Wyatt's Pretend Pledge

by Liz Isaacson

  He sighed and set another container that had spaghetti and meatballs in it, and a flash of pride moved through her that she would’ve ordered that for him. “It means, Marcy, that I want you to know the real Wyatt Walker. Not the one who smiles at the cameras and signs autographs.”

  He looked at her, an intensity on his face she hadn’t expected. She’d seen it before, of course, on the Internet videos she’d watched of him riding the bulls and throwing the ropes. He was a champion who charmed thousands by taking off his hat and waving it at them, giving them all the credit for cheering for him. He was a man who knew what he wanted, worked to get it, and achieved things. He was someone who could get in the zone and block out all other distractions. He kissed her like that, and Marcy had never been kissed so thoroughly.

  “I know the real Wyatt Walker,” she said, her voice a touch too high. “And I sure do like how he brings me the exact pasta dish I love, and that he comes over here to help me with my father’s house.” Her breath caught in her lungs, but her voice stayed steady. “And I love that he’s going to help me keep the business, and that he’s hardworking, and kind, and loves his momma, and—”

  “Okay,” he said. “This is worse.” He grinned at her and took her into his arms.

  “And for the record,” she said, sliding her hands up his chest until they curled around the back of his neck. “I would’ve known to order you the spaghetti and meatballs. And I started coffee a few minutes ago, because I know you love it fresh and hot. And I keep cream here, because I know you like it.”

  “So you kinda like me too,” he whispered, leaning toward her.

  Marcy giggled, tipping her head back to receive his kiss. And she got that bone-melting kiss, where she was the absolute focus of Wyatt’s attention. And he was definitely a king to her.

  “Okay,” she said, pulling away. “I’m starving, and we need to go over a few things for the wedding.”

  “Right, the wedding.” Wyatt wiped his mouth and pulled plastic forks out of the bag. “How do you feel about having puppies for ring bearers?”

  Marcy looked at him, and she knew instantly that something was up, because he wouldn’t meet her eye. “Puppies?”

  “I’m good friends with a former rodeo guy, and he now owns a huge animal rescue and training operation on the east side of town. Lots of space. Big trees. And he said we could have the wedding there, and there would be a lot of room for people.”

  “And by people, you mean reporters.”

  “There’s gonna be some reporters, yes,” he said. “As soon as we lock down the location, I’ll have Jim make the formal announcement, and then we can coordinate from there.” He took his food to the dining room table and surveyed her lists.

  “We’re only feeding family, though, right?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “And Jeremiah said we could do it at the ranch or here or wherever. He says food transports pretty easily. Tripp offered his house, and it’s huge.”

  “Okay.” Marcy exhaled as she sat at the table with him. “So we’re talking venue and food right now. And we need to discuss refreshments too, if we’re going to offer them for wedding guests or restrict everything to family.”

  “If it’s all the same to you,” he said. “I think we should have refreshments at the wedding. It’s just money.”

  “And you have plenty of that,” Marcy said. She did too, actually. Maybe not enough to refresh the entire town of Three Rivers, as well as those who rode the rodeo circuit. But enough.

  “Maybe those little bundt cakes,” he said. “And sweet tea and lemonade.”

  “Oh, now you’re just naming all your favorite things,” she teased.

  “Well, it’s my wedding,” he said, cutting a meatball in half. “Shouldn’t I have all my favorite things?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, reaching for one of her lists. “I’ll just jot that down right here.”

  “I’ll do all the refreshments at Four Paws, and Jeremiah will cook for the family.”

  Marcy consulted her sheet, noticing how many boxes this one conversation would tick. She started marking them off. Venue—check. Food—check. Refreshments—check. “Things are coming together,” she said.

  “What’s left on that list?” he asked.

  “I need a dress,” she said with a sigh. She put the paper down and picked up her fork. “I don’t have time to look for a wedding dress.” She thought of the one down the hall in her parents’ bedroom closet. The dress had been haunting her during quiet moments, and she actually looked down the hall.

