Spur-Of-The-Moment Marriage

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Her quiet understanding allowed him to go on.

  “Unable to get a job because I was so young and had no phone or permanent address, not to mention a decent haircut, clothes or a bath, I learned to scavenge food from restaurant garbage bins and became adept at stealing, and that’s how I survived for nearly two years.” To his relief, Gillian did not look as horrified as he thought she might by his nefarious past. Instead, she seemed to understand and empathize with his plight to the point he was able to tell her the rest.

  Where their hands were still linked, he entwined his fingers intimately with hers and recounted what had been the turning point in his young life. “One day, I picked Max’s pocket. He caught me in the act and gave me a choice. Cops and jail, or one month of hard labor at his Silver Spur Ranch.”

  Gillian smiled. “That sounds like Max.”

  Cisco nodded. “You know it.” Feeling restless, Cisco got up and sat back against the base of the tree that was providing their shade. Needing her close, Cisco took Gillian’s hand and tugged her next to him. Seconds later, she was tucked in the shelter of his arm.

  One hand curled around her waist, Cisco continued. “Fearing he’d throw me back to Social Services again, and another series of foster homes, or worse— a juvenile detention facility—I gave Max a made-up name, Cisco Kidd, like the famous outlaw. And I opted for the stint on Max’s ranch, thinking I’d go there but run away again the first chance I got. But something happened when I got out here.” Cisco shot a glance toward the granite mountain, rising majestically beyond the flower-filled meadow. He shook his head, recalling all he’d felt at being confronted with such a place. “It was so beautiful and clean and safe. So I decided to stay, at least for a day or two.”

  “Still, it must have been quite an adjustment for you,” she ventured softly, laying her head against his shoulder.

  Cisco nodded, recalling just how tough it had been as he stroked a hand down the wildly curling softness of her long auburn hair. “I was a real city kid, and I had a chip on my shoulder the size of a Montana boulder. But Max hung in there and took me under his wing.” Cisco paused, remembering how much his life had changed for the better then—almost as much—and as fast—as it was changing now with Gillian in his life.

  He shifted Gillian, so she was sitting on his lap. “Before I knew it, Max had quietly gotten foster guardianship of me from the state and helped me legally keep the new name I’d facetiously chosen for myself and had come to like. He taught me the basics of ranching, logging and business, so if I ever left again I’d have job skills that would enable me to earn a living, and then he talked me into getting my GED. Once I’d accomplished that, and it didn’t take very long with Max, Patience, Trace and Cody all tutoring me, Max dared me to try college and law school.”

  Cisco grinned, recalling the satisfaction he’d felt as he met goal after goal. “Again, with the help and support of the McKendricks, I succeeded. When I graduated and passed the bar exam, Max set me up in private practice and trusted me with his legal affairs. Since then I’ve tried hard to follow Max’s example and lend a helping hand to anyone in need,” he said in conclusion, proud of the progress he’d made.

  “Like me?” Gillian guessed.

  Cisco grew very still. “I admit my own experience left me with a sixth sense,” he said, tightening his arm around her. “Having been there myself, I can just look at someone and know if they’re running from the law or whatever. When I see they are,” he admitted frankly, “I try to help.”

  “I see.”

  Cisco could tell by the way she tensed and slid off his lap that she disapproved of what some referred to as his charity work. “It’s not a bad thing, Gillian,” he said gently.

  Gillian’s lips tightened and her green eyes shimmered with hurt. “I’m sure the many women you’ve helped would agree,” she tossed back, referring no doubt to a comment Pearl had made at the wedding reception.

  Her slender shoulders stiffening, Gillian continued. “Considering the fact you took me in and married me—a person who undoubtedly has her own mysterious or nefarious past—Max must be very happy. After all, by taking me in and taking an interest in me, you’re following directly in his footsteps, aren’t you?”

