I arch a brow, lips twitching. “You realize you have lipstick on your face, right?”
He nods, his thumb circling my wrist. “I like being marked by you.”
Holy shit.
My heart races when he draws my wrist to his lips and places a chaste kiss on my pulse point, his breath warm against my skin. It has me picturing all the other wicked things he could do with that mouth of his.
“You lovebirds getting hitched or what?” Carol calls out impatiently.
Heath and I both look over to find her pointing at her watch, motioning for us to get a move on.
“Nowtheregoes our plan of keeping things under wraps,” I muse with a grin.
I can feel every pair of eyes fixed on us with blatant curiosity. Our bickering matches are legendary around here, and after Carol’s announcement, the sight of us heading into the judge’s chambers will send the whole town into a frenzy.
Judge Clark releases an exasperated sigh, his gaze darting between Heath and me.
“You sure you don’t want more time to think about this?”
He’s in front of his desk, holding our unsigned marriage license, looking far more inclined to light the thing on fire than to officiate our wedding. His enthusiasm is certainly a promising start to this union.
“Isn’t it your job to perform the ceremony, not talk us out of it?” Heath asks, voice clipped.
“What he means is yes, we’re sure,” I chime in sweetly, nudging Heath’s arm.
The last thing we need is to be escorted out before we make this official. Then again, maybe the universe is trying to warn us that this is a terrible idea. I’d kill for a pen and paper to scribble a pros and cons list right now—probably not the most reassuring sign that I’m all in.
Judge Clark stares at us for a long beat before reluctantly waving us forward. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
A soft gasp slips from me when Heath’s hand settles on my lower back, ushering me forward. Cowboys are my kryptonite—particularly ones with a five o’clock shadow and a permanently furrowed brow like the one Heath wears now. I take amoment to appreciate how he dressed up for the occasion in his white button-up, Wranglers, and polished boots. He looks devastatingly handsome, and I hate how quickly my resolve slips whenever I glance his way.
The logical side of my brain is still conflicted about this arrangement, but the part responsible for the butterflies swarming in my stomach has me seconds away from dragging him closer. And doing something wildly inappropriate in front of the judge, like discovering all the other places I could mark him with my lipstick.
This has to be the pregnancy hormones talking.
Can they make you want to throttle someone and cling to them like a koala at the same time? I make a mental note to ask Wren about it later.
Oblivious to the way Heath’s touch has scrambled my thoughts like eggs, Judge Clark clears his throat and begins the ceremony in a painfully monotone voice.
I swear right then and there that if I ever get married again, I’m picking an officiant with a sense of humor who doesn’t sound like he’s personally offended by my nuptials.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stay quiet. No way am I explaining to the judge that I’m daydreaming about another wedding before this one is even finished—or how bitter the idea of standing beside any other groom feels.
I’m chalking it up to a mix of insanity and pregnancy hormones.
“Do you both come here freely and without reservation to be married? If anyone has cause to object, speak now,” Judge Clark recites flatly.
“We already went over this. We’re sure—”
Heath never finishes the sentence before the door flies open. Julie Halstead barrels in with her husband in tow, followed byBriar, Jensen, Birdie, and Walker. Our family and friends stop dead, staring at our joined hands in stunned silence.
Julie clutches her chest, still catching her breath. “Please tell me we didn’t miss it.”
“Ma, what are you doing here?” Heath blurts.
Her eyes narrow as she puts her hands on her hips. “You don’t get to ask questions, not when you’re standing in the judge’s chambers about to get married.”
“How did you find out?” he asks.
