by Jean Oram
“What’s that?”
“I want something certain and settled,” she declared. “All this indecision and pussyfooting around everyone and our relationship is driving me nuts. Why should anyone else determine what we do or don’t do?”
Brant felt his eyebrows shoot up. Her firmness over settling the uncertainty was new. He angled his truck to face the upcoming fireworks show over the town, then shut off the engine.
“So we should risk it, and get serious then?” he asked, not daring to hope that the answer might be yes. He undid his seat belt and shifted to face her.
Her bottom lip was tucked under her top teeth, her eyes large. She had an idea. He could see it in her expression, something fun and wild and fully April MacFarlane.
“Good things happen?” she asked.
He let out a huff of air, thinking that yeah, maybe good things were going to happen as a result of tonight’s fight in the saloon. But for the life of him, he couldn’t predict exactly what.
“Here we are again?” April quirked her lips. Her tone was lighter than it had been in days and it reminded him of their youth, of trail rides after rainstorms, when they’d go venturing out to see what had changed on the landscape. She’d been excited any time the creek flooded or a tree was downed.
Brant had angled his knees toward April, his arm over the back of the seat. He gently caressed her cheek. It was so soft, and touching it calmed a part of him. Her lashes lowered as she relaxed into the caress.
Again, the change within her took him by surprise. He wasn’t certain what it was about, only knew it had something to do with them and their relationship.
Smiling, he settled into the seat, into the moment. “We’re still here, April,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “Right where we’ve always been. But we’ve also never been here before. Not like this.”
She angled herself toward him, her knees pressing into his. “No?”
“No. This is different.”
“How do you know?”
“Kiss me. You’ll see.”
“Will I?” She shifted closer, her warm cinnamon smell encompassing him.
“You’ll know everything you don’t already know.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
As their kiss slowly waned, and they broke apart, April knew. Finally.
She drew in a deep breath, checking herself for doubts. There were none.
She could see the answer, what she wanted to do.
“Do you want to kill a bunch of rumors?” she asked.
“I don’t want to break up with you or wait even longer,” Brant said, nuzzling her neck and peppering her with slow kisses that made her head spin and her thoughts scatter.
“I’m not asking you to,” she said, struggling to focus. “I’m suggesting something opposite. Something that would kill the rumors around Cole, smarten up Heath and his games, protect Kurt, and let us move on with our lives by putting it in high gear.”
“High gear?” He’d found a spot that made her shiver, and he gently worked the area with his lips as she crooked her neck to give him better access. They were steaming up the truck’s windows as the air in the cab became cozy and warm, blocking out the chilly night that surrounded them.
Her conviction was building within her, arguments for her idea coming one after another. Excitement swelled, and Brant, sensing a change, eased back so he could check her expression. He edged back even farther, but didn’t argue, just gazed at her, somehow giving her conviction more strength. If her idea was dumb, she knew he’d say no. If he didn’t genuinely feel something for her, if he was just attracted to her because of the problems he could fix, he’d say so.
“I want to do something that will help me move forward and make a clean break into my new life. I want to be stable. I want to be happy. I want to leave the past behind. I know what I want, Brant.”
“You’ve done so much in the past few weeks, April.” He was looking worried, and she gave his hand a squeeze, her giddiness growing.
“I know I have, and I’ve built momentum toward the life I want. Now it’s time to act.”
“So, you’d like to date?” There was hope in his voice.
“Brant,” she said soberly, waiting for him to give her his full attention. “The lights were still on in Old Man Lovely’s chapel.”
He stilled, barely breathing. “What are you saying?”
Sensing his alarm gave her pause. What was she saying? That she wanted to marry Brant? Shouldn’t they date first?
But why wouldn’t she marry him? If they dated, this was where they’d end up. She was certain of it. He was wonderful. Stable. A lifelong friend she knew and understood. She trusted him. He was husband material. Father material. An amazing partner and pal. They never fought, and whenever their routines overlapped, it felt natural. Weren’t her friends telling her that was what was vital? Not the craziness she’d had in the past?
She held Brant’s hand, considering how serious she was. The more she thought about him and all he offered, and all they could be together as a couple, the more certain she became. He rocked her socks off with his kisses. And hadn’t humiliated her by trying to prove his manhood in the saloon, but had stood his ground while protecting her, without hurting anyone.
And the way he made her heart beat faster when he entered any room she was in? There were no more boxes to check on her list.
Yes, marriage was rushing things a bit, but it would also hurtle them right over any uncertainty and into their happily ever after, killing all the rumors that were swirling about.
“Do you want to settle down?” she asked.
“This is big, April. Really big. You just got out of a marriage.”
She nodded, then shook her head. “But that was two people trying to do the right thing. Heath and I weren’t ever really in love. I’m not on the rebound, Brant.” She’d never felt about Heath the way she felt about Brant.
“You think this will stop rumors, and help you with Heath?” He was rubbing his chin, looking out the windshield.
“I’m not asking you to rescue me. Don’t do this unless you want to be with me.”