  Cisco heard the raw, humiliated note in her voice and damned himself for it. His lips tightened in frustration as he tried to explain. “Max doesn’t control my life, Gillian—”

  “But…”

  “You’re right to think he’d be pleased to know how close we’ve become.” Because like it or not, Cisco admitted to himself, this was what Max had wanted for them.

  CISCO’S ACKNOWLEDGMENT shouldn’t have hurt her, but it did. It shouldn’t have angered her, Gillian thought, but it did. She had wanted him to deny her softly voiced supposition. Tell her he was his own man. That he made his own decisions, and that he was as independent at heart and in spirit as she was. She wanted him to tell her he hadn’t married her or made love to her because he was trying to repay some cosmic debt or felt sorry for her or had been trying to help her out of a jam. She wanted him to say he had married her because he had been as drawn to her as she was to him.

  Instead, Cisco had calmly acknowledged he had gone the extra mile in order to both help her and follow Max’s example as an exemplary humanitarian. Which led her to the next question. Had Cisco really made love to her last night because he had wanted her as desperately and completely as she wanted him? Or because it was expected of him, because “McKendrick men” were not only as wild and untamed as the Montana land they owned, but were expected to be white knights who were gallant, and sexy, and ultraprotective/possessive of the women in their lives?

  She hated to think Cisco had reached out to her as a way of proving his mettle to Max and keeping up with the other McKendrick men. But she had to acknowledge, given the wild courtships and marriages of Cody, Patience and Trace McKendrick, that it was a possibility.

  Gillian sighed, upset.

  Maybe she would be better off treating this partnership as a business opportunity that would challenge her professionally and ensure her financial wellbeing for the rest of her life—as she’d originally intended—instead of regarding Cisco as a man who would love her the rest of her life. Because to do otherwise, Gillian mused as Max’s Silver Spur Ranch pickup truck abruptly came roaring through the trees, meant she would only get hurt.

  “YOU’RE MISTAKEN,” Max said, short minutes later, after he’d met up with them and returned the car distributor cap to Cisco so the couple could finally get out of there. “I know my woman and Pearl does not want to get married!”

  Gillian rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Maybe because she feels you betrayed her,” she said.

  Max tipped his Stetson back on his head. “Well, she knows the kind of man I am. Hell—I’d never hurt her intentionally.”

  “You don’t have to tell us,” Cisco said.

  “Well, heck, if I’d known this was gonna happen I woulda stayed married to her years ago!” Max exclaimed.

  “Wait a minute!” Cisco interrupted, stunned. “The two of you were married! Where?” he demanded when Max nodded sheepishly. “When?”

  “We got hitched in Las Vegas twenty-five years ago, but it was just for a day or so. Then she got mad at me and gave me the boot. We divorced and I returned to Montana.”

  “Then how did the two of you get together?” Gillian asked. Max and Pearl’s lifelong love affair was legendary around these parts.

  Max’s wily blue eyes sparkled roguishly. “Let’s just say she forgave me, moved out here and opened her diner with the help of a little business loan from me, and we’ve been together ever since.”

  “And the subject of marriage never came up again?” Gillian asked.

  Max shrugged a buckskin-clad shoulder. “She made it very clear she’d rather be my lady friend instead of my wife. And that was fine by me, just as long as it made her happy. But now…Well, I wanted to see my kin settled before I proposed to Pearl.”

/>   “Apparently,” Cisco said, trying to lighten the tone of the conversation.

  Max grinned. “Guess I better do something about wooing Pearl right quick then, wouldn’t you say? Meantime—” Max pointed at Gillian and Cisco “—long as you two lovebirds are finished meddling in my life, you two need to mosey on out to the honeymoon cottage.”

  “We’re on our way.” Cisco started toward his car, distributor cap in hand, then stopped, remembering Max’s gift to him. He wanted to say all that was in his heart, but he wasn’t sure he could find words that would express even half of what he felt. “About the adoption—” Cisco lifted his eyes to Max’s, and finished hoarsely “—it means the world to me.”

