Читать книгу The Maverick's Accidental Bride - Christine Rimmer - Страница 8
ОглавлениеWill heard a click when Jordyn opened the bathroom door.
He set the marriage license on the nightstand by his side of the bed and slowly rose, turning to face the woman he’d apparently married the night before.
Jordyn Leigh stood in the doorway. Her big blue eyes had dark shadows beneath them. Her peaches-and-cream skin looked slightly green, and her soft mouth trembled.
She’d put on the complimentary terry-cloth robe that had been hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Her hands were stuck in the pockets, and she kept her head pulled in, like a turtle trying to retreat into its shell. Her wheat-gold hair lay smooth and wavy across her shoulders. She must have used his comb before opening the door and facing him at last.
The sight of all that shining hair made him feel worse than ever. It sent random images of her, scenes from their shared past, sparking and flashing through his brain.
He saw her as a toddler with wispy yellow curls, running through the sprinklers in her front yard, wearing a bright orange bathing suit that tended to sag around her little bottom. And then he saw her in pigtails and busted-out jeans at nine or ten, astride one of the Traub horses.
And the night of her prom...
He couldn’t recall why he’d dropped by the Cates’s place that night, but he did remember Jordyn Leigh, her hand on the banister, slowly descending the front hall stairs, wearing a pink satin dress, her hair piled up high, held in place with sparkling rhinestone clips.
She was such a sweet thing. She deserved so much better than this.
He cleared his throat. “Jordyn, I—”
But she whipped a hand free of a pocket and held it up to him, palm out. “I’m getting dressed right now, Will Clifton,” she muttered through hard-clenched teeth. “I’m getting dressed and going back to the boardinghouse. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never tell a soul about this.”
Okay, he might be a low-down skunk for...whatever had happened last night, but she ought to know him better than that. “Jordyn, I would never—”
“Hush!” She raised her chin high and smacked the air between them with her palm. “Don’t, okay? Just don’t.” And then she gathered the robe closer at the neck. She did that with her left hand. He saw she wore no ring. But before he had time to consider what that might mean, she hunched into herself again and made a beeline for the chair and that blue bridesmaid’s dress.
He moved fast, skirting the end of the bed, to intercept her before she reached the chair. “Jordyn, wait.”
Folding her arms protectively around herself, she glared up at him. “Out of my way, Will.” Her breath smelled of toothpaste.
He felt another stab of mingled guilt and regret as he pictured her brushing her teeth in the bathroom mirror with her finger and a dab of toothpaste, trying to gather her dignity around her, trying to be strong. He told her gently, “Before you go, we need to talk.”
“Talking with you is the last thing I need.” She tried to dodge around him.
But he caught her by the shoulders. “Hey, come on...”
“Let me go, Will.” Her slim arms felt so delicate, so vulnerable, in his grip.
“Damn it, you’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not.”
“Am, too.” She shook all the harder. He wanted to gather her close, but he feared that putting his arms around her would only freak her out all the more.
They had to discuss this reasonably, with cool heads. But she looked so sick and frantic. He was afraid if he sprung the big news that they somehow got married on her right then, she might just drop to the rug in a dead faint.
Or maybe she already knew they were married. Maybe she remembered what had actually happened...
But they would get to that. First, he needed to settle her down, maybe get some food into her.
She jerked in his grip. “Damn you, Will Clifton. You let me go.”
But he didn’t release her. Instead, he turned her and walked her backward to the bed. “I mean it, Jordyn Leigh. You need to sit down before you fall down.” He gave her a gentle push.
And what do you know? Her knees gave out and she sank to the side of the bed. “Oh, dear Lord...” Her fake bravado deserted her. She let her shoulders slump and buried her head in her hands. “Oh, Will. What’s going on? I don’t remember...I don’t...”
“Shh, settle down,” he soothed. “Come on, put your feet up on the bed. Put your head on the pillow. Just, you know, rest a little, take it easy, okay?” Damned if she didn’t do what he said for once. Obedient as the child she kept insisting she wasn’t, she swung her feet up and stretched out. “Good,” he whispered, and pulled up the covers nice and cozy around her. “Water?”