  “We can go tomorrow,” he said. “After we drop the stuff off at the Salvation Army.”

  “You can’t see me in the wedding dress, Wyatt,” she said. “Not before the wedding.”

  “Oh, so we’re sticking to some traditions too.”

  “Yes,” she said, looking at him. He gazed at her too, and Marcy thought of the conversations they’d had over the past several days. This was real for her, and she wanted to treat it as such. “Weren’t you the one who told your brother that yes, the marriage might be a little fake now, but it was definitely going to be real later?”

  Wyatt nodded, stirring his spaghetti around. “I did say that. I can’t believe I told you I said that, but I did say it.”

  “I need to meet Rhett,” Marcy said. “He seems like the kind of man who can get you to say exactly what’s what.”

  “I do that for you too,” he said. “In case you were wondering. And I can’t keep a secret from my momma or my manager either.”

  “So do they know our little union is a little fake?”

  “Not yet.” He grinned. “But as soon as I call Jim and tell him to reach out to everyone about my marriage, there will be a lot of questions.”

  “And your mother didn’t have any?”

  “I mean, I may or may not have told her we’d been dating for a year.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “In my mind, we’ve been dating for a year.”

  Marcy gaped at him, her heart beating surprise through her bloodstream with every pulse. “You told her that?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Don’t look like I hit you with a frying pan.”

  Marcy gathered herself together and shook her hair over her shoulders. “How’s the house-hunting going for your parents?”

  “Rhett and Tripp are handling it,” he said. “They’re the least busy of the brothers, but they’re fighting over the location.”

  “Like, really fighting?”

  “As much as Walkers do,” Wyatt said. “So arguing, sending texts, looking at half a dozen houses each day. That kind of thing.”

  “And your mother trusts them to find her a house?”

  “Oh, Momma trusts Rhett explicitly. You should hear her talk about him.” He looked up toward the ceiling. “We’re all surprised God hasn’t taken Rhett straight to heaven yet.”

  Marcy burst out laughing, glad Wyatt did too. “I love him to death, don’t get me wrong,” he said. “But yeah. Rhett can do no wrong in Momma’s eyes.”

  “You’re like that too, though,” she said, giving him a look out of the corner of her eye. “I mean, your mother thinks you walk on water too.”

  “Does she?”

  “Doesn’t she?” Marcy put a bite of noodles, bacon, and peas in her mouth, her taste buds rejoicing mightily.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” he said. “And I can’t wait for you to meet them. She’s going to love you. Daddy too.”

  Marcy could hardly swallow after that. She’d somehow forgotten that she’d have to meet his parents and pull off this sham of a wedding. As they continued eating, Marcy reminded herself that it wasn’t one-hundred-percent sham. She liked this gentle giant of a cowboy next to her, and she liked him a whole heckuva lot.

  “What about the brothers?” she finally asked, once she’d eaten more carbonara than was probably healthy. “When am I meeting them?”

  “How about Sunday after church?” he asked, glancing at her. “It’s loud, and messy, and
we have babies and kids now. But no one bites all that hard.”

  “Even Jeremiah?” she asked.

  “He’s settled right down now that he and Whitney are permanent.” Wyatt flashed her a grin and pushed his nearly empty container of spaghetti away. “All right, sugar. What are we doin’ tonight?”

  Marcy put one more bite of salty, savory pasta in her mouth. “Let’s tackle the hall closet,” she said, looking at the family pictures along the mantel. She wanted to leave them there for another day, because the memories were happy, and she craved seeing her family in this house even if their spirits had departed.

  “Oh-ho,” Wyatt said, chuckling. “The hall closet. Should be fun.” He got up and took their containers into the kitchen. Marcy just watched him, because he was all of those things she’d said earlier.

  And she did like him. As she gazed at him as he cleaned up and poured two cups of coffee, Marcy may or may not have slipped a little further along the path toward loving him.

  Maybe, just like he’d said. Just maybe.

