by Mindy Neff
His lips twitched and a smile lit his eyes. ‘‘Is that so?’’
‘‘I hope to shout.’’ Standing toe-to-toe with him, she nodded, daring him to try that bossiness again. Give her a stool pulled up to the stove to sit on, put a spatula in her hand, and she could go to town.
‘‘I wondered about that red hair.’’
Her breath actually hissed. ‘‘Yes, I have a temper, as cliche´ as that sounds. It doesn’t rear up often, but when it does, it’s ugly.’’
‘‘I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime there’s no shortage of rope around here.’’
She frowned, thrilled with the smile that lingered in his eyes, yet wary, nonetheless. ‘‘Meaning?’’
‘‘Meaning if need be I can tie you in that bed.’’
Laughter burst out from her. She knew she should be upset with his bossiness, but she just couldn’t work up any steam. She put her hand on his chest. ‘‘I’m afraid I’m not up to that kind of play just now.’’
Where there was amusement in his eyes before, now there was heat.
The heat of sensual promise.
A host of butterflies fluttered in her stomach, winged through her chest, taking her breath. She swayed, realized that desire was making her weak in more ways than just sexual.
‘‘See there?’’ He put an arm around her to steady, pulled her to him for just a moment, a moment that didn’t last nearly long enough. ‘‘Now don’t give me a hard time. You rest today.’’
She hadn’t even realized he’d walked her backward until her knees hit the side of the mattress. ‘‘Stony, really this isn’t—’’
‘‘If you say necessary, I really am going to get the rope.’’
She giggled, surprised at the sound, then dropped her forehead to his chest and surrendered gracefully. ‘‘Then I’ll say thank you, and allow you to be my Sir Galahad.’’
‘‘Thought so.’’
JULY 15. MY WEDDING DAY. The words rolled around and around in Eden’s mind, making her palms damp against the small beige purse clutched in her hands.
Instead of jumping right into the ceremony, as originally discussed, they’d ended up waiting an extra week in order to get legal matters taken care of. The added days had given her a chance to build up her strength—it also put her that much closer to the crucial days when her body could possibly conceive.
Now there wouldn’t be time for her and Stony to ease into intimacy as she’d hoped, to relax, get comfortable, get it right. Her feminine clock was on its unstoppable path, like the ball dropping in Times Square, counting down the days to fertility. If she missed that cycle, she’d be thirty days farther from her goal…thirty days closer to a health decision that would take part of her womanhood and very likely wrench a piece of her soul.
As Stony pulled the truck into the courthouse parking lot, Eden stared at the redbrick building, thinking of her mother.
They’d spoken yesterday, and as Eden had predicted, Beverley Williams had immediately announced she’d be on the first plane headed for Montana. It had taken all of Eden’s excuses to prevent that from happening.
Her mother, normally a levelheaded, fair-minded woman—naturally, since she was a judge—had thrown a hissy fit when Eden had come clean about her plans. After she’d pretty much gotten that out of her system, she’d vacillated between stunned disbelief and a mother’s profound worry.
Tears stung Eden’s eyes as she remembered the conversation. ‘‘Eden, I beg you not to take this chance with your health.’’
‘‘I have to, Mama. I’ve told you what the alternative is, and if it ends up that I do have to have the surgery, the only way I could bear it is by knowing that I gave pregnancy my best shot.’’
‘‘But marriage, darling?’’
‘‘It’s a small price to pay for a chance at my dream. He has a young, impressionable daughter. He’s a good man, Mama. Aunt Lottie will tell you.’’
Beverley had gone silent, and Eden knew she was weighing the facts as they’d been presented, digesting them, coming to terms with them. ‘‘I should still come out. This is your wedding. Your first.’’
‘‘No! Mama, please. It’s not…real. It’s only temporary.’’ That still gave her a punch of guilt, of stomach-trembling reservations. The committee on her left shoulder—the voice of her conscience, which often exasperated her to no end—nagged at her that this was wrong, wrong, wrong, while the committee on her right whispered that she had to try, that the greatness of the need canceled out the wrong and made it a right.
