“It’s easy,” Stone says, swallowing a mouthful of water and slowly placing the glass back on the table. “We’ll get married.”

 

Shannon’s staring at me as though I’ve grown two heads, and I may very well have. This morning I signed the divorce papers. As Grace and I had been separated for so long it was a simple process, and the standard waiting period to re-marry had been waived.

What the hell am I thinking? I don’t want to get married again. Although, I can’t deny the idea has a certain appeal.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” Shannon gasps, letting out a short laugh.

“I am.” I nod, realizing I really am. “Think about it. You need money. If we’re married, my money becomes our money. Your money.”

She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe I am,” I concede. “But can you think of any other ideas?”

“I can think of ten!”

“Let’s hear them then.” I sit back and cross my arms, looking at her expectantly.

She opens her mouth to say something then snaps it shut and looks away.

“You’ve got nothing,” I say smugly.

“I’m still thinking,” she retorts, but I can see the defeated slump of her shoulders. I push the half-empty wine glass over to her and she grabs it without looking at me, draining the last of it.

I discretely signal to the waiter for the check and take my wallet out of my jacket pocket, flicking my credit card onto the table. I focus back on Shannon, who looks much too pale. “Are you okay?” I ask quietly, touching her hand.

“Don’t touch me,” she snaps, snatching her hand back and grabbing the crutches that still lean against the wall. I try to hide my smile as she struggles to her feet.

This is no laughing matter. Not really. “Do you need a hand?” I ask, getting to my feet.

“No, I don’t need a hand,” she replies sarcastically. “I can manage just fine without you.” She stiffly hobbles out of the restaurant.

I sit there impatiently, drumming my fingers as I wait to get my credit card back. I have to catch up to her; who knows what she might try to do if I don’t? She’s so stubborn, she’d likely try to hobble home on those damn crutches.

The waiter finally returns with my card, and I don’t bother taking the time to put it back in my wallet. I shove it in the pocket of my slacks as I race out of the restaurant, dodging the tables full of couples.

I glance up and down the street, but I needn’t look far. She’s about a hundred yards down the road, her back to me. I cup my hands around my mouth. “Shannon!”

She glances over her shoulder, but doesn’t stop walking. Passing under a street light, she disappears from view.

Cursing savagely under my breath, I pull the keys from my pocket and jog to my truck, yanking the door open with one hand as I loosen my red tie with the other.

Sliding behind the wheel, I turn on the ignition, pulling out of the parking lot. I drive slowly, using the truck’s headlights to look into the darkness. I finally see her up ahead and pull up, rolling slowly along beside her. “Shannon,” I call through the open passenger window. She glances at me but doesn’t say anything. “Damnit,” I curse, putting the brakes on and jumping out. I jog around the side of the truck and stop directly in front of her. “Will you fucking listen to me?”

“What?” she yells, finally stopping. She shoots me a glare that’s cold enough to freeze Hell over.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I ask.

“What’s wrong?” she asks disbelievingly. “What’s wrong?” She’s yelling again.

“Shh,” I soothe, glancing at passers-by. “Would you keep it down?”

“Oh, sure.” She laughs, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “I’ll keep it down just as soon as you stop being a jackass.”

“What?” I ask, genuinely bewildered. I knew she wouldn’t like the suggestion, but this is ridiculous. I gesture to the truck. “Look, can we just go home and talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Shannon cries. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to get in that car.”

“Truck,” I correct her, wincing when she shoots another dagger-filled look at me.

“Really?” she asks sarcastically. “Really? You think this is the perfect time to make jokes?”

“It wasn’t a joke,” I say a little defensively. A Texan man is allowed to be pedantic about his vehicle of choice.

“Whatever,” she snaps.

“Look,” I start, raking a hand over my head. I’m getting frustrated now. Why the hell does she have to be so damn stubborn? “Just get in the damn truck and let me get you indoors. I promise you can yell at me all you want later, but I’m tired.”

Shannon glances from me to the truck and back again. Finally, she looks away and lets out a loud sigh. “Fine,” she says. “Let’s go.”

I expect her to yell at me all the way home, but instead I’m met with stony silence. I glance in the rearview mirror at her at least a dozen times. She’s staring out the window, an ugly scowl marring her beautiful features.

I can’t believe I suggested we get married. Didn’t I learn my lesson the last time I tried settling down? It didn’t work out so well. But the more I think about it, the more the idea begins to appeal to me. Perhaps being married to Shannon Harper wouldn’t be as bad as all that. We clearly have a lot of sexual chemistry, and our opinionated personalities would certainly keep the relationship interesting.

Relationship? Who am I kidding? If Shannon agrees to this, it’ll be a marriage in name only; she’ll make sure of that. I’ll be nothing more than a means to an end, a way to pay off her father’s debts.

I’m surprised by the disappointment that floods through me at that realization, but I quickly brush it off. I’m doing this for Shannon, to help her. I need to remember that before I lose more than just my pants.

By the time we pull up to the house, I’m a nervous wreck. I wasn’t even this nervous when I proposed to Grace fourteen years ago, but suddenly this little spitfire of a woman’s opinion of me is the most important thing in the world. And I feel like I’m fucking everything up.

I cut the engine and hop out of the truck, walking around to open the back passenger side to help Shannon to her feet. That’s when I realize why she’s been so quiet. She’s sleeping soundly, her head resting against the back seat as small tendrils of golden hair brush her face. I take a second to move the silky strands and, without much thought, I swoop her into my arms, kicking the truck door closed behind me as I walk up to the front door. Shannon stays asleep the entire time, her head lying comfortably against my chest. I try to ignore how right this feels.

Unlocking the door, I carry her through to the spare bedroom and place her gently down on top of the covers. She shivers a little in her sleep, and I drag a heavy quilt from the wardrobe and lay it across her, tucking her in. More than anything I want to shake her awake, find out what her answer is to my proposal. But she looks so damn peaceful that I can’t bring myself to do it. I stand there watching her sleep for a few minutes.

Oh, yeah, I could definitely get used to sleeping next to a woman like Shannon.

I walk back out to the living room and lock the front door, pausing as I move past the kitchen. The sudden urge for a beer overpowers me, forcing me to clench my fists until my nails dig into the soft flesh. I can’t do it. I’ve already come so far.

Satisfied by that small victory, I enter my bedroom and strip down to my boxers, leaving the suit on the floor as I slide beneath the covers. I’m surprised by how calm I feel. Normally, I’m worried about going to bed, because that’s when the screaming starts. But tonight, knowing she’s right next door gives me an inner strength that’s both encouraging and surprising.