  And while a vein of fear accompanied her thoughts, Marcy got up and joined him in the kitchen. “Thank you, Wyatt,” she said. It could’ve been for the food. Or for his company. His help over the past year, with everything from taking her father to a doctor’s appointment to picking up the blue mechanic rags around the shop.

  He looked down at her. “You don’t need to thank me.” His arm snaked around her waist. “Remember how I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do?”

  “Except for cleaning out a hall closet,” she said.

  He touched the tip of his nose to hers. “That’s where you’re wrong, Marce. I’m right where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to be doing.” He straightened, a flicker of discomfort moving through those gorgeous eyes. “Now, let’s get ‘er done so I can take a nap.”

  Marcy laughed, and they went down the hall together, opening the closet to find it stuffed—literally stuffed—with towels, bedsheets, board games, and more.

  “Oh, boy,” Wyatt grumbled under his breath. He pulled on one towel and a mountain of them started raining out of the closet.

  “I’ll get the boxes,” Marcy said, leaving him with the linens. He was definitely doing something he didn’t want to do, and Marcy could only hope that it only extended to washcloths and tea towels, and that when he said he wanted to marry her, he was speaking the truth.

  Chapter Twelve

  Wyatt stepped onto the back deck, leaving the scent of fried eggs and bacon behind in the homestead. Jeremiah was really taking this dote-on-his-pregnant-wife thing to the extreme. But one thought of Marcy, and Wyatt realized he’d do the exact same thing if she needed him to.

  Plus, he liked bacon and eggs and coffee for breakfast. Micah wasn’t complaining either, that was for dang sure.

  Wyatt lifted his phone to his ear after tapping Jim’s name on the screen. His manager would most likely answer within the first couple of rings, as he never went very far from his phone, never slept past five a.m., and loved to hear from his star rodeo client.

  “Mornin’, Wyatt,” he drawled out. “It’s bright and early on a Saturday.”

  “Did I wake you?” he asked, smiling at the fatherly sound of Jim’s voice. Sometimes, Jim was the only friend Wyatt had on the rodeo circuit, and the older man had taken really good care of Wyatt. He’d helped him out of a couple of tight situations, including one with a pair of women that still made Wyatt shiver in fear.

  “Not at all,” he said. “I just thought you’d sleep past dawn now that you’re not training.”

  “Old habits die hard,” Wyatt said, smiling as the sun started to turn the world gold. “Listen, I’m calling because I have an announcement I’d like you to make.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  “I’m getting married, and I’d like anyone who wants to show up in Three Rivers, Texas, to come.”

  A beat of silence passed, and then two. “You’re getting married?”

  “That’s right.” Wyatt closed his eyes in a long blink, expecting a deluge of questions. “February twentieth.”

  “You’re getting married in four weeks?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How long have you known this woman?”

  “Over a year, Jim.”

  “Is she willing to sign a prenuptial agreement?” he asked. “I know you don’t like talking about that, but Wyatt, you have a lot of assets to protect.”

  “I know that,” Wyatt said. He and Jim had had this conversation before, though Wyatt had never really had a serious relationship while on the rodeo circuit. His mind flew back to those days, and in comparison to what he did now, they were definitely simpler. Yes, traveling could be difficult from time to time.

  But he had someone paying his bills, telling him what and when to eat, and all he’d done was train or drive—or sleep while someone else drove. His life in the rodeo had been physically exhausting, mentally challenging, but so many of the little pieces were taken care of by someone else.

  Wyatt was trying to manage all of those balls now himself, and he constantly felt like he was about to drop them all.

  “So she signed one.”

  “I haven’t brought it up yet.”

  “Wyatt,” Jim said, and that was all. He didn’t need to say more than that.

  Wyatt rolled his shoulders. “I’m going to,” he said. “Today, actually. I just need to know what you need from me to make the announcement.”

