The Texas Valentine Twins

If she wanted to play dumb, he could draw it out mercilessly, too. “Remember Vegas?” The most wildly romantic and absolutely soul-crushing time of their teenage courtship?

Her spine turned as stiff and unyielding as her mood. “I’d rather not.”

He agreed with her there. Their hasty elopement hadn’t turned out the way he’d envisioned. Her, either, judging from the blotchy red and white hue of her skin.

“It wasn’t just the wedding night you had trouble following through on,” he told her sarcastically, still not sure this wasn’t some kind of ruse cooked up by her, long ago, left to wreak havoc on him now. Seeing he had her complete attention, he continued, “You had a little difficulty with the paperwork, too.”

For a moment, she seemed not to even breathe. She regarded him warily. “What are you talking about?” she bit out finally.

His worst nightmare come true, obviously. “We’re still married.”

Chapter Two (#u8c4d55da-5eee-5a09-b805-a393dd73fbef)

A whisper of fear threaded through Adelaide. What Wyatt was suggesting was even worse than the thought that he might have somehow discovered the disturbing messages she’d been getting through her social media accounts. Messages that were also tied to her past, although in a different venue.

This was dangerous territory. “Stop clowning around.”

Scowling, he stood with his hands on his hips. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

No, he most certainly did not. A fact that unsettled her even more than the person pretending to be her MIA father. “Look, I don’t know who you talked to, Wyatt, but I signed everything and paid the lawyer the wedding chapel recommended before I left Nevada.”

His jaw took on a don’t-mess-with-me tilt. He stepped close enough she could almost touch the rough stubble lining his impossibly masculine jaw. “Then why isn’t there any record of the dissolution of our marriage?” he demanded gruffly.

Deciding being close enough to kiss was a terrible idea, Adelaide backed up. “I don’t know. Maybe you hired an incompetent private investigator.”

“And maybe the annulment was never filed,” Wyatt bit out. “Which is why I’ve asked Gannon Montgomery to meet us here in five minutes.”

The former Fort Worth attorney, now married and living in Laramie, had handled lots of clients with family money, fame and fortune, including a case involving the former Dallas quarterback’s son.

Adelaide should have known that her ex would revert to a legal solution to a very personal problem that, had they both been reasonable, would not have required any outside intervention.

“Fine,” she huffed, ready to call in her own ace attorney. She whipped out her cell phone. “You want lawyers involved? I’m calling mine, too.”

Luckily, it was the very end of the work day, and Claire McCabe was still in her office. She agreed to come right over. So by the time Adelaide had brewed a pot of coffee, Claire McCabe and Gannon Montgomery had both arrived.

Big and handsome, Gannon was a few years older than she and Wyatt. Claire was in her midfifties. She had two adopted children, and was the go-to attorney in the area for families who had children in extraordinary ways. Adelaide had always found Claire sympathetic and kind, and today, to her relief, she seemed to have extra helpings of both ready to dish out.

“So where are the twins?” Claire asked warmly.

“Upstairs, sleeping.” Adelaide glanced at her watch. “Hopefully for at least another half an hour.”

“Then let’s get to it, shall we?” Claire suggested.

Gannon sat at the dining table next to Wyatt. Claire sat next to Adelaide. While she poured coffee, Gannon and Claire perused the documents, then did quick searches on their laptops for any verification of an annulment. “I’m not finding any,” Claire said. “Under either of their names.”

“Nor am I,” Gannon added. “Although their marriage comes up right away, on Valentine’s Day, almost ten years ago.”

“So that means the detective agency is right,” Wyatt presumed, big hands gripping the mug in front of him. “Adelaide and I are still legally married?”

He looked about as happy as Adelaide felt.

Claire and Gannon nodded.

Adelaide did her best to quell her racing pulse. Even bad situations had solutions. “What will it take to get an annulment?” she asked casually.

More typing on the computers followed as both attorneys researched Nevada law.

“Were you underage?” Gannon asked.

Adelaide admitted reluctantly, “We were both eighteen. No parental permission was required.”

“Incapacitated in some way?” Claire queried. “Mentally, emotionally? Either of you intoxicated or high?”

Wyatt and Adelaide shook their heads. “We knew what we were doing,” he said.

In that sense, maybe, Adelaide thought, recalling how immature they had been. They hadn’t had any idea what it really meant to be married. Since both of them had remained single, they probably still didn’t know.

Gannon exhaled roughly. “Then you’re going to have to claim fraud.”

“I’m not doing that,” Adelaide cut in. Not with her family’s reputation.

“Well, don’t look at me. I’m not the one who changed my mind and backed out,” Wyatt said.

Claire lifted a hand and intervened gently. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

Adelaide flushed. Reluctant to discuss how foolishly romantic she had been, when they had set out for Vegas, after both had fought with their parents about the too-serious nature of their relationship. How determined they were to do something to show everyone, only to find out how scary it was to truly be in over their heads.

Adelaide drew a deep breath. “We eloped without thinking everything through.”

Wyatt sat back in his chair, the implacable look she hated in his smoky blue eyes. “What she’s trying to say is that she got cold feet.”

“Came to my senses,” Adelaide corrected him archly, irritated to find he still hadn’t a compassionate bone in him. When he merely lifted a brow, she continued emotionally, “You did wild and reckless things all the time, growing up, Wyatt. I didn’t.”

He scoffed, hurt flashing across his handsome face. “Well, we sure found that out the hard way, didn’t we?”

She knew she had disappointed him. She had disappointed herself. Though for entirely different reasons. Adelaide turned to their attorneys, explaining, “I was fine all through dinner, but when it came time to check into the hotel and consummate our union, I...” Choking up, Adelaide found herself unable to go on.

All eyes turned to Wyatt, who recounted dryly, “She panicked. Said she loved me, she just didn’t want to be married to me, not yet.” Accusation—and resentment—rang in his low tone.

Adelaide forced herself to ignore it, lest she too become caught up in an out-of-control emotional maelstrom. “I wanted to go home to Texas, finish our senior year of high school. And I wanted everything we had done, undone, without our families or anyone else finding out.”

Wyatt, bless his heart, had agreed to let her have her way.

Unlike now.

Exhaling, he continued, “We went back to the wedding chapel and asked the justice of the peace who married us if he could pretend we had never been there. He refused. But he gave us the name of someone who could help us.”

Adelaide remembered the relief she had felt. “So we went to the attorney’s office the next day and asked him to file an annulment.”