“Out. Everybody out. There’ll be no courting today. Not today, boys.” Gomer shuffled them all outside.
Before turning to face Sam, I took a couple of cleansing breaths to calm down and noticed Frida watching from the lunch counter with a look of wry amusement.
When I turned slowly, Sam was frowning up at me in confusion, but Betty wore a knowing grin. “Why, hello, Sheriff.”
“Hello, Betty.”
“Sheriff?!” Sam’s eyes widened so much it was a wonder her eyeballs didn’t fall out of her head and go rolling around on the floor.
“Yes, dear, Clint here’s the sheriff of Rattlesnake Canyon and quite a catch, I might add. And it appears he ran off the rest of your suitors.”
“She’s not marrying any of them, so there’s no use in them staying.”
Betty’s hand flew dramatically to her chest in an exaggerated motion. “Why, whatever do you mean, Sheriff?”
She knew damn well what I meant.
“She’s marrying me.” I glared down at Sam, daring her to object.
She didn’t.
So I dropped to one knee.
Betty giggled behind her hand like a tittering schoolgirl harboring a juicy secret. “Well, well, Sheriff, looks like you’re the last man standing—or should I say kneeling.”
I glanced from Betty to Sam, whose mouth hung open in surprise.
“Samantha Jackson, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”
Chapter 8
Shay
One foot in front of the other, I walked down the short aisle in the Rattlesnake Canyon courthouse.
The sheriff!
Holy shit!
I was marrying the sheriff, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Not after Clint scared off all my other prospects and proposed on bended knee. I would have sworn he didn’t care too much for me, what with the events of the morning and the evil eye he’d been giving me since I’d arrived in town.
Apparently, I’d been wrong because here I was, minutes away from marrying him. It wasn’t as though I could have refused his proposal. I’d been between a rock and a hard place. Although, I doubted many women would consider marrying Clint to be a hardship. I probably wouldn’t have either if he hadn’t been the law and I hadn’t been wanted by the law.
Apparently, Clint was not only the sheriff but also the justice of the peace. Small towns.
He introduced me to the tall, attractive woman he’d been seated next to at the Chuckwagon Diner—get this—Frida Kahlo. Again, I bit my tongue about the name. Hey, if everyone in this crazy town wanted to adopt weird names, who was I to judge them? I was using an alias myself. Best to just shut the hell up and go with the flow.
Frida, Clint informed me, was his sometimes-deputy and the town notary public and, as such, was officially recognized with the legal power to perform marriages.
As I neared the front of the courtroom, Frida was seated behind the judge’s bench. Part of me wanted to turn and run, but I reminded myself that I looked awful in orange and even worse in jumpsuits.
Yes, shut the hell up, Shay, and do what needs to be done.
I swallowed a lump in my throat, and for the twentieth time since we’d left Gladys’s diner, I reminded myself that the marriage was just temporary. It would buy me time. I just hoped I didn’t end up ruining both our lives.
As I reached the judge’s bench, Clint grabbed my hand, clasping it between his calloused palms. I didn’t have the courage to look at him.
This was so surreal.
There were only four of us in attendance in the otherwise “closed for the day” courthouse. Besides Clint, me, and Frida, who was officiating, Betty, whose part-time job was serving as courthouse clerk, was also present. She didn’t even seem to care she was missing bingo to serve as our witness.
Frida’s wide grin turned solemn, but the twinkle in her eyes never faded.
“Well, well, what a lovely couple gathered before me to take their sacred vows. I hope you’ll both be very happy in your life together.”
Clint glared, his teeth clenched. “Just get on with it, Frida. Spare us the commentary.”
“Alrighty, let’s get you two lovebirds hitched.” Frida beamed.
It was hot as the fires of hell in the courtroom. Apparently, the place had no air-conditioning.
Frida cleared her throat. “Do you, Clint Eastwood, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
I fanned myself.
“I do.”
