Rogenna Brewer - Marry Me, Marine

“Do the witnesses know of any reason we may not legally continue?”

“We do not,” Ned replied.

“Your Honor—”

“I said legally. Any other reason and I do not want to hear it, Carla. While marriage is never to be entered into lightly, it’s up to this young couple to determine what constitutes their marriage. And up to the rest of us to butt out.”

The woman shut her mouth.

“Clay, repeat after me,” the judge said.

“I do solemnly declare,” he repeated, “that I do not know of any lawful impediment why I, Clayton Henry-Miner, may not be joined in matrimony to Angela Anne Adams.”

“Angela,” the judge prompted.

“I—I do solemnly declare,” she said, stumbling over the unfamiliar words, “that I do not know of any lawful impediment why I, Angela Anne Adams, may not be joined in matrimony to Clayton Henry-Miner.”

“I take it we’re not exchanging rings,” the judge said.

Angela twisted the silver knot on her finger—an inspired gesture on Hatch’s part. Still a horseshoe nail could not be misconstrued as anything other than what it was. A token meant to wish her luck and send her on her way.

They both responded, “No.”

“By the power vested in me by the state of Wyoming—” the judge snapped his Bible shut “—I pronounce you husband and wife.” After a few bold strokes of the mighty pen, they entered into that legally binding marriage contract.

“Just so we’re clear…” She put the pen down after signing in her pretty penmanship. “I’m keeping my own name.”

He’d read her preference on the application. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’.” She gave him her I-asked-you-nicely-not-to-call-me-that look. Next time, she’d probably not be so nice about it. Fine by him. He’d filled his quota of playing nice for the day.

They left the judge’s chambers with her clinging to the marriage certificate she’d driven four hundred miles to obtain. “You hungry?” he asked. “I promised my aunt we’d stop by for dinner.”

“The aunt who thinks I’m pregnant?”

“One and the same.”

“I’m not pregnant,” Angela said to clarify, sparing him a glance as he held the courthouse door for her.

“That’s good to know.”

CHAPTER THREE

HATCH HAD A QUICK STOP to make before heading over to his aunt’s house. He pulled up to a log cabin on the outskirts of town. On the porch a black bear poised to strike wore a rough-hewn wooden sign around its neck with the word Taxidermy burned into it.

After driving around to the garage marked Deliveries, Hatch put the truck into Park. “Wait here. I’ll just be a minute,” he told her.

“Okay.” Her stomach growled a reminder for him not to get sidetracked. He wasn’t sure taking her over to aunt’s for dinner was such a good idea, but he needed to feed Angela before sending her off on her own again. He shut the door with more force than necessary and went in through the garage.

The air inside was heavy with tanning acids and pickling baths. Big and small game mounting forms and kits covered the walls.

Hatch used the connecting door into the workshop.

Will Stewart looked up from painting the finishing touches on a squirrel. “Was wondering if we’d see you tonight.”

“Said I’d try and stop by.” Granted, he didn’t get to town that often and had been vague about the time when he’d spoken with Stew yesterday, but it wasn’t even five o’clock.

“I told Mia she shouldn’t believe everything she hears.” Stew shoved aside the lighted magnifying glass he used for detail work. Wiping his hands on his apron, he got up from the stool. “There’s a rumor going around town that you got married.”

“Is that Hatch?”

Before he could even digest that bit of information about the rumor mill, Mia, with little Alex on her hip, was dragging him into a hug as close as the boy and the baby bump would allow. It was good to see her happy again.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Stepping back, she looked him over as if to confirm it.

“She’s in the truck,” he admitted.

“Dammit!” Stew got out his wallet and handed his wife a dollar bill. “You couldn’t pick up a phone and call your best friend since second grade?” he muttered as he headed for the door. “I’m going to get the trophy head and introduce myself to your trophy wife.”

Stew stopped in the doorway, shaking his head. “Twenty? Seriously, Hatch. Is that even legal? But it’s better than hearing you married a Marine.”

“She’s not a Marine yet,” he qualified. “But we did get married just so she could join.”

“Yeah, right.” Stew was laughing as he left.

“I’d better go run interference,” Hatch said to Mia.

She adjusted little Alex on her hip. “Your wife is in the store.”

THE SHOWROOM WAS PACKED floor to ceiling with wall-mounted and freestanding displays. Slowly, Angela turned to absorb it all. She did a double take when Hatch appeared beneath a moose head mounted above an archway.

A pregnant woman carrying a toddler entered behind him. According to their marriage license application, he’d never been married.

But Angela hadn’t asked him about a significant other.

“Quite the menagerie you have here.” She hoped that hadn’t come across quite as awkward as it sounded.

“Welcome to my world,” the woman said, a smile playing at the corner of her generous mouth as she stepped onto the showroom floor. “I’m Mia Stewart, and this is my son, Alex.”

“Hi, Alex.” Angela zeroed in on the dark-haired, blue-eyed child. “I have a little boy at home about your age.” The tot buried his face in his mother’s shoulder and then turned to peek again at Angela from beneath spiky lashes. He was a heartbreaker, all right.

“You must be the bride we’ve heard talk about.” Mia paused expectantly.

Angela glanced at Hatch. How was she supposed to respond to that? Surely he didn’t want people calling her his bride, when future ex-wife was more appropriate. How much simpler if they’d been able to keep the marriage a secret.

“Angela Adams,” she said, introducing herself to the other woman.

Or as the other woman?

She hoped she wasn’t creating a headache for him.

Chimes rang as a chubby guy in a paint-stained apron entered through the front door. They all pivoted toward him.

“Couldn’t find her—” He spotted Angela and stopped. “Hello.” He turned accusing eyes on Hatch as he approached her.

“Will Stewart,” he said in introduction. “If you’re Hatch’s bride, then why wasn’t I his best man? And how come he never mentioned you?”

Angela really didn’t know how to answer that. Because we just met?

“No, seriously. How come?”

“I’d love to hear the story,” Mia said. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner.” She grabbed the baby monitor from the counter.

Hatch checked his watch. “My aunt’s expecting us.”

“Some other time, then,” Mia offered. “Angela, it was nice meeting you. Hatch has our number. Maybe we can get the boys together for a play date. And by boys I mean the four of them, so we can have time for some girl talk. I know all his secrets, dating back to high school.”

Will pointed at himself. “Second grade,” he bragged in a stage whisper.

“Afraid Angela’s headed back to Denver tonight,” Hatch said. “We’ve got to get going. I’ll be dropping off the meat as soon as it’s cured.”

“You’re not leaving without your eye, are you?” his friend demanded.

“I’ll stop by next week sometime.”

“It’s ready now,” Will insisted. “Won’t take but a minute for me to get it.”

“You sell prosthetic eyes?” Angela studied the animals on display. In particular the glass eyes, which were incredibly realistic. “For humans?”