Jeremiah's Bogus Bride

by Liz Isaacson

  A sigh passed through her whole body, and Jeremiah stepped forward when Callie and Simone returned. “I want to go,” he said. “Will you wait for me?”

  She nodded and faded into the background as he disappeared through the door with the twins. That was more than two people, but she couldn’t imagine anyone telling those three Walker men that they couldn’t be there.

  Whitney sat down on a couch, surprised when Wyatt joined her, a long sigh spilling from his mouth. “Hey,” he said, smiling at her.

  “Hey.” She smiled at him. He was handsome, as all the Walkers were, and he seemed to be very down-to-earth. “My nephew is big into the rodeo,” she added.

  “That so?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

  “I told him I might be able to introduce the two of you.”

  Wyatt looked weary for a moment, just a beat of time. “Does he ride?”

  “Yeah, of course,” she said.

  “Bring ‘im out to the ranch on Saturday or Sunday. I ride the most then.”

  “He will literally die,” Whitney said with a smile.

  Wyatt grinned at her. “I ain’t nobody special, ma’am.”

  Oh, he could charm anyone with that cowboy accent, and Whitney shook her head. “Well, I think you’ve won a bunch of championships or something, so Dalton thinks you’re special.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Just turned sixteen. I taught him to drive.”

  “Wow.” Wyatt’s eyebrows went up. “Brave woman.”

  “More like trying to keep my sister from killing him.” She laughed, glad when Wyatt did too. Jeremiah returned a couple of minutes later, and he asked if she wanted to go see the baby.

  She shook her head. “Let your family do it. I need to get back to the store.” She’d run out when Jeremiah had called, and Patsy said she’d finish her job. But she’d only been here for about forty minutes, and she might as well get back so the green beans got put in the right place.

  Jeremiah walked her out to her truck and kissed her. Whitney enjoyed the taste of him, the slow, easy way he kissed her. He made her feel cherished, and loved, and absolutely beautiful.

  If only he liked her pictures too.

  “Tomorrow morning?” he asked, kissing her again. “What time?” But he kissed her before she could answer. The sun beat down on her, but she could barely feel it. Someone honked, and Jeremiah chuckled as he pulled away from her.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, still grinning. “What time should I meet you at the jeweler?”

  “Shoot should be done by eight,” she said.

  “Well, they won’t be open by then. Breakfast?”

  “Pancake house,” she said, putting one palm against his chest and pressing him back. Maybe by then she’d have found a way to tell him about Lake Winters.

  “See you then,” he said, falling back again. He turned and walked away, and Whitney went back to Wilde & Organic.

  She found Patsy in the produce section with plenty of boxes to go. “I’m back,” she said, tying on her apron. “Thanks for covering for me.”

  “How’s Evelyn?” Patsy asked.

  A bit of surprise trickled through Whitney. She hadn’t known her sister and Evelyn Walker were friends at all. “I didn’t see her,” she said. “But the report is that everyone did great, and the baby is super cute.” Whitney smiled, pulled on her gloves, and opened a box of cabbage. She wanted babies so badly, and she couldn’t believe she’d wasted so much time on a man like Blake. He didn’t really know her, and he’d never really supported her dreams.

  Kind of like how Jeremiah thinks your baby photography is ridiculous. The annoying voice in her head wouldn’t go away, and Whitney grew more agitated with every head of cabbage she stacked.

  “How are things with you and Jeremiah?” Patsy asked.

  Whitney blinked, trying to focus on the conversation and the work. Those thoughts were so dang loud in her head. “Okay,” she said.

  “Just okay?”

  She glanced over to Patsy and then around the store. But they were still closed, and no one could overhear. “He hates the baby photography.”

  Patsy stalled in her arrangement of the tomatillos. “He said that to your face?”

  “He doesn’t know it’s me.”

  “You haven’t told him?”

