“Thanks.” Shay took the pill and gulped it down, then realized belatedly she’d be drowsy for hours. Perfect.
“I have to finish the weeds,” Olivia said. “You really should take a load off.”
Olivia scampered down the porch steps and plopped back down in the vegetable garden. “Mr. McCoy’s gonna show me where he carved your initials in a tree when you were boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Shay narrowed a look at Travis. She had a few choice words for Mr. McCoy. But the words would keep till they were inside, out of Olivia’s earshot.
Shay jerked the screen door open and hobbled through. Her foot was throbbing like a son of a gun, and she felt like screeching at the top of her lungs. Once inside, she faced him, scowling. “Who do you think you are—”
“Sit down.”
“Coming over here, doing my chores, making my daughter promises?”
“Sit down, Shay.”
“First of all, the initials are probably long gone—”
“Do I have to pick you up and put you on that couch?”
Fine. She sank onto the sofa and glared. Happy?
He pushed over the ottoman, and she propped her splinted foot on it before he could do that for her too. Then he perched on the edge of the recliner.
Her head was beginning to throb now, and she just wanted him gone.
“Actually, our initials are still there, but we have more pressing matters to discuss.”
“I can’t imagine what.”
“I’m sure you can’t.” He ran a hand over his jaw, his trademark move.
She wondered what was troubling him. Had Olivia done something? Confessed something? She remembered the bike her daughter had stolen the year before and felt a moment’s panic. But Olivia had been truly sorry. Shay was sure she’d learned her lesson.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Hang on to your hat . . . It’s about the Founders Day thing. There was some kind of mistake.”
“Founders Day thing?”
“The ceremony.”
She thought about the way he’d looked at her at the end of the ceremony. Then she recalled the way his lips had thoroughly ravished her own. Warmth flooded her cheeks.
“It seems we’re legally married.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. “What?”
“Our marriage license was there—it blew off the pedestal, remember?”
She shook her head, trying to clear the fog that was closing in.
“Pastor Blevins sent it to the county office by mistake, with a few others he’d found clumped in his Bible—you know how he is.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I got the official certificate in the mail.” His gaze went right through her. “We’re married, Shay.”
It was just a silly mistake. “Well, call and tell them what happened.”
“I did. The certificate has been validated and filed.”
“Well, tell them to unvalidate it!”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
She shook her head. “Our license was fourteen years old.”
“There’s no expiration date on a Wyoming license.”
“Well, it’s a Wyoming license, and the ceremony was in—”
“Wyoming. Bridal Falls, remember?”
“Of course I remember.” She rubbed her temple. “This is absurd. There must be something—the whole town was there, and everyone knows it was just—”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“How could our intentions not matter?” Like she’d ever marry him on purpose. Choose to blend their lives together, to wake up beside him every morning.
That was it. That was their out. “We didn’t consummate the vows!” She felt a smile building and looked at Travis.
His gray eyes dimmed, like someone had turned down the lights. “Don’t have to be so happy about that.”
She realized what she’d said, and her face burned hotter at the thought of him . . . of her . . . of them. She swallowed hard. Focus, Shay.
She’d stumbled upon something important. Something vital. Relief flowed through her, making her limbs go weak. “That settles it, then. It’s just a matter of going down there and straightening this out.”
Travis removed his hat and dangled it between his knees. He rubbed his jaw again.
Then he looked at her. “Wyoming doesn’t require vows to be consummated. I turned over every stone, Shay, believe me. I was on the phone with the county office for an hour first thing this morning. Like it or not, we’re officially husband and wife.”
It couldn’t be. It. Could. Not. Be. She shook her head. Denial. What she needed here was a little healthy denial.
But the look on Travis’s face refuted it. The way he stared calmly at her, as if it were a done deal. As if waiting for that reality to set in for her.
And then it did. It came and sat on her like a two-ton cow.
She was married to Travis at last. It would be funny if it weren’t so blame pathetic. Oh, the town would have a heyday with this one. She’d be the butt of every joke from now till Jesus returned.
Now would be good, God. Can You just come back now?
She waited, closed her eyes, just in case her prayer activated the whole end-times sequence.
But no, she was still sitting here, head and foot pounding angrily. She opened her eyes, and there Travis was too. Still looking at her with those deep eyes that saw everything.
A shadow danced across his jaw as he clenched it. In these few moments, she’d been so wrapped up in her own feelings, she hadn’t considered his perspective. Not until now.
Her laugh came out harsh, sardonic. “Well, this really blows for you, doesn’t it, McCoy. Getting out of wedlock this time is going to be a little harder than putting your truck in gear and heading south. You might have to fill out some paperwork, shell out some money. Oh, and our neighbors! You might have to face them like a man this time. Might have to see them whispering behind their hands and looking at you with pity. These things are public, you know. Even an annulment will be made public—and I’m assuming we qualify for that since we have not and will never consummate those stupid vows—”
She didn’t run out of steam. She had plenty more to say. But her voice was starting to wobble, and her eyes were starting to burn, and she would not let him see her cry.