“Do you, Samantha Jackson, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I fanned myself more furiously. “I do.”
A swarm of butterflies took flight in my stomach, and I mentally scolded myself that I better not lose my lunch right there in the courtroom. On my wedding day.
It was then that I afforded myself a side glance at Clint. He wasn’t smiling. He looked as nervous as I felt, almost as if this were a real marriage or something.
Frida was saying something, but I’d tuned out.
Clint towered over me, and he sure was handsome. I felt a little guilty for lying to him, and bringing him into my chaotic existence, but as soon as I was able, I would square things with him—with them all. I wasn’t sure how exactly I would manage to dig myself out of the trouble I was in and atone for lying to the whole town, but I was determined to find a way. Although, what if it didn’t play out that way? What if I could stay in this small town of Rattlesnake Canyon forever? Stay married to the hot sheriff… Argh! Stop, Shay!
Frida droned on, saying something about the sanctity of marriage, and I prayed she’d hurry. It was so hot I was afraid I’d faint from heatstroke.
A muscle ticked in Clint’s jaw.
His blue eyes stared straight ahead.
Would he realize any minute now that he wanted no part of this ridiculous sham? Was he seconds from sprinting for the door?
“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Frida pretended to wipe a tear from her eye, but Betty’s sniffles were real. Clint made that weird growly sound again like he had in the diner.
And that was it. No flowers, no wedding dress, nothing old, new, borrowed, or blue, but a marriage nonetheless, and legally binding.
Then Frida, with clear mischief in her dark eyes, dropped the bomb. “You may now kiss the bride.”
My jaw dropped but Frida shrugged. “It’s part of the process.”
“She’s right.” Betty nodded her head in emphatic agreement. “It is part of the process.”
And before I knew what was happening, Clint’s mouth descended over mine.
His kiss wasn’t the symbolic seal-the-deal kiss one would expect. It wasn’t timid or chaste. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was a plundering, pillaging kiss—possessive and claiming—and it stormed past all my defenses. One of his hands cupped the back of my head while his other arm wrapped around my lower back drawing me tightly to him and making my whole body ache for him. My breasts grew heavy. My panties grew damp. For a moment—and only a moment—I pretended this was real and the man with shimmery blue eyes, thick blonde hair, and massive biceps was madly in love with me and I with him.
The spell was broken by Betty’s whistle and Frida’s claps and shouts. “Woo-hoo!”
Clint pulled out of the kiss and stared down at me. The rest of the world seemed to have melted away as we stared into each other’s eyes, both speechless, both struggling to catch our breath.
That was the first time I realized that this fake marriage might have some unintended and very dangerous consequences.
When we emerged from the courthouse, I was surprised to see the massive crowd outside. There were cheers, well-wishes, hugs, and claps on the back. Word truly did travel fast in a small town—with lightning speed, apparently. It seemed the entire town had come out to offer their best wishes.
It wasn’t until an hour later, after we’d been personally congratulated by so many people I’d lost c
ount, that Clint and I headed to the ranch. Together.
He had asked his buddy Hawkeye to take my old Chevy back to the ranch so he could drive his new bride home.
Yes, those were the exact words he used—drive my new bride home.
He couldn’t possibly think this was a real marriage. Could he? No, of course not. I’d explained my reasons for a marriage of convenience to him this morning.
Wow, it seemed like a lot longer than just a handful of hours ago. Now here we were, husband and wife.
We climbed into Clint’s truck.
“Hawkeye and Gomer are meetin’ us at the ranch. They’ll help us get things back into shape.”
I stared down at my hands. “So all three of you can laugh at my lack of knowledge and the way I’ve taken care of the animals?”
He turned to me and scowled. “They better not dare. You’ve done a fine job. Unconventional, but fine. You kept ‘em alive and healthy. That’s the important thing.”
I met his eyes, and his expression was one of sincerity. “That’s not what you said this morning.”