‘‘Besides,’’ she told her mother, ‘‘you’d cause absolute chaos in the judicial system if you up and hopped a plane on the spur of the moment. That has to be your first concern.’’
‘‘No. You’re wrong there, my love,’’ Beverley had said softly, very softly. ‘‘You’re more important to me than any case, any job…and much, much more important than the prospect of a grandchild.’’
Eden’s forced bravery had crumbled at that point, and she’d wept. It had taken another ten minutes to repair that foolish loss of control and convince her mother it wasn’t necessary to fly to Montana.
‘‘We’re here,’’ Stony said, jerking her out of her musing. The red blur in front of her eyes once again focused into the shape of the courthouse. An American flag flew atop the building, undulating in the afternoon breeze like the ripple of the finest, softest silk.
Eden took a breath, smiled. ‘‘Then I guess it’s show time.’’ Getting out of the truck, she helped Nikki down. ‘‘Come, my little flower girl. Let’s see if the judge set us up an aisle for you to stroll prettily down.’’
‘‘Okay! Come on, Daddy!’’ Holding Eden’s hand, Nikki reached for Stony’s hand with the other. Connecting them. Making them look like family.
Eden glanced at Stony. ‘‘Are you sure you want to do this for me?’’
With his free hand he reached out as though he would stroke her cheek, then hesitated and instead gave a tug to the brim of his Stetson. ‘‘Let’s go.’’
He hadn’t answered, and all sorts of anxieties started to build inside Eden.
When she entered through the side door of the courthouse, those anxieties stood up and howled.
Instead of Judge Lester waiting for them, Pastor Lucas rose to his feet, a bible in his hands.
And he wasn’t alone. Stony’s neighbors and friends were there, too—Wyatt, Hannah and Ian Malone; Ethan, Dora and baby Katie Callahan; Iris and Lloyd Brewer; Vera and Vern Tillis; Henry Jenkins and Ozzie Peyton.
Oh, no. Eden hadn’t counted on this. Her gaze whipped to Stony. Had he planned it?
He shook his head, understanding her panic. ‘‘Not me.’’ He looked as bewildered as she felt. ‘‘I’ve never known the preacher to tell somebody’s business like this.’’
‘‘But I thought the judge was going to perform the ceremony.’’
He shrugged. ‘‘That was the plan. Then Dan got wind of it and said he was offended that we weren’t having him do it, and…heck, I lied through my teeth. Told him he’d gotten the whole story wrong. What can I say? I went to school with the guy. But I didn’t invite half the town.’’
Eden swallowed hard, feeling like a fraud. Stony might have fibbed to the preacher, but Eden felt as though she was lying to the whole town.
Her stomach did a flip-flop and she seriously thought she might be ill.
‘‘Excuse me, please.’’ She tried not to run, tried to see past the blinding white specks before her eyes, coached herself to get through the bathroom door before she came undone.
Ladies didn’t cause a stir in public.
And it would surely cause a stir if she told Stony right there in front of God and everybody that she’d changed her mind, that she couldn’t go through with the marriage plans, after all. His friends were under the impression they’d fallen in love at first sight. They had no idea this was only a smoke screen to legitimize an affair intended solely for procreation.
She leaned agains
t the bathroom sink, splashed water on her face. The door opened, and she whirled around.
In filed Hannah, Dora, Iris and Vera. An instant before the door swung shut, she caught a glimpse of Ozzie, Henry, Lloyd and Vern looking as though they were mightily tempted to forego the dictates of polite society and ignore the gender sign on the door.
‘‘There, now, love,’’ Iris fussed. ‘‘Are you feeling ill? Faint? Or just a plain-old attack of wedding nerves?’’
They were all so wonderful. ‘‘I can’t do this,’’ Eden whispered.
‘‘Why ever not?’’ Vera asked.
‘‘Because it’s not right. We didn’t fall in love at first sight like y’all think we did.’’ Well, perhaps she had, but that was her own folly to deal with later. With or without Stony’s seed, she would eventually go back to Texas. That’s where her life was. It would be hard enough carrying her own bittersweet emotions in her heart. To add the hurt feelings of these genuine people to her conscience would be too much to bear.