  “Okay, cowboy, let’s get something straight,” Jim said, and Wyatt grinned at the familiar phrase. He’d missed it more than he’d admitted to himself. Jim would say it to him only minutes before every event he did.

  Okay, cowboy, let’s get something straight: You’re the top roper here. Go prove it.

  “All right,” Wyatt said, chuckling. “What do I need to get straight?”

  “I’m not the one going in front of the media with this news.”

  Horror struck Wyatt right behind his heart. “Well, I’m not. That’s why I have you.”

  “I can call all the right people,” Jim said. “And you’ll be the one to get up there and break the news to all the cowgirls out there still holding onto the hope that you’ll somehow show up at their doorsteps, a diamond in your hand.”

  Okay, cowboy, let’s get something straight: You’ve drawn the highest ranked bull. Go ride it. Eight seconds.

  Wyatt wondered how long it would take to tell the world that he was engaged and about to be married. Couldn’t take more than eight seconds. Could it?

  “All right,” Wyatt said with a great big sigh. “When?”

  “You tell me,” he said. “The hype over the rookies has died down, and there’s a definite lull in the industry right now. This will be huge.”

  “Let’s do it next Saturday,” he said.

  “In Three Rivers?”

  “That’s quite a drive for people,” he said. “What would be easier? I can fly in somewhere.” He had the sudden thought that he should probably show up to the press conference announcing his engagement with his fiancée. Marcy had commitments and work to do, and she might not be able to come along next Saturday.

  And she’s not just coming along, he told himself. This wasn’t a show. It wasn’t another rodeo event.

  She was going to be his wife, and he was entirely too excited about that. At the same time, Marcy had loosened up around him over the past week since she’d said yes to his proposal, and he knew she liked him.

  This marriage isn’t a charitable event, he thought.

  “Why don’t you see if you can come to Dallas?” Jim asked. “And I’m going to need all the details. Date, time, place, how you two met. I’m going to need pictures and all of that.”

  Wyatt’s throat narrowed, his task list for the day exploding right before his eyes. “Yeah, sure,” he managed to say. He’d played a part for long enough in his life that he sounded natural and like he had all of those things ready for his manager.

  “I’l
l wait for it,” he said. “And Wyatt? I just have to know one thing….”

  Wyatt tipped his head back and filled the Texas sky with laughter.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes,” Jim said, chuckling too. “Good for you, Wyatt. I’ll wait for your email before I make any phone calls.”

  The call ended while the last of Wyatt’s laughter died out. “Yeah, Jim,” he said almost under his breath. “She’s blonde.”

  The next day, Wyatt enjoyed church more than he ever had before. His back felt great, number one. Number two, Jeremiah had made his favorite food for dinner—prime rib.

  And thirdly, he currently sat on a bench next to Marcy, her hand solidly in his. He’d dreamed of this hour of his life for far too long, and it was as magical as he’d imagined.

  He loved the calluses on her hands from where she worked on her airplanes, and he loved the soft peach scent of her perfume, that hint of grease just underneath. He liked the cute little pencil skirt she wore, and the heels, and the bright pink blouse with airplanes on it.

  His heart thumped in that odd way it did whenever he was around Marcy, but this time it was because they were sitting just across the aisle from the rest of his family. The Walkers had grown a lot in the past couple of years, and they took up two benches in the little white church in downtown Three Rivers.

  Wyatt loved the slower pace of Sunday, and he loved singing praises to the Lord. He hadn’t always taken the time he needed to feed his spirit, though, and the rebellious side of him often thought he was smarter than God.

  Today, though, he closed his eyes as Pastor Daniels talked about how to better study the scriptures, and he prayed that the Good Lord would help him make sure Marcy was well taken care of. Wyatt wanted to be the one to provide for her every need, but he hadn’t thought of anyone but himself for so long, he wasn’t sure how.

  The sermon ended, and Wyatt’s back didn’t protest as he stood to sing the last hymn. Marcy’s mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear her singing at all, and he slipped his arm around her waist. “You’re not singing.”