“I want to be with you,” he replied quickly. So quickly she knew it was true.
She bit her lip to prevent a huge grin from breaking free. He was considering it, really considering it.
“I want to be with you, Brant.” She slipped her hand into his. “And this could fix a lot of things. Like you said the other day, why waste time?” It would be so much easier if they were together. Matrimony would prove he wasn’t just rescuing her. And it would prove to those who felt she’d used Brant to get out of her marriage with Heath that she wanted Brant in her life for other reasons, too. It would also show them there was no Cole in her heart. Just Brant. Just the two of them and their growing feelings for each other.
And if Jenny’s job at the boutique came through, she’d soon be more independent, too. She’d be able to contribute, to carry some of the weight Brant was handling. This could become the true partnership she was looking for.
“Once we remove everyone else, it’s just us. And we work.”
“Are you sure?” Brant asked.
She’d never been more certain of anything in all her adult life other than her love for her son. She’d had to drag herself down the aisle with Heath, but with Brant she had a feeling she’d be skipping merrily, smiling the entire time.
“I am if you are.”
“It would be nice to settle things.” His fingers were laced in hers. “But you know he probably won’t pay you support if you marry me. And there’s a chance it’ll only make things worse.”
She nodded. They watched each other for a long minute, the quiet reminding her of times when they were teens and would simply be in the moment, sharing it together.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Brant asked. “This isn’t some wild and crazy MacFarlane trait rearing its head?”
She snorted, resenting the
implication that she was still a wild and crazy kid.
“Brant…” She grew serious, squeezing his hand. “I’m more sure than when Carmichael gave me that horse I knew was gonna win rodeo.”
Cookies.
Brant exhaled and gave a curt nod, his eyes dancing although he remained quiet as he turned over the engine in his truck and began driving back toward the chapel on the hill.
The lights were on, Sweetheart Creek’s couple of the year still undecided.
But not for long.
April stood in front of Old Man Lovely in her tight blue dress, feeling giddy, bold and brave. She glanced at Brant. He was smiling. They were really going to do this.
“With the power vested in me by the state of Texas, I declare you husband and wife. May your marriage be long and fruitful.”
April giggled, turning to Brant.
“You may kiss the bride, if you so please.” Old Man Lovely snapped a photo of them, then tipped his hat and took a step back from the polished lectern, his back curved with age.
April expected a perfunctory kiss from Brant, but he pulled her into his arms, holding her as though she’d always belonged there. Their kiss went on long enough that Old Man Lovely cleared his throat.
“Electricity’s not free, you know. I already had to wait several hours for you two to find your way up the hill to my chapel. Now if you don’t mind, my dogs are barking.” He shifted from one “dog” to the other in his worn boots.
Brant took April by the hand and, laughing, they tore out of the tiny chapel, calling out a thank-you to Old Man Lovely, who closed the white wooden door behind them with a soft click.
“Now what?” April asked. She felt energized, like she could stay up all night.
“We celebrate?” Brant suggested.
“Yes! Should we get a drink at the Watering Hole?”
He frowned.
“Right. Let’s not go back there. How about a honeymoon?” She giggled at the thought, and they both looked away from each other right after their eyes met.
They walked toward Brant’s truck hand in hand.
“We can go back to my place,” she suggested. “Ryan made me a bottle of sparkling wine in anticipation of my divorce. He said it should be good enough to drink by now, but I haven’t had the chance to share it with anyone.”
“That sounds great.”
At the truck Brant held the door for April and she smiled. “Good thing I wore a dress tonight.”
“Bet you didn’t see your evening ending in quite this way,” Brant said, and before she could climb into the truck, he tugged her closer for a kiss. His embrace felt marvelous, and she couldn’t think of a better way to ring in a New Year.
A bang echoed through the quiet night, followed by a high-pitched whizzing sound. A shower of colored sparks rained down over the distant town as they turned to look.
“Fireworks,” Brant murmured, his lips barely leaving hers in the process.
April wrapped her arms around his neck. “If you think those are fireworks, you just wait and see.”
She laughed at his expression, then curled into his arms to watch the display from their spot beside the truck. Brant scooted away for a second to turn on the truck’s radio. Each year Davis Davies, the Sweetheart Creek DJ, coordinated music to go with the fireworks show, and tonight was no exception. He’d chosen classical music, and the timing of the explosions worked well with the tune, building into crescendo after crescendo.
Brant grabbed the blanket he kept in the backseat for emergencies and wrapped it around them, drawing April into his arms. She snuggled in, content to ring in the New Year beside the man who had always been there for her. Now her husband.
She nearly giggled at the unexpected happiness that swept through her. Husband.
How had she not noticed Brant as something other than a friend when they were teenagers? Had her rebellious streak been so strong she’d been unable to see clearly? Or had she needed to drag herself through hell in order to find heaven?
Oh, the headaches and sleepless nights she must have caused the adults in her life. She hoped Kurt hadn’t inherited her wild genetic mix. Although he likely had double, a dose from each parent.