They’d extended her their friendship. She owed them the truth.
‘‘I came here to get pregnant. By Stony. That’s all.’’ Wanting to redeem herself in some small way, even though none of the four women facing her appeared upset, Eden told them her problem.
Iris was the first to speak when Eden had finished. ‘‘We know, dear. It about broke our hearts when Lottie told us.’’
‘‘All of you?’’ Eden asked.
Hannah and Dora shook their heads. ‘‘Those crafty old geezers are picky who they let into their club,’’ Dora said. ‘‘Eventually, though, the word trickled down to us. Nothing stays secret for long around here.’’
‘‘I hope we haven’t embarrassed you,’’ Hannah said.
‘‘No. I…you’re all so nice. You don’t think I’m a horrible person for doing this?’’
Everyone shook their heads.
‘‘Even if the preacher ought to say ‘in six months do you part’ rather than the traditional vow?’’
There was a mixture of expressions—understanding, amusement, compassion.
Vera Tillis stepped forward, took Eden’s hands in hers. ‘‘Getting you this baby is important, honey. And I imagine there’ll be times where your heart will just be crushed.’’ She didn’t need to elaborate; those times would be when her monthly cycle drained her energy and dashed her hopes. ‘‘Stony Stratton is the best man in the world to lead you through that time.’’
Yes, he was. Having gotten these women’s blessings, Eden took a deep breath, gave a smile that trembled only slightly at the corners.
‘‘I’m really happy that y’all came.’’
‘‘Of course you are,’’ Iris fussed. ‘‘Now let’s get you back to your groom before he thinks you’ve changed your mind and we’ve decided to have a sleepover in the ladies’ room.’’
AND THAT’S EXACTLY what Stony was wondering—if Eden had changed her mind.
He realized, perhaps even for the first time, that the desire for a baby had to be really important to Eden for her to accept him in the bargain, too.
Even though it was only temporary.
But the longer he stood outside the judge’s chambers—with six men all pretending nonchalance and diligently avoiding eye contact—the more he worried that she’d changed her mind.
He told himself it didn’t matter.
She didn’t really want him. She only wanted what he could give her. It would be her loss, not his.
Then he saw her coming out of the bathroom, gliding toward him, her broomstick skirt swirling around her ankles, her glossy lips trembling on the verge of a smile, a silent apology.
And he realized it had mattered after all.
Their gazes met, and he saw that there would indeed be a wedding today. He released the breath he’d been holding, not sure if he was relieved or sorry.
It would be awfully easy to read more into the relationship than was there.
And that’d be just plain stupid.
Chapter Eight
Nikki had gone home with Hannah, happy to play with Ian for the next few days, and Eden was suffering an attack of nerves.
They were married. And alone.
Her heart began to pound, and her insides quivered as he pulled the truck into the circular driveway in front of the ranch house and shut off the engine.
Now that she knew for certain they would make love, she couldn’t look at him without feeling a range of emotions—giddy one minute, then shy the next, hot, then embarrassed.
Sex should be spontaneous. Yet they were planning it. Or at least she was.
Somewhere during the turmoil of her thoughts, Stony had come around to her side of the truck and opened the door. Gallantry, she thought. A gentleman.
A gentle man.
She took his hand and let him help her down. Their bodies brushed, igniting a fire in Eden’s belly. He didn’t speak, just studied her for what seemed like endless moments, the intensity in his amber eyes unnerving her, making her unable to hold his gaze.
She had no idea what this tall, incredibly virile cowboy was thinking when he looked at her.
She didn’t know how to proceed, what to do, how to ask. What if she ovulated early? Her body was faulty, there was no telling if it would stick to the fourteenth-through-sixteenth-day rule. She felt as though every second counted, that there wasn’t a minute to spare.
Oh, Lord, the more she thought about it, the more she became stressed. Could he see that in her eyes? Her fear? Her desperation? Her impatience?
He touched her hair, her cheek. ‘‘Relax,’’ he said softly. ‘‘We have time.’’
