They were silent the rest of the way into town, and it was probably for the best. He pulled up to the small, brick building, and even though he knew she would protest, he opened her door and helped her out.
“Thank you,” she said, surprising him.
They walked into the courthouse, side by side, not touching, because they were just friends doing an illegal thing, and that was it. It was a surprise to him, how perfunctory a marriage could be. Because it wasn’t the vows that made it a marriage—you could write your own. It was the paperwork. And the fact that you had to say something in front of a judge and a witness. They elected to forgo traditional vows, because why?
Instead, he made promises of a different kind.
“If you ever need me, I’ll be there for you. Whatever, whenever. I’m your go-to.”
She nodded gravely. “I’m yours. Whatever. Whenever.”
They didn’t exchange rings. Rings were an occupational hazard for people who did ranch work or rode rodeo. So there was no reason for those, either.
They opted not to kiss, and not even that was a big deal. Then it was all said and done. They were in a courthouse in Gold Valley, the two of them legally married, and on their way in twenty minutes. They walked out as husband and wife. And it didn’t matter that he’d said none of the traditional words, didn’t matter that he hadn’t kissed her. Didn’t matter that it was supposed to be temporary... There was something in him that felt deeply, utterly possessive of her in that moment.
As if you didn’t before?
“Well, what should we do?” she asked.
“Get back to work, I guess,” he said.
“Yeah. Oh.” She pulled a face. “I need to call my parents.”
“You don’t have to do it today.”
She was still hanging on to those flowers.
“I mean, I should,” she said. “Because we have to prepare them for the fact that Christmas we’re going to show up... Together. Married.”
“Right. And so your story is that we fell madly in love at Thanksgiving?”
“You know, feelings brewing before then and things like that...”
“They’re going to think you’re pregnant,” he said. “You know that, right?”
She looked over at him with shocked eyes. “Surely not.”
“Honey, why do you think anyone gets married this quick? It’s not because of love, not because of lust, even. This isn’t the Dark Ages—you can have as much sex as you want without a legal commitment.”
“Maybe you’re a gentleman.”
He looked at her, fire filling his veins. “I am not.”
Her eyes widened a fraction and the color began to mount in her cheeks and she looked away quickly. That small moment, that flash of awareness, sent an answering heat barreling through him. “I mean, I know you’re not, not in general. Not to the buckle bunnies. But maybe you treated me different.”
“I’m not not a gentleman to buckle bunnies, to be clear,” he said. “What does that even mean? Everybody gets what they came for. You make it sound like I’m using them. And I’m not. I never have. I’ve never promised a woman something and not delivered it.”
She looked exasperated. But still wasn’t looking at him. “I guess that’s just... How people think of these things.”
“Yeah, because everyone thinks about things in this kind of traditional way. I don’t. I never have.”
Which made a mockery of the feelings that were settled like a weight in his chest right now. Because hell, the fact of the matter was, marrying her felt like something. And for someone who said he didn’t give a damn about these kinds of conventions, about traditional values or anything of the kind, he was affected by it.
He shook his head. “I treat people the way they want to be treated. That’s gentlemanly, isn’t it?”
“In fairness, I’m just saying things other people say. You know, the cowgirls complain about the buckle bunnies.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they do. I don’t know. I’m not saying any of it’s right, it’s just the way it is.”
“Right. The cowboys get to have all the casual sex they want. And there’s a kind of girl for it. But then... You treat other girls different.”
He had no idea why in hell she was pushing this now. This was not something they ever talked about. And he’d been more than fine with that.
He didn’t need to deal with his attraction to Cal while talking to her about sex.
“It’s not that. At least, not for me. Look, I can’t speak for my whole gender. And quite frankly, a lot of them suck. But for me it’s just... If I’m sleeping with a girl, I don’t want to have to see her again when I’m done.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s... Gross.”
“It’s not. I promise. I don’t want messy. It’s not... I don’t do emotions.”
He looked over at her for a moment. The look she was giving him was searing, searching and filled with a dark anger he didn’t expect. And it made him feel emotions. Contradicted him again. Made a liar out of him, and he didn’t consider himself a liar.
But that was the problem with Cal. She made him care. She made him feel things. Things he wasn’t used to. Things he didn’t want.
“So, you can’t sleep with cowgirls because you have to see them again. And is it because it gets messy, or is it because you’re afraid you might have feelings?”
“I’m afraid they’ll have feelings.”
Callie’s disgust was like a little tornado whipping around her. “You’re such an ass. You’re afraid they’ll just magically fall in love with you because... Because what? Sleeping with you is such a good time?”
He needed out of this conversation. He needed an eject button. And she didn’t seem interested in giving him one. She was just going to push and push. And he had to wonder if she really knew what she was saying to him. Honestly, he had to wonder if she was a...
If she was an actual virgin.
Who didn’t understand the topic that she’d introduced. The thought of sleeping with someone was this kind of vague and theoretical thing, because he could remember that.
Back when he’d been sixteen, and hadn’t got all the way with the girl. Hadn’t realized that it was physical and treacherous and intense. And he found ways to make it fun over the years. Fun so that he didn’t have those kinds of heartaches and pains and regrets after. And it had become something he relied on to give him an escape from hard feelings. From nights when memories of his family wanted to creep in. Yeah, he could erase all that with the right amount of whiskey and a woman who was looking for a good time. And he’d always figured they had demons they were running from, too. And as long as it worked for both of them, who cared? He wasn’t a therapist. If somebody wanted to use him to live in denial a little longer, that was just fine with him. Because he was using them to forget. He was using them to keep his mind from traveling down dark paths. He wanted it. He needed it.