“You used to drive Heath crazy, you know,” April said, aware after she said it that Brant likely didn’t want to talk about her ex on what was now their wedding night. A New Year’s Eve wedding. Romantic. Special.
“What do you mean?” His body stiffened, and she wondered how his ribs felt.
“The way you stayed in touch after I got married, always checking in on me.” He’d often dropped by, not only with something for her or Kurt but also to help her fix something or other in the old farmhouse.
She’d appreciated it, but it had riled Heath to know her family felt as though she needed the help, as well as checking up on.
And she had. She’d tried to be happily married to Heath, but every year she’d failed.
“He said you had a crush on me.” And the fights they’d had over that. They’d been big. Some of the biggest.
“Of course I did,” Brant said mildly, his arms tightening around her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
She laughed, unsure whether or not he was being serious. “I appreciated you checking in. For caring.” Her voice broke on that last word. She forced herself to say, “I worried what your family thought of me.”
“Why?”
“Because I inadvertently sent Cole away. I got pregnant. I married someone else. I know people thought I was going to marry Cole, and then I didn’t.”
“It wasn’t you who sent Cole away. Not for that long.”
“I told him I needed space to breathe, and the next thing I knew he was gone. I hadn’t meant for him to leave. We’d been fighting, and I was feeling lost and confused and scared. I was afraid I was going to go back to him, even though I knew it was the wrong thing. I’d known for a long time that Cole and I were over, but I kept getting pulled back into his world and the familiarity of our ups and downs. I needed to try things with Heath. For Kurt’s sake.”
She waited for Brant to speak, while the fireworks rained over the town. She needed him to know the truth, more so now that their lives were entwined.
“There’s more to Cole leaving,” Brant said, his tone saying he didn’t want to discuss it further. “Don’t blame yourself.”
She sighed in frustration. “You don’t need to make me feel better. I know what I did to him and your family.”
“April, listen.” He tipped her chin his way, his gaze earnest. “If you asked for some space, and he stayed away for five years, that’s not on you.”
“What else would have kept him away from his family, his friends, his home?”
Brant was quiet for a long moment, his body tense.
“What?”
“I had a few words with him before he left.”
“What did you say?” April turned to face him fully, ignoring the fireworks.
“I told him he should stay. That he should take care of you. That you weren’t meant to be with Heath.”
“Why?”
“I thought it was for the best. I was wrong.”
“How do you know?”
He watched her for a long moment. “I don’t. But I know that I don’t want to talk about him right now.”
On the radio, Davis Davies brought in the New Year, and Brant gave April a sweet kiss that curled her toes and made her forget everything but the man holding her.
“Happy New Year, April Wylder.”
6
“Hello?” Out of habit, Brant had his cell phone to his ear before he was fully awake. Something was on his left arm, and his bed felt softer than the one at Carmichael’s. Where had he fallen asleep?
“It’s mine,” April said, rolling off his arm to collect her phone from the bedside table nearest her.
“Sorry,” Brant muttered groggily. He lifted his head and peered around April’s bedroom. Light was streaming in through the open
curtains and they were on top of the covers, fully clothed, Ryan’s homemade champagne gone. April had been curled into his side, his arm tucked under her.
She sat up, gripping her phone. “Hey, Maria. Happy New Year!” Her voice sounded a bit too high, a bit too tight, as though she was hiding something.
Brant felt a jolt of panic.
They’d gotten married last night. Eloped.
It had hurt his mom to discover Ryan had done the same thing years ago. She’d found out only recently, and while she had tried to hide her pain, Brant had seen it. Now he’d repeated what Ryan had done—slipped away to get married without telling a soul.
Why couldn’t he have taken some time and treated April and his family to a proper wedding?
Because he’d been afraid she would back out?
What kind of man was he if that was his big motivator for moving fast?
He groaned and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“A fever?” April said into the phone. “How bad?”
“Kurt?” Brant asked, turning to watch her.
Kurt. His stepson. He was a stepdad.
He felt the smile start, but then thought of what Kurt might think or feel when he found out. The boy might not be ready to have his father replaced in his mother’s heart.
Why hadn’t Brant thought of that last night? He’d been so wrapped up in April’s kisses and a caveman-like urge to pull her away from Heath and Cole so he could stake his claim as her number-one man. He had agreed with her argument about quieting the rumors, but hadn’t thought about the ones they might start with such a hasty wedding right after her divorce, or what it could do to their families.
April’s forehead crinkled, and she held her phone out to check the screen. She tapped it a few times. “It died. Can I borrow yours?” She reached across the bed, palm up. “Kurt’s running a fever.”
Brant’s phone rang in his hand. He answered it.
“Hello?”
“You’re with April,” his mother stated, her voice even, revealing no hint of surprise.
They had come here last night, settled in with the champagne and a mostly ignored movie on April’s tablet, sometimes kissing, sometimes laughing and joking like best friends, until they’d fallen asleep before dawn. Not once had they discussed a plan for today.