“I told you.”
“No.”
She held up the papers.
“Why would you do this for someone you barely know?”
His face softened.
“Because somebody should.”
The bride looked away before he could see the tears.
Too late.
He did.
He did not approach.
That almost made it worse.
She wiped her face angrily.
“You can stop standing there like I’m going to shoot you.”
“You said you know how.”
She laughed through the tears.
The sound startled them both.
The cowboy smiled.
A real smile this time.
The bride looked down at the deed.
Then walked toward the table.
She set the documents there.
The cowboy watched.
“You should keep them somewhere safe.”
“I am.”
She turned.
Then slowly crossed the room.
His smile disappeared.
She stopped close again.
Not because she had nowhere else to go.
Not because he had bought a ticket.
Not because a marriage contract said anything.
Because she wanted to.
She placed her hand against his chest again.
His heart accelerated immediately.
The bride whispered:
“You really are terrified.”
“A little.”
“Of me?”
“Mostly of getting this wrong.”
She looked at him.
“Then ask.”
The cowboy swallowed.
“Ask what?”
“Anything.”
He considered.
Then:
“Can I touch your face?”
The question nearly undid her.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
His fingers rose.
Very slowly.
He brushed one curl away from her cheek.
Nothing more.
His thumb rested beside her jaw.
The bride closed her eyes.
Not because she needed to disappear.
For once, because she wanted to feel it.
He whispered:
“Is this all right?”
“Yes.”
His breath caught.
She opened her eyes.
“You can kiss me.”
His expression almost made her laugh.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to—”
She grabbed his shirt.
“Cowboy.”
He stopped.
“If you ask me whether I’m sure one more time, I’m going to reconsider out of irritation.”
That finally made him laugh.
Then he kissed her.
Tentative.
Too tentative.
She pulled back.
“That was terrible.”
His face fell.
The bride laughed.
“You’re actually offended.”
“I told you I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Again.”
He stared.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
The second kiss was better.
Still uncertain.
Still careful.
But warmer.
When she leaned closer, his free hand moved toward her waist.
Stopped before touching.
She took it.
Placed it there herself.
“Here.”
His eyes darkened.
Not threatening.
Wanting.
Honest wanting.
The bride whispered:
“You can want me.”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s dangerous advice.”
“No.”
She touched his face.
“It’s only dangerous if you think wanting means owning.”
The cowboy became very still.
There.