Blue eyes wide and worried, she bit her lip and nodded. He got a bottle of water from the minifridge. She sat up, and he propped the pillows behind her as she sipped.
“I’m thinking aspirin and room service first,” he suggested. “Then we talk.”
She gulped down more water. “Okay,” she said in a tiny voice. “I could use some aspirin. And you’re right. We should probably talk.”
* * *
When the food came, Will served her in the bed.
Jordyn managed to get some dry toast and tea down, along with the aspirin. He moved their clothing from the chair to the sofa in the sitting area. Then he sat in the chair with his tray on his lap, shoveling in eggs, bacon, potatoes and a muffin, along with several cups of excellent Maverick Manor Blend coffee. By the third cup, he was feeling almost human.
Neither of them said much of anything while they ate. She avoided his gaze as she sipped her tea and nibbled her toast.
“Finished?” he asked finally. At her nod, he took her tray and put it with his outside in the hallway. He returned to the chair.
She smoothed her hair, though it didn’t need it. And then fiddled nervously with the sheet. “I don’t even know where to start, Will. I remember the wedding—”
He blinked. “My God. You do?”
She looked at him like he maybe had a screw loose. “You’re kidding? You actually thought I might have blacked out on the fact that Braden Traub and Jenny MacCallum got married yesterday?”
His racing heart slowed. “Uh. Right. Of course you remember that.”
“What? You don’t?”
“Oh, no. I do.”
“Will. You’re acting strangely.”
Yeah, and why wouldn’t he? It was a damn strange situation, after all. He watched as she plucked at the sheet some more. “Tell me what else you remember.”
She straightened the front of the terry-cloth robe and blew out a slow breath. “I remember the reception in the park, or most of it. I think. I remember what happened in the afternoon. I remember us dancing...” She twisted the sheet. “But the later it got, the more it all just becomes one weird, hazy blur.”
A sinister thought occurred to him, and he went ahead and shared it. “Maybe someone put something in your punch.”
She went straight to denial on that idea. “Oh, no. No. I don’t think so. Why would anyone do a thing like that?”
He regarded her patiently. “Why do you think?”
She wrinkled up her nose at him. “Oh, come on.”
“It happens, Jordyn. We all like to think it doesn’t. But what about that smart-ass cowboy in the white hat, the one who danced by and winked at you when we were first standing there at the punch table together?”
“He wasn’t a smart-ass. He was really nice.”
“Seemed like a smart-ass to me,” Will muttered.
But she shook her head. “No. Uh-uh. I don’t believe he would do a thing like that.” She stared off toward the window that looked out over the hotel grounds.
“Don’t just blow me off,” he insisted. “Think about it. I drank from your cup after you did, remember? So maybe both of us were drugged—Jordyn, are you even listening?”
She met his eyes then, but hers were a thousand miles away. “I don’t believe that guy drugged me. I just don’t. He was a great guy.”
“And you know this, how?”
She glanced away. “Okay, fine. He seemed like a great guy—and he never even had a chance to put anything in my drink. I danced with him once. He was nowhere near me when I served myself the punch.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. You’d have been more in a position to put something in my drink than anyone.”
He gaped at her in horror. “Jordyn. You really don’t think I would—”
“Of course not. And I don’t think that other guy did, either.” She’d stopped mangling the sheet—and gone to work wringing her hands. “And frankly, I’m more concerned with—” she turned away again and cleared her throat “—the question of whether or not you and I...” And then she looked at him again, her eyes huge and haunted. “Did we have sex, Will?”
Damn. Direct question. He tried to think of a gentle way to tell her that he had no idea if they had or they hadn’t.
But he took too long, and she went on. “I hope you know, because I don’t. I don’t know how we got here, Will. It’s all just vague, cloudy images, flashes of us dancing. Of us laughing together. Of us kissing...” Her too-pale face colored slightly.
