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A flicker of relief passes over Lucas’s eyes, but he masks it quickly. “All right, then,” he says, his voice steady. “We can go when you’re ready. I’ll have to go by my house to pick up my documents, but it won’t take long. Whenever you’re ready, we can go.”
“Okay. I’ll finish breakfast and get ready. The courthouse won’t be open until nine anyway, right?”
“I know the magistrate. She'll come in early if I ask her.”
"Of course you know the magistrate. You know everyone in this town," I say with a grin, sitting at the table and picking up my half-eaten biscuit.
"I left home when I was eighteen, as soon as I was legal and could get away from my mother," Lucas says, his eyes dark with memories. "I landed here and haven't looked back. People come to Shelby and they stay. Put down roots, have a family, and grow old together. Those who leave do so in a casket or an urn after a long and happy life."
"That's what I've always wanted. Some women dream of a career, but my dream was always a safe place to live, a man who loves me, and a houseful of kids." I smile wryly. "I guess that's as anti-feminist as it gets."
Lucas shakes his head. "It's not anti-feminist to know what you want. Recognizing your desires, what makes you happy, is the definition of empowerment."
I stare at him in wonder. Where did this guy come from? He's wrecking me with his words, his actions. Just him.
I'm about to marry this man on a whim to avoid the forced marriage my father has arranged. I know that man would simply take what he wanted, things I don't want to give, and it fills me with revulsion.
Still, I wonder about the true reason behind Lucas's offer. He says he wants me, and not only temporarily. How can he know that after so little time?
Yet I can't dismiss the undeniable attraction surging between us. I was so exhausted and afraid when Lucas pulled me over three days ago that I barely acknowledged it. But now, in this quiet moment, as the sun rises higher in the sky and chases away the shadows, I feel our soul-deep connection in my bones.
That feeling continues as I finish my breakfast and get ready to go out. No part of me screams at me to run from Lucas. In fact, the opposite is true. I want to run to him. Whatever lies ahead with him, it's a damned sight better than what my father planned to put me through.
I smile at him when I catch him watching me in the mirror as I brush my teeth.
Lucas Lawson is still unknown to me in many ways, but my instincts tell me to follow his lead. They tell me he’ll keep me safe and that the hint of a promise in his eyes will take me to a place I can call home.
I wipe my mouth, pull my hair into a neat braid, and turn to him. “Don’t we need rings?”
“There’s a jeweler on Main Street where we can get rings,” Lucas answers, his gaze lingering on me.
My jeans and long-sleeved white blouse aren't exactly the wedding finery I envisioned in my romantic fantasies when I was a kid, but they'll do. They have to because I only packed necessities when I left Chicago. Rummaging in my suitcase, I grab the plastic folder with my birth certificate and other documents before sliding my feet into the brown leather shoes I kicked off the night before.
I take a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
Lucas nods and gives me a soft smile before turning to open the door. I grab my keycard and purse as we leave the motel room.
I stop when I see his cruiser. “Want to drive my car? Less conspicuous than turning up at the courthouse in a police cruiser."
“Sure, no problem,” he says, taking the keys I offer.
We walk to the private parking lot at the rear of the motel. I slide into the passenger seat, aware of Lucas's large body so close to mine. He seems even bigger in my small car, but he doesn't complain. He simply slides the seat back and starts the car.
“I’ll stop at my house before we head to the courthouse,” he says, guiding the car out of the parking lot and onto the road.
I watch him, aware of him in ways I'm not accustomed to, especially after that blistering kiss earlier. The clean scent of laundry soap from his clothes teases my nostrils, and the heat of his arm, so close to mine, causes a shiver to ease down my spine. He drives with consummate ease, constantly scanning the road ahead.
My gaze moves to his hands on the steering wheel. I love his hands. Tanned. Strong. Capable. His fingers are long, his palms broad, his nails clean and short. Those hands could wrap me up and cherish me in a way my father could never understand. He doesn't wear any rings of any kind, but soon, a wedding band will circle his finger. The thought makes my pulse jump.
Lucas is about to become my husband. The more I think about it, the more the idea soothes some part of my battered soul.
If we get married, and you want it to be more than name only, it's your choice.
I bite my bottom lip and look away when I think about those hands touching me, exploring and teasing my body. I swallow hard, my cheeks heating as images fill my head. Is he big all over?
For better or for worse, I'm about to become the wife of an incredibly hot, protective husband.
Maybe, just maybe, he'll be the answer to my prayers.