Pull it together, Shay. Quick. She swallowed past the fist in her throat and distracted herself by counting the pulse beats in her foot. Bom-bom. Bom-bom. Bom-bom.
“I’m really sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” She wasn’t so blind with anger that she didn’t see he was a victim here too.
“Not about this.”
There was a new look on his face, one she hadn’t seen before. His eyes turned down at the corners. Sorrow? Frustration? Regret? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“I’m sorry about before. Sorry for the embarrassment I caused you. I was young and immature and—”
“Stupid.”
A corner of his lip tucked in. “Yeah. Plenty of that.”
“A little late for apologies.”
“Way overdue.”
“Got that right.”
So he was sorry. So what? His apology didn’t undo the pain and suffering. Didn’t change how his bad choices had led to her bad choices.
“How do we get this ridiculous farce-of-a-marriage over with?”
He turned his hat in his hands. Got up, ambled over to the picture window, and looked out over the yard, where her daughter was probably still hunkered over the weed-ridden garden. He crossed his arms, taking his good ol’ time. His silhouette was long and sturdy. He was a good six inches taller than Garrett had been.
Brawnier.
She looked away.
“How’s your foot?”
His question took her aback. “Fine.” Maybe not fine, but the pill was starting to kick in. She had to get him out of here before she was slumped over the sofa wit
h drool trickling from her mouth.
“Travis. What do we have to do?”
She wanted to get this over with as quickly and quietly as possible. Why was he taking all day to answer? Why was he looking out the window as if they had all the time in the world? As if—
He walked back, sat beside her on the sofa this time. Close enough she could smell his shampoo, far enough she couldn’t protest.
He turned toward her. “Just hear me out.”
She studied his gray eyes. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”
“Got an idea, something that would benefit us both.”
That look in his eyes, that expectant tone in his voice . . . it sent dread snaking through her veins.
She shook her head. “No. Whatever it is, no.”
“Are you in danger of losing your ranch?”
His gentle tone didn’t soften the effect. She wondered if John Oakley had leaked her private business. “My finances are no business of yours, McCoy.”
“What if I could help?”
She had her pride. It was about all she had sometimes, but still. “I can manage on my own, thank you.” She’d manage all right. In a short time she’d manage herself and Olivia right off the property.
“Where’s Beau? I half expected to see him here this morning.”
She didn’t want to talk about Beau. Not to Travis. “I forgot to call.”
“How serious are the two of you?”
“That’s your business, how?”
He shrugged. “Wondering how the news of our marriage was going to hit him.”
“It’s not a marriage, it’s a mistake.”
“I’ve got a proposal, Shay.”
She tilted her head. “Last one didn’t stick too well.”
“Just hear me out.”
Shay stifled a yawn. Durn pills. She may as well suffer through whatever he had stuck in his craw. That was the only way she was gonna get him out of there.
“Spill it.”
He leaned forward, and his hair fell over his forehead. Her fingers twitched with the impulse to reach out and push it back. She knotted her fist.
“You already had your hands pretty full. Now you’re under doctor’s orders to stay off your foot a week. Even after that, you’ll be on crutches awhile.”
“Thanks for the recap.”
“I have the time and know-how to run things until you’re back on your feet.”
It was true. She didn’t have to like it, but it was true.
“And I’m willing. I also have the wherewithal to carry this place through the summer and beyond. Feed, fencing supplies, groceries, whatever you need.”
He had no idea how much she needed and how quickly. “I don’t need your money.”
That wasn’t true. She didn’t want to need his money.
But she had Olivia to think of. Olivia who needed a roof over her head, Olivia whose jeans were inching farther north each week, Olivia who would need milk money and school supply money and a heated house come fall. But money didn’t grow on trees. Shay was fresh out, and no one else was offering.
Still, nothing was free. “What’s the catch?”
There was one. She could see it in the way he eyed her warily, as if appraising her readiness to hear whatever he was about to say. The look sped her heart and dried her mouth. Before she could stop him, his words filled the thick space between them.
“I want us to stay married.”
13
Shay’s head was fuzzy, her thinking cloudy. The pills. She hadn’t heard right. He hadn’t just suggested they make this marriage real.
“Hear me, Shay? I want us to stay married.”
“What the heck. Stop saying that.”
“Give it five months. Think about it . . . I can fill in around here, relieve you of financial strain, offer some stability for Olivia. Wouldn’t it be nice not to worry about money for once?”
“Stop it! What kind of harebrained idea—This was a mistake.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Am I?”
He had to be. Because from her perspective this seemed awful one-sided. She got the help. She got the money. Maybe he was lonely for a woman and weary of the unwanted strings necessary to get one. Maybe he remembered the chemistry they’d had once upon a time, the sizzle that arced between them whenever they’d touched.
