs. Hollis. Or Brodie. It was really starting to hit home that she hadn’t just signed a contract. She’d changed her entire life with a few words and the stroke of a pen.
Ryder looked like he was reading, but he hadn’t turned a page in the last ten miles. He was conscious of Willa watching him. It was getting late in the afternoon, and he couldn’t help it—his mind was going to what would happen that night. His first time as a married man. In fact, his first time ever. He wasn’t completely sure, but based on her blushes, he thought that the same went for the delectable Willa. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, her back straight, eyes alert on the country road ahead of them, and wondered if she was thinking about it, too. There was a good, healthy spark of lust between them, and there was no mistaking the way their kisses had affected her.
Sweethearts in South Dakota (At the Altar Book 14) Page 2
