by Mindy Neff
He could handle it, he told himself. They were doing this for the babies.
And for Emily.
She gave so much of herself to others. She deserved reciprocation.
As his wife, she would be respected. Accepted. Provided for.
The people of Shotgun Ridge were generally non-judgmental, but the dynamics of the town were changing. He knew only too well how one insensitive comment could etch scars on a person’s heart, make that person feel unworthy.
Then there were his own beliefs. His people were warriors. They didn’t turn their backs on their own. But they were also big on honor and the revering of women. The elders in his mother’s tribe—the ones who still kept a very close familial eye on his life—would never approve of Emily and him living together unless they were husband and wife. He’d told her he didn’t necessarily practice the Cheyenne ways, but that wasn’t exactly truthful.
He did endeavor to be a man of honor.
And he did care deeply about the opinions of his mother’s people. Living an exemplary, honorable life was part of his atonement for some of the disgraces in his past.
Oh, boy. This could get interesting.
Especially since so many of his memories and fantasies were wrapped up in the very pregnant woman staring wide-eyed at him, her lips still moist from his kiss.
“We…um, probably shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered.
Although his heart was beating like a ceremonial drum, he found that he could laugh at how she’d managed to sound both prim and aroused. Chastising and encouraging.
“Probably not. But it felt pretty good.”
Emily sighed and stepped out of his arms. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she smoothed them over her hair, adjusted her sweater hem. “That’s not, uh, what this marriage thing is about, right? I mean, we don’t want to give either of us the wrong impression….” He was watching her in that way of his that made her toes curl. “Jump in anytime and help me out here,” she said.
“I apologize.”
“You apologize?”
“I shouldn’t have taken advantage.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. In case you weren’t paying attention, I participated, as well.”
“I was paying attention.”
The softness of his voice, the intensity of his eyes, made her heart lurch. “Um, I’m glad to hear it.” She was a little flustered and determined not to show it. “Can you keep a secret?”
“I’ve been known to, yes.”
“I’ve actually wanted to do that for quite a few years.”
“Kiss?”
“Kiss you.”
She’d thought her admission would make him smile. It was a sophisticated, perfectly mature thing to say, a tension breaker.
Instead, he frowned. “Why?”
“Why? Have you looked in the mirror lately?” The man was gorgeous. And exciting.
He shrugged and reached for the poker to stir the fire.
“That was a compliment, Cheyenne.”
“Thank you.”
Well, that was flat as all get-out. His shoulders were stiff and she wondered if she’d made him angry. “Did I offend you?”
He turned to her and his features softened. “My looks have often been a double-edged sword. They’ve branded me a half-breed Indian as a kid, and a sex trophy as a man.”
“Good grief. This is the twenty-first century. Mixed cultures are no big deal.”
“Now they’re not. Twenty-five years ago they were.”
“And it still bothers you?”
“No.”
“Then it must be the sex-trophy thing. I assure you,” she said with a certain amount of vehemence, “I’m hardly looking for one of those!” Frankly it amazed the heck out of her that she’d even inspired that flash of lust in him in the first place. She looked like she’d swallowed a beach ball. Huge and swollen.
He grinned, his features at last relaxed. Lord, the man truly was delicious-looking. Dark and dangerous and thrilling. And gentle. An odd description to toss in among the others, but it was there. And the combination was nothing less than soul stealing.
“So what did you think?”
“Think?” Dear heaven, she was turning into a parrot. But when he looked at her that way, her brain was rendered numb. And the man changed moods faster than a designer could change the color and font on an advertising brochure. It was hard to keep up.
“About the kiss. Was it worth the wait?”
“I don’t think we should be having this conversation.”
“You started it.”
“Yes, and you said you could keep a secret.”
His brows winged up. “But it’s not a secret anymore—especially seeing as it’s between the two of us.”
“Yes, well…” She smiled. “It was pretty good.”
He shouted with laughter. “Man, trouble, if that’s not a challenge, I don’t know what is.”
She held up her hand like a traffic cop. “This is getting out of hand. No challenge. I promise. We’re two adults here. We shared a hot kiss—”
“So now it’s gone from pretty good to hot.”
“Are you looking for a performance rating?”
He chuckled again. “Hell if I know. Should we change the subject?”
“We should, but I have a bit more to say on the, um, subject.” She ignored the amused indulgence in his eyes, because it made her feel things deep inside that she had no business feeling. “We’re adults. I think we can live perfectly fine under the same roof without having to worry about kissing each other.”
“Are you worried about it?”
“Well, once you do something, you usually think about doing it again. Expect it, you know. I mean, I wouldn’t want us both to end up walking on eggshells or for you to think I expected something, just because we’re living together—”
“Married.”
“Yes. Married.” She sighed. She was digging herself a deeper hole, making it sound like this really was a big deal. It wasn’t. Liar. “So, when do you want to do it?”
Oh, brother. That didn’t come out right.
His gazed dipped to her stomach, back to her eyes. She could almost hear his thoughts—or were they her own?
Do it as in sex, kissing or marriage?
It had been many years since she’d experienced this particular phenomenon—being in the wrong place at the wrong time; saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.