  “I know, son.” Max beamed at Cisco like a father, and engulfed him in a warm, decidedly paternal hug. “Before you know it,” Max promised, just as thickly, giving them both a cocky smile, “we’re all gonna be one big happy family.”

  CISCO WAS STILL HOPING that was the case short minutes later as he parked his car in front of the honeymoon cottage.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful,” Gillian whispered, surveying Max’s gift to them.

  “Isn’t it,” Cisco agreed.

  The two-story log cabin with its steeply pitched gabled roof and wraparound front porch with a waisthigh railing dated back half a century but until recently had gone unlived in. Max had not only had the place refurbished, Cisco noted, pleased, but he had added homey touches to the porch, such as high-backed pine green rocking chairs, rough-hewn tables and planters filled with flowers. It was going to be a great place to spend the next day and a half—and maybe even longer.

  He got out of the car and went around to her side. Gillian—who still looked a little piqued at him—had already gotten out unaided so he contented himself with escorting her into the cottage.

  Gillian’s eyes widened in delight as she took in the high-beamed ceiling of the spacious living room. Red woven rugs added a touch of color to the gleaming hardwood floors. The leather sofa and sturdy wing chairs in blue-and-white plaid formed a conversation area in front of the fieldstone fireplace.

  More compelling still, Cisco noted, was a framed photograph of them taken at the wedding, at the conclusion of the ceremony, just after he had kissed her. Gillian was staring up at him, starry-eyed. He, too, looked both lovestruck and dazed by the intensity of the passion between them. Gillian shook her head at the photo as she traced the sterling-silver edge of the frame with her fingertip and quipped, tongue in cheek, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were in love.”

  “Which is, no doubt, exactly why Max left the photo here for us,” Cisco drawled, knowing exactly how Max’s mind worked. “To remind us that there are other reasons, besides property and wealth, why we should stay married.” The same reasons, he thought, now causing havoc in his lower half.

  Gillian read the sensual nature of his thoughts and rolled her eyes. “Good thing you and I are both too smart to be driven by our hormones indefinitely,” she said wryly as she breezed on into the kitchen.

  Were they? Cisco wondered, as Gillian studied their inheritance with a feminine eye. Blue-and-white gingham curtains decorated the many windows while a second fieldstone fireplace and built-in desk ran the length of an entire wall. She studied the mix of open shelves and cabinets on either side of the white, antique enameled stove. A food prep station commanded the center of the large country kitchen. Blue plaid rugs added a splash of color to the wood floor, while the vaulted ceiling added an aura of spaciousness.

  Cisco did not need to be a rocket scientist to realize how much she loved what Max had done with this place, or know how much he could come to love it, too, with very little effort. His days as a bachelor had been lonely and empty, though he’d never realized it until now. Gillian had brought a sunny excitement to his life he knew he’d find very difficult to live without should this marriage not work out and they go their separate ways once their forty-eight hours together were up. Which was why he should give their relationship his all now, to ensure that didn’t happen.

  “As long as we’re going to be sharing quarters, maybe we should work up some kind of schedule to make things a little easier,” Cisco suggested, stepping closer. He was ready and willing to do whatever he could to make this arrangement work out for both of them, even past the forty-eight hours Max had stipulated. “You know, what time we get up in the morning, who cooks what and when, when we take our remaining two time-outs and so on.”

  Gillian quirked a decidedly uncooperative brow at him. “How lawyerly of you,” she murmured as she surveyed the view.

  “Does that mean you disagree?”

  “It means I don’t want to be scheduled like just another charity function in your appointment book, Cisco. Furthermore, if you want to know the truth, I don’t think that we need any more rules and regulations than are already set out in Max’s deal with us.”

  So, she was still irked because she thought—erroneously, as it happened—he had only become involved with her because he was trying to return some of the generosity Max had bestowed on him.

  Cisco studied Gillian intently, letting her know with a glance this was definitely not the case, as he reminded her quietly, “Max didn’t specify very much.”