He was out of his mind if he thought she was joining that circus again. She crossed her arms. “What’s in it for you, McCoy?”
He looked down at his fingers, toying with the brim of his hat. Then he shot her a look that made her breath catch. That set her veins on fire and weakened her limbs.
“I want another chance, Shay.”
Another . . . what? He couldn’t mean it that way. Yet he was looking at her like . . .
Worse yet, an invisible force tugged at her heart, trying to convince her to believe something she knew was reckless and foolish. After all he’d done, after all the pain she’d gone through, she had to admit he still had a hold on her.
Travis watched Shay blink once, watched the confusion dance across her face like ripples over a river. He’d made her speechless, not an easy task.
“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said. “But I’m asking just the same.”
Shay sprang to her feet. Then her broken foot hit the floor beside the other. “Blame it!”
Travis stood, reached toward her. “Shay—”
She swatted his hand away and sank back onto the cushions. “Get out.”
Her breaths came hard and heavy. Her face was flushed, whether with anger or exertion he wasn’t sure. Still, this was the only chance he was going to get.
“Not until I finish.”
She shot him a look. Her nose flared.
She was a captive audience if there ever was one, and she knew it. But maybe a little space was in order. He paced across the room and leaned against the windowsill.
“I’m only asking for five months. I’ll run things around here till you’re back on your feet. After that we can work side by side. I’ll foot the bill—pardon the pun—for anything you need. Anything at all.”
Did he sound too desperate? Because he was. He’d take her back at any cost, but he couldn’t let her know that.
“What kind of game is this?”
“It’s no game, Shay.” If she only knew how serious he was. “I have regrets.”
He’d already scared the tar out of her. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she’d shot from the sofa. She was as spooked as a cornered cat. Maybe he shouldn’t have told her he wanted a second chance. Maybe he should’ve made something up.
But he wasn’t going into this with trickery. He was shooting straight, right from the get-go. If that spooked her, so be it. Lucky for him, she didn’t have many options.
“Don’t you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d gotten married?” he asked.
“No, I don’t.”
He hoped that wasn’t true. If it was, he really had his work cut out. “Five months. A real effort to make this work.”
“And when it doesn’t?”
He didn’t like her pessimism. “If it doesn’t . . . I’ll leave. I’ll give you an annulment—if that’s still an option . . .”
She was shaking her head, clutching the pillow against her stomach like her life depended on it. “No.”
What did he go and say that for?
“Don’t need your answer now. Mull it over.” He put his hat on his head.
“Don’t need to.”
He glanced out the window. “Olivia’s ’bout done with the weeding. All right if I keep my promise?”
Her lips pressed together. She was tempted to say no, but she wouldn’t. “Fine. Have her back in an hour. And not one word of this.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Stay off that foot now.” He left just in time. The pillow hit the door right behind him.
&nb
sp; 14
Mr. McCoy showed me how to skip rocks.” Olivia moved her bowl closer on the TV tray. She’d fixed a corn and black bean salad for them after Shay had insisted that Travis finally leave.
Shay hadn’t had a pain pill in hours, not wanting to doze off again, but she was taking one before bed, that was for sure.
“He can make ’em skip, like, ten or twelve times. I’m not that good yet, but he told me if you pick a real flat one . . .”
Shay set the fork on her empty plate and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. All she’d heard since Olivia had returned was Mr. McCoy this, Mr. McCoy that. She was going to gag at the next mention of his name.
“. . . and Mr. McCoy said . . .”
Heaven help me.
She’d been napping when they returned—hadn’t woken until afternoon. By then Travis had fixed the corral fence, organized the tack room, and apparently held the world on its axis.
She couldn’t get his offer off her mind, crazy as it was. She even called the county clerk’s office, making sure it was just as Travis said.
Still, they could file for an annulment. A little paperwork, a little time, and all this would be over. Only one thing had stopped her from doing it.
Her ranch. She needed the money and the help. They’d only managed today because of Travis. Her friends had ranches of their own, financial problems of their own. The recession had hit everyone hard.
Everyone except Travis, apparently.
One minute she’d find herself thinking this was the perfect solution. It would give them half a shot at stability, if only for five months. But if she was smart, she could set them up for the future. Could make some investments that would pay dividends down the road and give her enough operating capital to keep things going long term.
Then she’d remember the look in his eyes.
She didn’t need that. Didn’t want his . . . whatever it was. How could she protect her heart for five long months? Waking to him every morning, working side by side, sitting across from him meal after meal after meal.
And then she’d decided, no. She couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t risk her heart with a man who’d already cut and run once before. Wouldn’t face the whispers when everyone thought they were together again. The looks of pity when—
The lights went out, and the whirring fan of the air conditioner went quiet.
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