He remembered those kisses, too, remembered that she smelled so good and tasted so sweet, that her slim body fit just right in his arms. “I remember kissing you, too.”
“So then tell me. Please. Did we...?”
He was forced to confess, “I’m sorry, Jordyn. But I don’t remember, either.”
She stared at him as though he’d just slapped her across the face. “Oh, fabulous.” More color flooded her soft cheeks—angry color now. “So I’m that forgettable, am I?”
“Jordyn, be fair. You don’t remember, either.” He said it roughly, letting his own frustration show—and then regretted his harsh tone when her eyes welled with tears. “Aw, come on, don’t cry...”
Too late. Fat tears spilled over and trailed down her cheeks. She sniffed. “I...I can’t help it. I’m a virgin.” His mouth dropped open when she said that. She let out a sad little sigh. “Or I was a virgin.” He gaped at her as she swiped furiously at the tears running down her face. “Can you just not look at me like that, please?” She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears still leaked out. “Oh, I can’t believe I just said that, just told you that...”
He tried to soothe her. “Jordyn, it’s okay...”
“It is not okay, and don’t you say that it is. Everything is very, very not okay.”
He pleaded, “You have to believe me. I can’t see how I would ever take advantage of you that way.” But he couldn’t be sure, damn it. Because he just plain did not remember.
Jordyn cried harder. “Oh, look at me. What a mess. And now I’ve said it. Now you know. I was a virgin—or I am a virgin. That’s what’s so awful. I don’t know if I am, or just was, because I can’t remember what happened.” And with that, she buried her head in her hands again. Her slim shoulders shook with desperate sobs.
Will had no idea what he ought to do to comfort her, so he just sat there and watched her cry. He felt lower than low. Not only had he possibly had sex with little Jordyn Leigh—if he had, she’d also been a virgin.
He didn’t have sex with virgins. He knew better than that.
Still sobbing, Jordyn shoved back the covers, scooted aside and stared at the sheets. “Nothing, no blood,” she said with a moan as she tugged on the hem of the robe. Then she whipped a few tissues from the box by the clock, blew her nose and declared, “I don’t see any blood, and I don’t feel like anything happened.” She tossed the used tissues toward the wastebasket, flipped the covers over her again and folded her arms across her middle.
Silence. Jordyn gazed into space. Will had no idea what she might be thinking.
But he needed to comfort her. He needed to wipe that lost look off her pretty face. So in the interest of injecting a positive note into this train wreck of a situation, he blurted, “Listen, it could be worse. If we did make love last night, at least we were married first.”
She missed the positive angle altogether and screeched, “Married? Have you lost your mind?” And she whipped one of the pillows from behind her and tossed it at his head. He put up both hands and caught it before it hit him in the face—at which point Jordyn screeched again. “Oh, my God! Will! Your finger!”
He peered cautiously around the pillow at her. “Huh?”
“You’ve got a ring on your ring finger, too!”
He just wasn’t following. “Too?”
She muttered something discouraging under her breath, tossed back the covers again and jumped to her feet.
“Jordyn,” he asked warily, “where are you going now?”
She didn’t answer, just headed for the bathroom. A moment later she returned, plunked herself down on the side of the bed and held up a ring like the one he wore, only smaller. “It freaked me out when I saw it on my finger,” she confessed glumly. “So I took it off and stuck it under a stack of extra towels.” She dropped it on the nightstand. It spun for a moment and then settled. Jordyn cut her eyes to him again. “I don’t remember getting married...though maybe, well, I do remember that little man with the black-rimmed glasses. He was the county clerk. Do you remember him?”
“I do. I remember him and his wife, the judge...”
She nodded, her eyes staring blankly into the middle distance again. “I stood beside you, Will. I remember that. I stood beside you under the moon. We were holding hands, and people were all around us, and Her Honor, the judge, was in front of us. And after that...”
“Yeah?”
A long, sad sigh escaped her. “After that, it’s all a blank.”
He couldn’t bear to see her looking so dejected, so he got up and went to her. She didn’t jump away when he sat down beside her, and that gave him the courage to wrap an arm around her. “You have to look on the bright side.”
