The Texas Wildcatter's Baby

Irked, she narrowed her eyes at him and slapped her hat back on her head. “Whatever.” Although to be truthful she couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. “As far as you and I are concerned, however, this is only a temporary arrangement. One that can be undone as soon after the baby is born as possible.”

“And in the meantime?”

Ginger shrugged. “We don’t even have to live together. Well, not really,” she added hastily. “Especially if you end up working in another part of the state—”

“Not happening. I’m consulting in Summit County until the boom is over, same as you.”

She had been afraid of that. “Then we’ll get a place with separate bedrooms.”

“Why?” He smirked in a way meant to infuriate. “We’ll only end up in the same one.”

“No. We. Won’t. Sleeping together is what got us into this mess.”

He rubbed his jaw with maddening nonchalance. “Keep dreaming, sweetheart.” The corner of his mouth twitched in barely checked amusement. “That’s one vow you’ll never keep.”

Flustered by his blatant delight at her frustration, Ginger shoved her hand through her hair. She didn’t know why she let him get to her this way. “I don’t know what it is about you and me that has us arguing every time we’re around each other,” she complained.

The wicked gleam in his eyes said he did.

“But right now,” Ginger continued single-mindedly, “we need to focus on the least disruptive and most expedient way to say our I Do’s.”

Rand looked no more eager to head home and involve their families than she did. “Right here in Summit County is fine with me.”

“Me, too,” Ginger breathed, glad they were finally in concert about something. But then she felt the compelling pull of his gaze and her relief fizzled away. Steadfastly ignoring the shimmer of awareness sifting through her, she went back to her truck to collect the research she had already gathered, in preparation. Returning, she handed him his copy. “So here’s the plan....”

* * *

RAND HAD NEVER been one to let a woman take the lead. It just wasn’t in his nature. However, he knew that Ginger was right; they needed to get married as quickly as possible. Otherwise, Ginger was likely to change her mind and bolt again. Only this time she’d be taking his unborn child with her.

So the two of them left the creek bed and went straight to the county clerk’s office in Summit, Texas. They applied for a marriage license and made an appointment with a justice of the peace for as soon as the three-day waiting period expired.

“So I’ll see you here Thursday at noon?” Ginger said on the courthouse steps after they had finished the paperwork.

Rand nodded. “You want to meet here? Or have me pick you up?”

“We can meet here.”

He had figured she would say that. Although that, too, was going to have to change. Married people rode in the same vehicle, at least from time to time.

Pausing again, Ginger eyed him cautiously. “I’m just going to wear jeans...”

He shrugged. What did it matter since this wasn’t a real marriage? “Okay.”

“So no tie or anything,” Ginger persisted.

He hooked his thumbs through the loops on either side of his fly. “Shirt and shoes optional, too?”

Flushing slightly, she told him archly, “You know what I mean.”

He sure did. He rocked forward on his toes. “How about flowers? You want a corsage or anything?”

“Certainly not!” She appeared insulted at the thought.

He lowered his face until they were nose to nose. “You’re bringing your own?”

She scoffed in disgust and stepped back in a drift of orange blossom perfume. “I’m not having any.”

Of course she wasn’t. Aware Ginger brought the D to difficult, Rand retorted, “Is everything about us—as a couple—going to be this nonsensical?”

“Ultra casual,” she corrected. “And probably.”

Rand could only imagine how their families were going to take to that. His parents didn’t necessarily want everything to be fancy, but they did expect occasions such as weddings to be incredibly special. He’d only met Ginger’s mother once—in passing—but Cordelia Rollins had struck him as the ultimate helicopter parent. And one who would definitely want a big elaborate wedding for her only daughter. Not a hasty elopement.

“All right, then,” Rand said finally, making note not to adorn his new bride with any gift of a sentimental nature. “Good to know.”

Ginger’s hands flew to her hips. “You don’t have to be so caustic.”

As if he had started it. He let his gaze drift lazily over her before returning to her beautiful, emerald eyes. “You don’t have to be so prickly,” he shot back.

Her chin lifted in that all-too-familiar way. She sized him up for a long, thoughtful moment, then stepped a little closer. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing you’re so impossible.”

He shortened the distance between them even more, until only mere inches remained, then drawled, “And why, pray tell, is that?”

“Because then it won’t be a surprise to anyone when we decide to go our separate ways a year from now.”

“Or sooner,” he allowed with a sigh, not seeing at that moment how they were going to make it one month as a married couple, much less all the way to their baby’s birth.

“So...I’ll see you Thursday?” she said finally.

He held her gaze, aware that for reasons he preferred not to examine too closely, he was looking forward to their next step every bit as much as she seemed to be openly dreading it. “At noon.”

Her mouth twitching with satisfaction, she decreed, “I’ll see you then,” and sashayed off toward her pickup without a backward glance.

Chapter Two

True to her word, Ginger showed up on the courthouse steps Thursday at noon. In worn jeans, fancy Western boots, a white, lace-trimmed knit shirt and rose-colored vest, she looked pretty as a picture. “Ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Rand returned, more than ready to get the formality over with, too.

They walked into the courthouse, side by side. Only to promptly discover, to their mutual dismay, that all was not as it should be, after all.

“What do you mean we can’t get married today?” Ginger lamented when they found out the justice of the peace set to conduct their ceremony was not even on the premises. “We made an appointment to get married at noon!”

“I know.” The middle-aged court clerk swept a hand over his buzz-cut hair. “And believe me, the justice is sorry, but it can’t be helped. It’s a ‘family’ thing.” Then he continued, a little lamely, “So if you all want the J.P. to marry you, you’re going to have to reschedule...”

Not about to give up that easily, Rand asked, “Is there someone else who could perform the ceremony?”

“Not today. But...” The clerk studied the calendar on the computer in front of him. “The J.P. could fit you in a week from now, at three.”