  Gillian quirked a dissenting auburn brow and refused to accept the fact that Cisco had helped her because he wanted to help her, not as some sort of obligation.

  “Max specified enough,” she said flatly. She turned on her heel and led the way up the narrow staircase in the kitchen, located next to the back door, that led to the second floor.

  Cisco followed, watching her reaction as she realized the master bedroom occupied the entire second floor. This room, too, had a vaulted ceiling and steeply pitched roof. A skylight above the bed added additional light while a pine queen-size bed, piled high with pillows and quilts, and perfect for making long, wild love beckoned from the center of the room. There were two chests—one for each of them—and a closet filled with expensive Western clothing in both their sizes.

  Gillian picked up the framed photo on the nightstand. It was another picture of them from the wedding. Slow dancing this time. Gillian was looking up at him. He was looking down at her. Remembering how she had felt in his arms, it was all Cisco could do not to haul Gillian in his arms and kiss her again, until all her anger and resentment faded, and just the fast-growing love and affection between them remained.

  “Max just won’t give up, will he?” Gillian murmured pensively.

  Cisco shrugged, not too shy to admit, “He probably is just sowing the seed—”

  “For us to get horizontal again?” Gillian quipped, deliberately making light of their lovemaking the previous evening. She shook her head in exasperation. “Considering the complications that’s already caused in our relationship, I don’t think so.”

  Wanna bet? Cisco thought, knowing his desire for her hadn’t diminished in the slightest, no matter how much Gillian preferred to hope it might’ve. Nor had hers for him, he was willing to bet.

  Arms folded in front of him, he watched as Gillian carefully set the second photo back down in the exact position she’d found it and breezed past him in a drift of hyacinth perfume to examine the adjacent bathroom.

  Like the rest of the cottage, it had undergone extensive renovation while at the same time losing none of its rustic charm. It featured an old-fashioned clawfooted tub big enough for two, twin sinks and a separate glassed-in shower stall.

  As Cisco looked around, it was all too easy to imagine Gillian in this room, getting ready for bed at night, getting ready for work in the morning. It was all too easy for him to imagine being married to her indefinitely, and dancing with her and kissing her again. And he knew he was going to have a heck of a time keeping his hands—and his kisses—to himself until she gave him the signal her temper had cooled and it was okay.

  Cisco lounged against the doorjamb as Gillian examined the hyacinth-scented toiletries and sterling silver brush and mirror set
Max had laid out for her. “You know Max is right about one thing. Staying under the same roof, even for thirty-one more hours is going to be tricky.” Unless they laid a few ground rules.

  Gillian set the perfume down with a thud. “So we’ll have to manage.”

  “How?” Cisco bit out.

  “We’ll keep busy,” Gillian decided smoothly, apparently having picked up on the ardent direction of his thoughts. She replaced the perfume bottle and headed down the stairs again, to the kitchen, having finished roaming the upstairs. “Besides, the honeymoon cottage is bigger than your apartment.”

  Cisco followed her, back to the living room and out onto the porch. “Not all that much bigger than my apartment,” he said. Worse, it was all so damn cozy and he might as well admit it—romantic. It was the perfect place for an assignation.

  Gillian sank into a rocking chair and, forearms resting flat on the arms of the chair, tested it out. “I suppose we could draw a line down the middle,” she said recklessly as she rocked back and forth. “We could divvy up the territory that way—with you taking the sofa downstairs tonight.”

  Cisco perched on the rail and folded his arms in front of him. He did not want Gillian putting up a fence around her once again. “There’s only one bathroom,” he pointed out, mocking her with insolent eyes. “We can hardly draw a line down that.”

  Gillian shrugged insouciantly and avoided his searching gaze. “No, but we can eat and bathe at different times.”

  “You’re being a little ridiculous, aren’t you?” Cisco queried dryly. Even though he knew her resistance was probably par for the course.