“I was concerned for your safety this morning is all.” He reached over and took my hand. It was a gesture that had me immediately reliving that kiss in the courtroom.
My face heated and I stared at the floor, feeling mildly flustered, but warm and tingly all the same. It was an intimate moment. I should have kept my big mouth shut and just enjoyed it, but did I?
Nope.
Not me.
Of course not.
“So how does an uncontested divorce work around here? I assume we file paperwork at the courthouse. But after that, is there a mandatory waiting period or anything?”
Clint tensed. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
He stared straight ahead, but I could see the muscle in his jaw working, and his eye had started to twitch again—both, I’d already learned, were signs he wasn’t happy.
Well, my bad.
Hours after your marriage ceremony probably wasn’t the best time to broach the subject of divorce, but in my defense, I had made it clear that this wasn’t a real marriage. I’d been very upfront that it was merely a means to an end.
Clint was silent as we drove up the access road leading to the house. I opened my mouth to say something, anything that might cut through the tension that hung like a thick fog in the cab of Clint’s truck, but as we neared the house, the two men Clint had sent ahead were standing at the head of the drive, both wearing grim expressions.
I turned to Clint. “What’s going on?”
Clint’s eyes remained on them as he answered. “I don’t know, but it sure don’t look good.”
Chapter 9
Shay
Clint motioned for me to remain in the truck while he got out to talk to Gomer and Hawkeye. Obviously, he didn’t want me to hear what was said, but I couldn’t help myself. Slowly, I cranked the window down, and even though they spoke in hushed tones, I heard tidbits of the conversation.
“…found them both…”
“…other side of the pasture.”
“…mauled…wolf.”
It was enough for me to piece together the gist of the exchange. My heartbeat thundered in my chest as I leaped from the truck and sprinted toward the south pasture. Clint was by my side in a second, clutching me tightly and scooping me off the ground.
I wiggled and struggled in his arms. “Let me go!”
I kicked and punched trying to free myself from his grasp, but his arms were like steel beams.
“Don’t.” Clint’s mouth was an inch from my ear. He spoke soothingly, trying to calm me. “Shh. It’s okay, Sam. It’s gonna be alright. Stop fightin’ me. Please stop fightin’.”
It wasn’t until I heard a wailing sob emerge from my lips that I realized I was crying. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. “Just let me go. I need to see.”
He hesitated for a moment. “Okay, but only for a minute. It’s not a pretty sight, and I’m coming with you.”
When we reached the pasture, I was devastated by what I saw. My legs went weak and my knees hit the ground. It was Hannah, feisty Hannah, with the spot on her backside shaped like a heart, and sweet Bertha, who loved 1950s rockabilly. Both were lifeless.
Their loss was a dagger to my heart. What was worse was that it was my fault.
If I’d been a more experienced rancher, I might have done something differently—kept them safer, put them all in the barn when I’d gone to town, maybe. I didn’t know. All I knew was that it happened on my watch, and the guilt descended over me like a heavy weight.
I’d been responsible for them—and I’d failed them.
As I attempted to stem the flow of tears, large hands rubbed my shoulders. Clint said nothing, but his touch soothed away some of the hurt. Not the guilt, though. I didn’t deserve relief from that.
I tried to stand and walk, but when I stumbled, Clint was there to steady me. He kept hold of me, guiding me back to the house. My feet were heavy, but he was patient.
Inside, he led me to the couch and motioned for me to sit before he knelt in front of me. His blue eyes were sympathetic, and he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away my tears.
I sniffled. “I’m a bringer of bad fortune.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything to bring this on. Not a single thing. You are completely innocent.”
But Clint didn’t get it. I wasn’t innocent. Not by a long shot. Others had been hurt on my watch too. People had suffered because of me, and were undoubtedly still suffering. They hadn’t lost their lives, but they’d lost their life savings. All because of me—my stupidity, my naïvete, my carelessness. Now poor Bertha and Hannah were my victims too.