She made a doleful sound. “There’s a bright side?”
“Yes, there is. Think about it. You saved yourself for marriage—and, well, if we had sex, we have proof that we were married at the time.”
At first, she said nothing, only eased out from under his sheltering arm and faced him. Her expression was not encouraging. Finally, she demanded, “That’s the bright side?”
He knew he’d stepped in it again. He gulped. “Er, it’s not?”
Proudly, she informed him, “You don’t get it, Will. It’s not marriage I was waiting for. It’s love. Or if not love, then at least special.”
He nervously scratched the side of his neck. “Ahem. Special?”
“Yes. Special. That’s what I waited for, something really special with a special, special man. And I have to tell you that having sex with you while unconscious is not the kind of special I was going for—plus, just because we woke up with rings on doesn’t mean we’re really married. Don’t you need a license to be really married?”
He gave her a long look as he wondered if he should even go there. And then he threw caution to the wind and asked, “So if there was a license, you would believe that our marriage was real?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that a trick question?”
“Stay right there.”
“Where are you going?” she demanded crossly as he got up, turned around and crawled across the mattress. “What are you doing?”
He crawled back, swung his legs to the floor so he was sitting beside her again—and held out the marriage license. “Believe it. It’s real.”
* * *
Jordyn read the document over several times before she could let herself believe what she was seeing.
Again, she remembered the skinny little clerk and his pink Cadillac, that briefcase where he kept those official documents. He could so easily have kept a box of cheap rings in there, too...
Will said, “So you see. I think it’s real. I think we really are married.”
Married. To Will Clifton.
She looked up into his worried eyes—and knew she couldn’t bear another minute, another second of sitting there beside him trying to pin down what, exactly, had happened last night. “Here.” She shoved the license at him. “I’ve had enough.” She jumped to her feet, ran to the sofa in the sitting area and snatched up her dress and shoes from where he’d set them before they ate.
“Jordyn, come on. We need to stay calm. We need to—”
“Stop talking, Will.”
“But—”
“Stop. Please. I can’t take any more. I’ve got to get dressed. I’ve got to get out of here.” And with that, she ran into the bathroom and shut and locked the door.
* * *
“The county courthouse and offices are closed for the three-day weekend.” Will eased his quad cab to the curb in front of Strickland’s Boarding House. “They open again tomorrow. First thing in the morning, we’ll head for Kalispell and straighten this craziness out. Maybe that license isn’t even filed yet. Maybe we can make this whole thing just go away.”
Jordyn stared out the windshield. For the moment, the street was quiet. No kids out playing, no neighbors working in their yards or walking their dogs. If she moved fast, she might get up the steps and in the front door before anyone spotted her going in wearing the same blue dress and high heels she’d been wearing the night before.
Will caught her arm as she leaned on the door handle. “Jordyn. Tomorrow?”
She gulped and nodded. “Yes. Tomorrow morning. Okay.”
He stared in her eyes as though looking for a sign from her—but a sign of what? She had no clue. His cell started ringing, which was great because he let her go.
“Tomorrow,” he said again, the phone already at his ear.
She made her escape, jumping to the sidewalk, shoving the door shut and then turning to sprint along the walk and up the stairs of the ramshackle four-story Victorian. She had her key out and ready when she hit the door. All she wanted was to get in and get up the two sets of stairs to her room on the third floor without having to talk to a soul.
But no.
As she fumbled to stick the key in the lock, the door swung open. Sweet old Melba Strickland, who owned and ran the boardinghouse, stood on the other side wearing one of those floral-patterned dresses she favored and a pair of very sensible shoes. Melba was at least eighty, but spry. She had a warm heart, a willing hand—and a staunch moral code.
Melba believed in the power of love. She also believed that sex should only occur between two people married in the sight of God and man. She’d made it way clear from Jordyn’s first day at the rooming house almost two years ago now that there would be no hanky-panky on the premises. Yes, it was the twenty-first century, and Melba’s old-fashioned ideas didn’t stop her tenants from hooking up, anyway. They just did it discreetly.
