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“Are you playing with me, Beau?”
“If we skip the rest is it still legal?” She pulled on her hands like holding mine for much longer was too much.
In another time and place, I might have been insulted she didn’t want to go through the whole spiel, but I just wanted to get this over with too.
I had to give the minister credit. This had to be the most shocking response, especially for a couple soeagerto get married. Somehow he kept his features neutral. “Well, no, I need . . . um, consent . . . to legalize the marriage. For you, Beau, to consent to this union. So, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She lifted her chin in defiance. “Fine. Yes, I do.”
The minister shifted uncomfortably. “Okay. I can now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
She hadn’t let me anywhere near her mouth since she’d been back. Like kissing me was too intimate. And I’d been on board with that. Just because these vows had been forced didn’t mean I wasn’t taking them seriously. Because this was Beau.
And that included sealing our deal the proper way.
I leaned forward.
She pulled her hands out of mine and shoved them against my chest. “Don’t even think about it.”
But I wouldn’t force her into something she didn’t want. Especially not after the hell she’d been through lately.
“Mrs. Calhoun,” I murmured against her cheek before I kissed the soft skin.
She stiffened but accepted the gesture.
Fake or not. Bad circumstance or real. She might’ve picked the wrong man to rescue her.
Because I hadn’t just said those vows. I meant them.
And I didn’t break promises.
Which was going to be a huge problem when she wanted me to let her go.
Because I’d just married the only woman I’d ever loved.
Chapter Four
Beau
Mrs. Calhoun.
I’d married Cal. I’d. Married. Cal.
Was I insane?
And what would happen next?
Where was the relief that I couldn’t marry Alex now? I was extraordinarily happy about that. And even though I hadn’t behaved like it, I was grateful to Cal that he’d saved me from that horror.
But this brought on a whole new problem. I’d acted on impulse. In desperation. And hadn’t given a thought beyond the ceremony.
“It’s not Bora Bora, but there’s a diner in Woodlawn that has a killer breakfast.”
I inched closer to the car door like a child instead of a woman who could handle herself. “Why would we go there? To celebrate?” I asked crisply.
“To eat. I’m starved,” he said with a smirk. “But I’d think you’d want to celebrate. You got what you wanted, right?”
My stomach knotted.