“I’ll find out what happened to the cows. Promise. We’ll make—”
“Will you please stop calling them cows?”
“They are…er…they…were…”
“Bertha and Hannah. Their names were Bertha and Hannah.” I pulled my knees closer to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. “Why would something do that? Was it a wolf? Why would a wolf attack them?”
He sighed and shrugged his big shoulders. “There are lots of wild animals out here. Coyotes, mountain lions, and yes, wolves. They mostly kill small animals when they’re hungry. I don’t know why they went for the c—I mean, Bertha and Hannah.”
I palmed my forehead. This new world was foreign to me. Animals killing other animals. Muggers, pickpockets, purse snatchers—those I understood.
“It makes no sense. I know Hannah liked to roam farther away, she needed her alone time, but Bertha was a homebody. She stayed in the middle of the family.”
“Family? You mean herd, right?”
A knock on the door interrupted us before I could reply. Hawkeye entered. “Barn’s been messed with too.”
My hand flew to my chest. “Is Baxter okay?”
“Baxter?” Both men turned to me questioningly.
“The pig!”
“Er, yes, ma’am, the—Baxter is fine.”
“How about Artemis?”
Clint ran his palms down his face. “Artemis?”
“The goat.”
Hawkeye nodded. “They’re both okay. Looks like our arrival might have interrupted whoever was messing around with the barn. Whatever was messing with the barn, I mean.”
Gilligan jumped up on the couch, curled his lumpy bones against my hip, and growled menacingly. Aww, sweet boy. He was trying to comfort me, which made my waterworks start up again. I stroked his head.
“Hawk, make sure the barn is secure and that the…Baxter and Artemis are safe. I’ll come out and we’ll gather the cows. Pappy had some temporary fencing in the barn that we can use if there’s a breach anywhere. I’ll be right out.”
Clint cupped my chin and turned my face to his. “We’ve got work to do. You gonna be okay in here by yourself for now?”
I wiped my cheeks and nodded. “I can help.”
He shook his head emphaticall
y. “Not with this part. You don’t need to see any more carnage than you already have.”
“I’m sure I could help with…something.”
“Not necessary. You’ve had a long day.” His voice was as tender as I’d ever heard it. Sheriff Grumpy Pants had a soft side. Who knew?
He took my hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
When I hesitated, wondering what was running through his mind, he gave my hand a tug, pulled me off the couch, and led me into the bathroom where he turned on the hot water in the shower.
“There you go. Let it warm up and then get yourself a nice long shower. Don’t you worry ‘bout nothing. We’ll take care of everything out there tonight.”
Clint leaned forward and looked as though he was going to kiss my forehead. But he didn’t. “Maybe have yourself something to eat too.” He hesitated again, then turned abruptly and left.
As the water heated, I stumbled into my room and grabbed some flannel pajamas. When I returned, I stepped under the steaming spray while still fully clothed. My clothes were filthy and couldn’t go into the wash with chunks of dirt and manure on them. The washing machine was an ancient contraption and the dryer was…well, the dryer was a clothesline out back.
Clint was right, I’d had one hell of a day.
The hot water didn’t last long, but when it turned cold a few minutes later, I hardly cared. It helped clear my head.
I stripped out of my wet clothes and finished washing under the icy stream as fast as possible before drying off and dressing. I tied my hair into a knot at the top of my head without bothering to brush it, then stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Poor Bertha and Hannah had met a gruesome end, probably because I sucked at cattle ranching.
The man who’d just married me—which I had no doubt he’d done because he pitied me and thought I was the dumbest person on the planet—was calling me by my friend’s name.
I’d come here to try to fix things, but instead, I seemed to be messing everything up even more.
I was a liar and a fraud, and the BS I was shoveling just kept piling up higher and higher.
The Moose Shifter's Fake Wife: A Steamy Shifter Rom-Com Page 5