Coming home in the middle of the afternoon in last night’s bridesmaid’s dress, looking like something the cat dragged in?
Not exactly discreet.
“Honey, are you all right?” Melba took Jordyn’s hand and pulled her inside. “When you didn’t come down for breakfast, I assumed you just needed a little extra sleep after the big party last night. By eleven or so, though, I began to worry. You’re not the kind to sleep half the day away.” Jordyn saw no judgment in Melba’s eyes—nothing but affection and honest concern.
Again, the image of her and Will in front of Carmen Lutello last night rose up in her mind’s eye. Had Melba been there?
No. If she had, she would have known why Jordyn didn’t come down for breakfast. Plus, it had happened pretty late in the evening, hadn’t it? Melba and her husband, Old Gene, rarely stayed up past ten.
Melba patted her hand. “Darling, what’s wrong? What’s happened? You look so pale.”
“I’m all right,” she baldly lied. “There’s nothing wrong.”
“Have you eaten?” The old woman started herding Jordyn toward the arch to the dining room.
“I had some tea and toast.” Gently, Jordyn eased free of Melba’s grip. “I’m not hungry.”
“You sure, now?”
“Yes. I’ll, um, be down later and get something then.” She headed for the stairs and took them at a near run, never once pausing or glancing back until she’d reached the third-floor landing, where she halted, breathing fast, her stomach roiling, listening for the sound of Melba’s sensible shoes coming up behind her.
But Melba stayed below. With a sigh of relief, Jordyn hurried along the third-floor hall to her room. She’d barely shut the door and sagged against it when her cell started ringing.
“What now?” She dug it out of her clutch and tossed the clutch on the dresser nearby. The display read Will. Just Will. She couldn’t remember having Will’s cell number—and if she had, she’d have programmed in his last name.
Which was now her last name.
“Oh, God.” With an unhappy moan, she answered it. “How did you get my number?”
“I have no idea. I’m guessing we probably exchanged numbers last night.”
“Of course.” They’d exchanged so much last night. Phone numbers. Wedding vows. Possibly bodily fluids. She moaned again.
“Jordyn, are you okay?”
“No, I am not. Where are you, Will?”
“Out in front, in my pickup.”
“Why aren’t you gone yet?”
“Because I got a call from Craig.” Craig was the oldest of Will’s brothers.
“Why does that sound like very bad news?”
“Look. I just think you should know. Craig was there last night, when we got married. So was half the town, apparently.”
Half the town? Lovely. Half the town knew more than she did about what she and Will had done last night. “I know there were people there. I told you that. This isn’t news, Will.”
“Yeah, it kind of is.” He sounded scarily grim.
She kicked off her sparkly shoes and slid down the door till her butt hit the floor. “Just tell me.”
“Craig says everyone’s talking about it, about the ceremony in the park, about our, um, smoking-hot kiss—you know, the one that sealed our vows?”
Her headache had come back. With a vengeance. “So we kissed. Of course we kissed. That’s what you do when you get married. Is that all?”
“Er, no.”
“Then what else?”
“We made the Rust Creek Falls Gazette.”
“What are you talking about, Will? I don’t understand...”
“Apparently, there’s this column called Rust Creek Ramblings written by some mystery gossip columnist. Does that ring a bell?”
Nobody knew who the columnist was, but he or she always had the scoop, was always outing the personal, intimate and romantic business of people in town. A low moan escaped Jordyn. “Oh, no...”
“Yeah. Craig says this morning’s column is all about you and me. All about our surprise wedding. It’s, uh, not all that flattering, Craig says.”
“Not all that flattering. What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m going to go get a copy of the Gazette and find out.”
Jordyn cast a longing glance at her bed with its pretty white eyelet bedspread. All she wanted at that moment was to get in and pull the covers over her head.
“Jordyn, we really need to talk some more. We need to give careful consideration to how we want to handle this. We have to—”
“Will.”