She was a professional woman. Talking to people was part of her job. She was good at it, articulate, classy, smart.
And around Cheyenne Bodine, she went completely stupid.
“How about day after tomorrow? Gives you a day to settle in, unpack, get your bearings. I’ll set it up with the courthouse—unless you want to book the church?”
“Oh, no. That doesn’t seem right somehow.” Suddenly doubts swamped her. “Cheyenne, are we doing the right thing? I mean, I don’t want to mess up your life, put pressure on you with your peers over having a woman living with you, but are you sure?”
“We’re going to be these children’s parents. Call me old-fashioned, a product of my heritage, whatever, but I believe in the sanctity of marriage when children are brought into the world.” He tipped her face up with a finger under her chin. “It’s important to me, Emily.”
Oh, when he said it like that, when he looked at her like that, she couldn’t refuse. She was a soft touch. She felt too deeply, worried too much about others.
But there was no help for it.
Cheyenne Bodine needed something from her.
And she was going to give it. Even if she didn’t completely understand the rules or the depth of the need.
It was the same character trait, or fault—one of them, at least—that had brought her here in the first place.
To let Cheyenne hold Jimmy’s children in his arms. To absorb his brother’s essence into his heart. To heal a wound through a miracle of the blood ties that would bind him to
these babies. Bind him to Jimmy. Even after Jimmy’s untimely death.
And if she was perfectly honest, being alone in the pregnancy, facing the future she now faced, changed the dynamics of how she felt.
She’d always thought if she was ever to have children—and that was a very big if because she’d never planned to have her own—she’d only do it if she was married.
Being a married woman—even a divorced woman—would make her life easier. It was difficult to put her finger on how she actually felt. She didn’t fully understand her own thought process. She was projecting herself into the future, worried about what she would tell people. Not that it was anybody else’s business, but people were bound to ask about her marital status, her family life, the father of her children.
In her case, the explanation—if she chose to give one—would be a long and tangled one.
The kids deserved normalcy, deserved to fit in. Surrogacy and in vitro fertilization would likely set them apart and cause problems. When they went to school and the other kids asked about their parents, their daddy, it would be much easier on them to say that their mom and dad were divorced, but that both were still a big part of their lives.
And that raised even more questions.
What would they do when it was time for her to go back to work? How often would Cheyenne make the trip to Seattle? Or would he even make it?
But she wasn’t going to get herself in a dither about all that now. She desperately needed Cheyenne’s help.
But she would not compromise his standing in the community—or with his mother’s people—to get it.
IF EMILY HAD THOUGHT her life had been turned upside down before, now it was in absolute turmoil. She’d been part of the corporate world for so long, entering into relationships that were mainly surface, business.
The people of Shotgun Ridge were as far from surface as they could get. They clucked and clapped and were downright tickled over the wedding.
“I thought you said this was going to be a simple thing,” Emily whispered to Cheyenne. “Did you invite the whole world?” They’d only asked Ozzie Peyton and Iris Brewer to stand up for them.
Yet the courthouse was crammed with people.
Cheyenne looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt. “I’d like to say I’m as surprised as you are, but I’m not. I’ve seen this happen before. Best way to handle it is just go with it.”
Emily took a breath. “I hope I don’t do something stupid.”
Cheyenne tipped up her chin, gazed down at her. “You’ve never done anything stupid.”
“Not intentionally. But when I lived here, something always seemed to happen, you know? I turn into a jinx. Unexpected things pop up when I least expect them.” Like finding herself getting married.
“You’re not a jinx.”
She shrugged. “Let’s just hope my water doesn’t break all over the floor.”
A horrified look crossed his face. “Is that a possibility? I thought you said—”
She reached up and took his hand, easing him with a smile. “I was teasing. The babies really aren’t due for another three weeks. And I should know, since I was there when the little acrobats took root, so to speak.”
He nodded, but still didn’t look wholly convinced. “You’re feeling all right, then?”
“If you don’t count being overwhelmed, I’m fine.”
“Brace yourself,” he said softly. “I think the crowd’s been as patient as they’re going to be. Ozzie Peyton headed our way at four o’clock. If I forget to introduce you to someone, give me a poke in the ribs.”
“Nothing more I love than a wedding, you bet.” Ozzie Peyton shook Cheyenne’s hand, then turned to Emily. “Well, let’s have a look-see at you. You’ve grown up right pretty, you bet.”
“And grown out,” she muttered.
Ozzie laughed, his vivid blue eyes twinkling. “Babies are a joy and we’ve got ourselves a passel of them lately. Mighty fine thing you’re doin’ here.” His eyes softened as they touched on her pregnant stomach. “You have our deepest sympathies on the passing of your sister and Jimmy.”
“Thank you,” Emily said softly, her throat aching suddenly. Debbie had been Emily’s one true friend, and she missed her sister terribly. This was her wedding day. Debbie should have been standing here beside her, holding her hand, laughing and crying and teasing and offering her a tissue.
“Well, now. Didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“No. It’s all right. I’m fine.”
Ozzie nodded. “I’ll just go get me a good ringside seat before the other old farts get the choice ones. You bet.”