  No wonder Dalton didn’t like talking to his mother. Everything was a question, and it was said in such a way that made Whitney feel like she’d never be able to do anything right. “No,” she said. “When we got back together, I was hanging my spring photo up, and he made a comment about how weird it was. So I didn’t say anything.” She shrugged, broke down the box, and moved to the purple cauliflower. “I thought I’d, you know, eventually tell him. Today, he made another comment about how ridiculous it was when someone suggested Evelyn and Rhett hire me for newborn pictures.”

  “Oh, wow.” Patsy wore a look of sympathy on her face. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” She stared at the vegetables and kept her hands busy to get them all in the right places. “I sure do like him.”

  “I can see that.” Patsy nudged her, and Whitney found a smile on her face. “Maybe pray about it? See what you feel like is best.” That was Patsy’s answer for everything—pray about it.

  Whitney didn’t hate the advice, and she placed the last head of purple cauliflower on top of the pile and closed her eyes. What should I do about Jeremiah?

  That was a very broad question, and Whitney would like a checklist, please and thank you. But no loud voices boomed through the store. No soft ones either. No impressions. No feelings. She opened her eyes and moved down to the yellow squash. She didn’t have time for prayer right now anyway. The store would be open in twenty minutes, and she and Patsy would be lucky to have the produce section ready in time.

  The next morning, Whitney tucked her camera into the protective bag and put it in the trunk of her car. She’d invested thousands in her photography gear, and she always took great care with it. She double-checked to make sure she’d taken off her strap and put her light meter in the backseat before she locked the car and crossed the street.

  Jeremiah looked up from the bench in front of the pancake house as she approached, a smile blooming across his handsome face. Maybe his thoughts and opinions about the baby photography didn’t matter. Maybe she’d never have to tell him.

  Don’t be stupid, she told herself. She was going to marry this man. Maybe it wouldn’t be real at first, but what if the relationship could be? Would she have to constantly look over her shoulder to make sure he didn’t see her editing the newborns? Lie to him about where she was going and who she was shooting?

  Yeah, she couldn’t keep the secret for forever. But as Jeremiah chuckled and swept her into his arms, she thought she certainly didn’t need to tell him today. She accepted his kiss, not caring that they stood in front of the busiest place in town on a Saturday morning.

  “I’m starving,” he said. “I don’t usually eat breakfast so late.”

  “It’s barely after eight,” she said.

  “Yeah, and a lot of work on the ranch is done by dawn,” he said. “It’s so hot during the day.”

  Whitney just shook her head and climbed the steps to the pancake house with him. “I want to stop by the bakery after this too,” she said. “I need to take something for my niece’s party.”

  “I never say no to stopping at the bakery,” he said.

  He held up two fingers for the hostess, who promptly grabbed menus and said, “Follow me.”

  They’d only made it a few steps when Jeremiah stopped. “Squire,” he said, glancing around at all the cowboys in the booth. He dropped Whitney’s hand as the other cowboy rose to shake his. “You brought the whole crew.”

  “Just a few,” the other cowboy said. He was easily as old as Jeremiah, maybe a couple of years older. Whitney knew who he was, of course. Retired military hero. Ran the biggest ranch in town. Everyone knew who the Ackerman’s
were.

  “I don’t see you out on the weekends,” Squire said, moving his gaze to Whitney.

  “Yeah, well, I lose track of the days in the summer,” Jeremiah said, grinning. “This is my girlfriend, Whitney Wilde.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am,” Squire said, reaching for her hand.

  “Nice to meet you too.” Nerves fluttered through Whitney’s stomach. This was what she’d imagined meeting his family to be like, but that had been easy. Jeremiah had stepped around Squire and was talking to another man, and it was clear Jeremiah had a second family unit in town she hadn’t known about.

  Squire turned back to the half-dozen cowboys crammed in the booth. “He’s talkin’ to Pete Marshall. He runs Courage Reins out at the ranch. And we brought along some of our boys that have been workin’ real hard this spring.” He nodded to them and started rattling off names. Whitney knew a couple of them, but not all of them.