“Yeah?”
“I need some rest.” She was going to take a hot shower, crawl under the covers and not come out for a year.
“All right,” he said resignedly.
“Thank you.”
And then he just had to remind her, “Tomorrow. First thing. We’re going to Kalispell, remember? I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“I remember. I’ll be ready.” She hung up.
About then, it occurred to her that she was expected at work tomorrow. She would need the day off, and the sooner she called in, the better. She autodialed Sara, one of her two bosses at Country Kids Day Care Center.
“This is Sara Johnston.”
“Hi, Sara, it’s Jordyn Leigh.”
“Hey! What a party yesterday, huh? I hear congratulations are in order...”
Jordyn, still on the floor in front of the door, put a soothing hand on her iffy stomach and wished her head would stop hurting. “I, um, yeah. Thank you. It was something, wasn’t it?” she offered lamely.
“I just wish I’d been there. Suzie told me.” Suzie Johnston was Sara’s twin sister and her partner in the day care. “Suzie said it was so romantic, and you and your new husband looked so happy together. He’s from Thunder Canyon, I understand. Just like you.”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve known him since we were kids.”
“He’s one of Cecelia’s brothers, right?” Cecelia Clifton Pritchett used to live at Melba’s boardinghouse, too. So had Cece’s new husband, Nick. Sara said, “His name’s Will, right?”
“That’s right—and Sara, listen, I called because I kind of need to take the day off tomorrow...” Jordyn’s voice trailed off as she realized that she would have to tell Sara something about why she needed the day. She gathered her courage to explain everything.
But Sara believed that Jordyn was a real newlywed. “Take the week, if you need it. Be with your new hubby. Enjoy every minute. Have yourselves a honeymoon, for goodness’ sake.”
“You’re an angel.” And I ought to have the integrity to tell you the truth. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not right now. She’d deal with all that later. “I just need tomorrow. I’ll be in Tuesday.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“If you change your mind, just call. We can manage if you need the time.”
“Thanks so much.”
“You’re so welcome—and Jordyn Leigh, you be happy, you and your new husband, you hear? It all goes by so fast, believe me.” Sara’s voice held the weight of sadness now. She’d lost her husband in a car accident when their youngest was only a baby. “You need to treasure every moment the good Lord gives you together.”
“Thanks, Sara. I will.” The good Lord was probably up in heaven shaking His head.
Still, Jordyn let Sara believe what she wanted to. Eventually, the moment of truth would come, and Jordyn would face it. At least by then she’d be done with this awful hangover.
Sara said goodbye at last. Jordyn disconnected the call, dragged herself to her feet, grabbed her shower caddy and her robe and headed for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
* * *
Feeling pretty damn bad about everything, Will drove the two blocks to Crawford’s General Store to get a copy of the Rust Creek Falls Gazette. The coin-operated rack by the entrance was empty, so he went inside to ask where else to get a paper.
Mrs. Crawford had a stack of them by the register. She took his money and congratulated him on his marriage. “I hope you and Jordyn Leigh will be very happy together.” She seemed sincere enough.
Will thanked her, stuck the paper under his arm and turned to go. But he just happened to walk down the center aisle on his way out, the one lined with canned goods of every variety.
Two middle-aged ladies stood chatting in that aisle. One was tall and heavyset, the other thin with gray hair pulled back into a tight little bun. They didn’t see him coming, they were so wrapped up in gossiping together.
The tall one clucked her tongue. “It’s a disgrace is what it is. Two virtual strangers, that’s what I heard.” Will hesitated several feet away, dread creeping like a spider down his spine. Neither lady turned to see him standing there. The tall one went on, “They got married in a drunken stupor right there in Rust Creek Park at eleven o’clock last night.”
The thin one said, “I heard that the blushing bride is one of those desperate Gal Rush women. Came to town looking for a husband during reconstruction after the flood.”
“Well, and now she’s caught one.”
“Hah. But not for long, I’ll bet. My guess is the groom’s probably already running for the hills like his hair’s on fire.”