When Ozzie moved off, Cheyenne put his arm around her, held her close. His hand slipped up to her neck, beneath her hair. “You okay?”
She nodded, looked up at him. He had lost a loved one, too. “Are you?”
Booming laughter drew their attention. Emily felt Cheyenne’s hand tighten at her shoulder. “The preacher,” he said.
Emily’s heart thumped. “I thought you said this was just a justice-of-the-peace thing.”
“Evidently I got overruled.” He released her and shook hands with the preacher. “Emily Vincent, meet Dan Lucas.”
It took a moment for Emily to find her tongue. The pastor was handsome as sin, with a smile that lit up the room and spontaneous laughter that invited everyone to share.
“I remember you,” she said to Dan. “Excuse my manners, but I’d have never dreamed you’d become a minister.”
Dan laughed. “Ah, you’re remembering my wild and crazy days as a youth, I’m sure. We all go through our trials—schooldays were mine. And my folks’.” He laughed again. “Of course with my dad and brothers all in the ministry, I always knew I’d settle down and follow.”
“Well…uh, congratulations.” Was that the appropriate thing to say?
More laugher. And Emily was drawn right into it, feeling relaxed and wondering how in the world that had happened. This was the least relaxing step she’d ever taken.
“I’m starting to get a complex, with folks trying to slip off and let Judge Lester join their lives,” Dan said. “Especially since our respective sanctuaries are right next door to each other. Not that I begrudge him the chance to perform the happy duties, you understand.”
A tall cowboy with a faint scar running along the side of his face stopped next to them.
“The day you get a complex is the day my horses are going to quit speaking.” He had a gentle, soft-spoken voice, and in his arms he held an infant swaddled in a pink blanket, the child looking incredibly small in his big arms.
Emily was confused. “Don’t you mean start speaking?”
“Stony’s a horse whisperer,” Cheyenne explained. “In his case, those horses do speak to him. Emily Vincent, meet Stony Stratton. The pretty ladies beside him are his wife, Eden, and their daughter, Nikki.”
Eden smiled. “Welcome, Emily.”
Nikki, holding a bouquet of flowers, looked up. “Can I be the flower girl? I’m real good at it. I did it three times, now—for Hannah, Dora and my mommy, Eden.”
The girl, about six, Emily guessed, was precious. “Uh, sure. If you’d like. I had no idea this was going to turn into a wedding…I mean.” She stopped, not sure how to proceed. Why did she continually get so tongue-tied? She was as huge as a potbelly stove, and her pale-blue maternity sweater and gray wool skirt were far from wedding fare. When she’d packed her clothes and made her decision to seek out Cheyenne, she’d hadn’t realized she’d be attending one.
Especially as the bride.
Eden Stratton laid a hand on Emily’s arm. “You look beautiful. I’m sorry if we’ve overwhelmed you.” She laughed softly, her strong Southern accent lending an extra air of friendliness to her voice. “I’ve been in your place myself. But there’s no stopping the wonderful people in this town, so just enjoy.”
“I’ll try. I feel…” Her words trailed off. She didn’t really know how she felt. Like a fraud. Conspicuous. Scared sill
y.
“I know,” Eden said, and Emily realized that she did. It was in the gentleness of her voice, the openness of her eyes. Woman-to-woman communication. “Who’s standing up for you?”
“Iris Brewer.”
“Here I am,” Iris said, hurrying into the courthouse. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Land sakes, I had a fire to put out. Literally. It was only on the grill at the saloon, but—” Her hurried words broke off as she put her hands on Emily’s shoulders, held her at arm’s length. “Oh, you’re positively glowing. Pregnancy does that to a woman.”
In a motherly fashion, Iris drew Emily into an embrace that caused a plethora of emotions to lodge in Emily’s throat.
“Thank you for asking me to stand up for you, hon. It’s been a lot of years since you’ve seen me, and I probably seem like a stranger to you, but we’ll fix that right quick, shall we?” She hugged harder, infusing Emily with acceptance and love.
“Thank you,” Emily whispered, swallowing hard. She nearly lost her battle with her unpredictable emotions when Iris gave an extra squeeze in understanding and compassion.
When they’d spoken on the phone yesterday, Iris had asked about Emily’s parents, whom she’d known from the days the Vincents lived in Shotgun Ridge.
Emily hadn’t been able to bring herself to admit the truth. That her dad wasn’t in the picture and that her mother simply wasn’t interested in her life. So she’d fibbed a bit and said that there wasn’t time for her mom to get here.
And Iris had promptly clucked like a mother hen and lovingly stepped in.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” the pastor said. “Now that we’ve got the best man and matron of honor, we can get to it. Time enough to introduce you around after the ceremony.”
Despite Pastor Dan’s efforts to move them along, Emily ended up being introduced to most of her impromptu guests, her head spinning with all the new names and faces. Some she recognized from high school, some she didn’t.
She met Wyatt and Hannah Malone and their children, five-year-old Ian, and one-year-old Meredith. Then Ethan and Dora Callahan and their children, two-year-old Katie and three-month-old Ryan. Ethan’s two brothers—who didn’t have wives or children, saving Emily from having to remember even more names—were there, also.