She should have known he would read her emotions. She bit her bottom lip, finally gathered the courage to look at him.
‘‘I feel so weird,’’ she admitted, forcing a laugh. ‘‘I know we’re going to make love and I’m suddenly as shy as a virgin.’’ She flicked her hair behind her ear. ‘‘Should we go in…?’’ And get right to it, was what she didn’t say.
‘‘Is that what you want?’’ he asked softly.
‘‘Darn it, I don’t know. It’s just that I’m afraid of missing a moment…the moment that could be the right one.’’
‘‘If you’re tense, focused on only that thought, your body will likely work against you.’’
‘‘How do you control thoughts that haunt you like an obsession?’’
He looked deep into her eyes, slid his hand around to cup the back of her neck, drew her closer. ‘‘Let’s try this. Don’t think for a while. Just feel.’’
He touched her lips with his, gentle yet sure. Her heart lodged right in her throat, stuttered, then pounded with a vengeance.
He’s an absolute expert at this was her fleeting thought an instant before her mind went blessedly blank. There was only this man, this single, spine-tingling kiss. His tongue swept the seam of her lips, yet never entered her mouth. He simply toyed with her lips, nibbled, worshipped, caressed them with his, slowly, magically, as though they had an eternity.
He held her with only the slight pressure of his hand at the back of her neck, his palm so wide it wrapped around to gently cup her cheek, his thumb sweeping the line of her jaw, back and forth. It was a simple touch, one that might have soothed, yet it inflamed.
When he eased back, she moaned, blinked away the sensual fog. He slid his palm down her arm, took her hand and linked their fingers.
‘‘Come. Let me show you my world.’’
It took her a minute to catch up. He meant his ranch, his life’s work. She felt a pang of remorse. She only planned to be in his world temporarily.
‘‘But I thought—’’
‘‘I know. We might be on a mission here, but there’s no reason we can’t take a little time to make it special. Get to know each other. Build trust.’’
‘‘I trust you.’’
He brushed back a strand of hair that blew in her face, stuck to her lips. ‘‘Humor me, then. I’m a little nervous.’’
&nbs
p; She gaped at him, astonished. Then she saw the amusement in his eyes. He wasn’t anything of the kind. He was flirting with her. Wooing her, she realized, stunned.
He was giving her the opportunity to relax, lulling her into that easy, dreamy state where bodies began to hum and sensations dictated the rules.
Rules that consumed body and mind, steeped a person in intimacy and left no room for worries over conception.
She swallowed hard. The very self-assurance of this man was an aphrodisiac. ‘‘Well, then. I guess we can’t have you being nervous.’’
He tugged the brim of his hat. ‘‘Guess not. Are you okay like that, or do you want to change?’’
If they went their separate ways to change clothes she was terribly afraid they’d lose the momentum of the spellbinding excitement that arced between them. Her ivory broomstick skirt was easily washable, as was the vest that buttoned over her lacy camisole. And beneath all that, waiting like a present to be opened, was what she considered man-stopping underwear. She’d worn it for a reason—to feel feminine on her wedding day, to give her confidence.
And by dog, she wasn’t taking it off until it had been seen and appreciated.
‘‘I’m fine,’’ she said.
He nodded and, keeping her hand in his, walked her around the grounds closest to the house. The sun was setting, a beautiful time of day, when heat from the sun-drenched earth mingled with the cooler air of dusk. Soft winds had smeared wispy clouds across the sky in a pastel finger painting of color that drew the eye and the breath. Wind chimes tinkled in the breeze, creating a melodious chorus behind the harmony of insects and the various sounds of animals settling.
A funny sensation shivered inside Eden. Peace. Safety. A sensation much like a lingering, cherished memory—like how the smell of peaches always evoked instant images of her grandmother’s kitchen, the counters lined with crates of fruit fresh from the orchard. Every summer, without fail, they’d gone to the peach orchard. It was a part of their life, a constant, a ritual. Something to count on.
And for some really odd reason, Stony’s ranch evoked that same sort of sensation.