  They tipped their hats and said, “Ma’am,” over and over.

  She knew Bennett Lancaster the best, as they were the same age and had gone to high school together. She knew Duke Somers too, and both of them watched her with a little too much interest.

  “How long y’all been dating?” Bennett asked.

  “Not long,” Whitney hedged. “How do you guys know Jeremiah?”

  “Oh, he attends all the ranch owner meetings in town,” Squire said. “Pete and I go as much as we can. Jeremiah’s always there.”

  “They’re on Thursdays,” Pete said. “You must be something special to get him off that ranch any other time.” He grinned and lifted his coffee mug to his lips.

  Heat rose through Whitney, and she really just wanted to go sit down. But Jeremiah just stood there, smiling around at everyone. She linked her arm through his and nudged him, and he finally looked at her.

  “Oh, right, well, we’re over here,” he said, lifting his hand. “Good to see y’all.” He finally continued through the restaurant to the table the hostess had laid their menus on. Whitney sat with her back to the table of cowboys, but the weight of their eyes still lingered on her shoulders. And it was heavy.

  “Wow, ranch ownership meetings on Thursdays,” she said as she unwrapped her silverware. “You’re a man of many layers, Jeremiah Walker.”

  He burst out laughing, and Whitney sure did like the sound of that. She liked that she could make him laugh, and she wondered when the last time she’d felt so happy had been.

  She didn’t know, and she felt herself slipping further in love with the man across the table from her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Is that the one?” Jeremiah peered down at Whitney’s left hand, where she wore a diamond the size of a baseball. Not really, but it was big. Huge. Way bigger than what he’d bought for Laura Ann all those years ago.

  “I do love this one,” she said. “But it’s very expensive.” She looked up at him. “We should get something fake. It’s not like this will become an heirloom.” She kept her voice low, as the saleswoman never seemed to go more than two feet from them.

  Jeremiah didn’t know what to say. True, their wedding wasn’t entirely real. But his feelings for this woman were absolutely real. One-hundred percent real, and growing by the hour.

  He’d thoroughly enjoyed breakfast, and Whitney knew her own mind, so the ring shopping hadn’t taken long at all. She’d tried on four rings before this one, and the way she wouldn’t take it off told him how she really felt.

  “This one,” he said to the saleswoman. “Can she wear it out?”

  “Depends on the sizing,” she said to Whitney. “How does it feel?”

  “It’s great,” she said, holding her hand out to admire the ring.

  Jeremiah moved down the counter with the woman and paid for the ring while someone else took it from Whitney to “make it shine.” If it wasn’t shining already, Jeremiah thought he must be blind.

  His heart flopped around his chest, and he couldn’t believe what was happening. The woman handed his card back to him, and he slid it back into his wallet. He’d just bought an engagement ring.

  He looked at Whitney, almost feeling outside of his body. He’d felt like this before, too—once while he stood at the altar all dressed up for a wedding that wouldn’t happen.

  Then he found himself accepting the posh black bag with a little black box inside it. Whitney laced her arm through his, and they left the jewelry shop. Outside, Jeremiah sucked at the air, panic moving through him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He couldn’t answer. His instinct was to run, and he crossed the street in front of the statue and headed into the bark park. On Saturday at this time, it wasn’t terribly busy, because the sun had already baked the Texas Panhandle to a crisp.

  Still, he found a shaded bench and practically fell onto it. “What am I doing?” he asked under his breath. Is this the right thing to do? he prayed. Because I’ll take this ring back right now. Just tell me what to do, Lord.

  Whitney appeared at his side, and she sat at the other end of the bench, plenty of space between them.

  “I’m….” He didn’t know what to say. “I maybe panicked a little back there.”

  Whitney looked at him, and her beauty struck him right between the eyes. She was kind, and faithful, and hard-working. That dark hair, and those red lips, and the eyes that devoured him every time he looked at her.