The tall one chortled merrily.
And Will knew he couldn’t let that stand. So what if he and Jordyn were planning to end their unexpected marriage ASAP? Didn’t matter. He wasn’t standing by and having the sweet, spunky girl he’d grown up with disrespected.
“It’s a disgrace to the institution of marriage,” declared the thin one with an angry sniff.
That did it. Will walked right up to them. “Excuse me, ladies.” He tipped his hat. Looking startled, they both turned to stare at him. He said, “It so happens that you are misinformed.”
“Well, I never...” said the tall one.
“Really?” The thin one sneered.
“Yes,” he said. “Really. You see, I’m the groom you were just now discussing.” He offered the tall one his hand. “Will Clifton.” She took it limply then quickly let go. “Pleased to meet you.” He gave her his warmest smile and turned to the skinny one. “Ma’am.” The thin one blinked several times in rapid succession before briefly taking his offered hand.
As soon as she released his fingers, Will swept off his hat and pressed it to his heart. “Have a good look now, ladies.” He tipped his chin down so they had a clear view of every hair on his head. “Not a spark, not an ember, not one whiff of smoke. My hair is not on fire, so you got that all wrong. As a matter of fact, I’m a local now. I’ve bought the old Dodson place east of town. I’m going nowhere. Why would I want to? Rust Creek Falls is my home. And that’s not all. I don’t know where you’ve been getting your information, but someone has been telling you lies. Because my new wife and I did not marry impulsively.”
Well, who was to say about that? Neither he nor Jordyn remembered their exact states of mind at the time they’d said their vows.
He continued, “Jordyn Leigh and I are both from Thunder Canyon. We are by no means strangers to one another. In fact, we’ve known each other since we were children. Our families are very good friends. I’m the happiest man in the world right now, because I love my wife with all my heart, and the day has finally come when she is mine.” Yeah, all right. The love stuff was total crap. But so what?
It worked.
The tall lady sputtered out, “Well, I...erm...” and then couldn’t figure out what to say next.
The thin one looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.
Will put his hat back on. “Real nice to meet you ladies. Have a great day, now.” He took his Gazette out from under his arm, gave them a final wave with it and headed for the door.
Once back in his quad cab, he dropped the paper on the passenger seat and got the hell out of there. A few minutes later, he was pulling into the parking lot at Maverick Manor a few miles down the highway, southeast of town. He didn’t open that paper until he was safe in his room.
The gossip column was a long one. It covered a lot more strange goings-on than what had happened between him and Jordyn. Others had behaved badly last night, and the mystery columnist hadn’t hesitated to lay it all out there in black-and-white, including the waitress who went swimming in the park fountain and ended up in jail for it, and also a poker game at the local watering hole, where one of the Crawford boys won somebody’s ranch.
The part about Will and Jordyn came last. Unlike those two awful ladies in Crawford’s, the column was not cruel. Looked at objectively, he supposed the story of his spur-of-the-moment marriage might even seem romantic. But the fact remained that he hated to have a spotlight shone on the night he could barely remember—and he knew that Jordyn would hate it, too. In the end, what were they but two moonstruck idiots who’d lost their heads and tied the knot?
Frankly, reading it pissed Will off. No, it wasn’t mean-spirited. But come on. Whoever wrote it should at least have had the guts to put their name to it. And didn’t that columnist even wonder what had gotten into everyone last night?
Will did. He still suspected that cowboy in the white hat of spiking their punch. And beyond the issue of who put what in Jordyn’s punch, the column and the encounter with the two ladies in Crawford’s store had him rethinking what to do next.
Because they were married, and everyone seemed to know it. And in a town like Rust Creek Falls, people took their wedding vows seriously. If he and Jordyn didn’t find the right way to deal with this accidental marriage of theirs, she would be shamed before the whole town, and he wouldn’t look like much of a man.
The more he reconsidered their situation, the more certain he became that he and Jordyn needed a better plan than just to race off to Kalispell to see if they could call the whole thing off. Because it was too damn late for that.