  Jeremiah Walker had been in love before, and he knew he was swimming in very dangerous waters at the moment. He gripped the bag with the diamond ring in it as if pure pressure would keep him from falling in love with the woman beside him.

  But in some ways, he already had.

  His mind cleared, and he remembered how whole he’d felt this past week. How miserable he’d been without her at the beginning of the year.

  “Whitney,” he said, his voice even and calm. “I’m a little scared to say this, but….”

  “Just say it,” she said.

  Jeremiah opened his mouth, completely unsure about what would come out. “Will you marry me?”

  Hey, at least it wasn’t I’m falling in love with you. He sure didn’t want to say that while sitting in a smelly, hot dog park. No, that declaration should happen out on the ranch or in her grandfather’s old truck. Somewhere that meant something.

  A smile filled her whole face, and she nodded. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  He fumbled with the bag and then the box while she slid closer to him and held out her left hand. With clarity, he slipped the ring on her finger and admired it.

  His gaze switched to hers, and they leaned toward each other together, her touch almost explosive as he kissed her. He’d never felt anything like it, and he clung to her for an extra moment before pulling away.

  “Okay,” he said, blowing out his breath. “All right. We’re engaged.” A trickle of mania crept through him, and he knew he’d have to make the announcement at dinner tomorrow night. Maybe call a family meeting. Or maybe a text would be good enough.

  “Are you ready for this afternoon?” Whitney asked, cuddling into his side.

  “I honestly don’t know,” he said. “Let’s go over the family again.”

  “We don’t need to do that.” She stood up and held out her hand. “It’s too hot out here. Let’s go back to my place. I can upload my pictures and you can take a nap before the party.”

  A nap sounded heavenly, and Jeremiah couldn’t find anything to argue about. They stopped by the bakery for a dozen of her niece’s favorite doughnuts—raspberry fritters—and Jeremiah parked his truck behind Whitney’s in her driveway.

  He’d been to her house several times in the past, but never inside. She welcomed him in, as did her two cats. He wasn’t entirely a feline person, and the cats seemed to be able to smell his puppies on him. But they didn’t run and hide.

  “Jones and Jess,” she said, introducing them. “And Jeremiah. Lots of J’s around here.” She smiled and hooked her thumb down the hall. “My studio is down here. I’m jus
t going to go get the pictures uploading.”

  “How long does that take?”

  “Two seconds to start,” she said. “About ten minutes or so to get them all imported. Help yourself to coffee or whatever in the kitchen.”

  He nodded, and she left, the cats stalking after her. Jones and Jess were definitely the aloof, snooty type of cat, and Jeremiah just shook his head at their retreating tails. There was no coffee in the kitchen, but plenty of light pouring in the back windows. Whitney had yellow curtains over the sink and along the widows that overlooked the backyard. A cat door had been installed right into the wall, and the only exit along the back of the house led into the garage.

  Everything seemed bright and white, and Whitney didn’t leave dirty dishes out, piles of mail, or anything she’d get to later. Everything was in its proper place, including a mail key that was attached to a keychain that looked like a five-year-old had made it.

  “They probably did,” Jeremiah said to himself, replacing the key in the also obviously homemade bowl on her kitchen counter. She’d put change in there too, and when she joined him in the kitchen, her keys went into the dark green ceramic as well.

  “You didn’t make coffee,” she said.

  “I drank a ton at the pancake house,” he said. “I probably won’t even be able to nap because of it.” He slipped his arms around her waist. He suddenly didn’t want to nap at all. “You have a nice place, Whitney.”

  She melted right into his arms. “Thank you. I love this house. It’s not huge, but it’s nice.”

  “Did you remodel it?”

  “Nope, it came like this.” She swayed with him, pressing her cheek against his.

  Her house smelled like sugar and mint, as did Whitney herself. “I’m glad you have a nice place,” he said. “When you move to the homestead after we’re married, I can pay for it.”

  She pulled away. “You don’t need to do that.”

  He searched her face. “You’re going to keep the house, though, right?”

  “Yes, we talked about that.”