Page 13 of Sweet Deal (Honeysuckle, Texas #4)

Rachel triple-checked the documents spread across the kitchen table—birth certificate, driver’s license, social security card. “Do you think we need anything else?”

“We’re getting a marriage license, not applying for top-secret clearance,” Jim teased from the doorway, his bruised ribs still evident in the careful way he moved.

Gathering everything into a neat stack and sliding it into a folder, she willed her hands not to betray the nerves whirling about inside her. This was happening. Today. The first formal step toward their arrangement.

“Ready?” Jim dangled his car keys.

“As I’ll ever be,” she tried for lightness in her tone, worried she sounded more like a sailor about to walk the plank.

The drive into town was quiet. Almost too quiet, but she couldn’t find anything to say that wouldn’t betray her nerves. She fidgeted with the edge of the folder. They really were going to do this.

Just as they reached the edge of town, instead of continuing towards the courthouse, Jim made an unexpected turn, pulling into the nearly empty parking area by the park.

Confused, she glanced in his direction and pointed down the street. “Have you forgotten the courthouse is that way?”

“Nope.” He cut the engine and turned to her, a serious yet gentle expression in his blue eyes. “Trust me?”

“Is it too soon to say I do?” She hoped she achieved the teasing tone she aimed for.

Jim smiled at her choice of words, then reached over and squeezed her hand before climbing out of the car. Rachel followed, confusion giving way to curiosity as he led her past the swing sets and picnic tables toward the far corner of the park.

Recognition dawned as they approached the old wooden teeter-totter. A little weathered, a little worn, but still standing after all these years.

“You remember?” Jim watched her face.

She laughed softly. “How could I forget? Eighth grade, Billy Tucker dared you to jump off when I was in the air.”

“And I refused, so he called me chicken.”

“Then I jumped off just to show him I could, and you crashed to the ground so hard you bit your tongue.”

Jim’s hand unconsciously touched his lower lip. “Bled all over my new shirt.”

“And I felt so guilty I brought you pudding cups every day for a week.”

They both laughed at the memory, then Jim gestured toward the old wooden plank. “Shall we?”

“Are you serious? With your ribs?”

“I’ll manage. Carefully.”

Shaking her head at his stubbornness, Rachel positioned herself on one end while Jim gingerly settled on the other, bringing her side up into the air.

They balanced there, feet dangling, like kids playing hooky instead of adults about to get a marriage license.

They teetered up, then down, gently, and when Jim winced at landing a little too hard on his feet, she shook her head.

“That’s enough reminiscing. Let’s get going. ”

Climbing down, instead of going directly to the car, he took hold of her hand and tugged her to a nearby picnic table. He sat down at her side.

“So,” Jim’s voice took on a more serious tone, “I know none of this is… conventional. And I know it’s only temporary.

” He paused, holding her gaze. “But you deserve more than walking into a clerk’s office, getting a license like we’re merely going fishing, and then wearing a cigar band for a wedding ring. ”

Before she could process, his other hand reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, dark velvet box. Her breath caught and her hand floated to her chest.

He didn’t open it immediately, just held it, his gaze locked with hers, holding her other hand firmly. “Rachel Sweet,” his voice came out low and steady despite the vulnerability she saw flicker in his eyes, “will you sort of marry me?”

She just stared, first at the box, then back at his face. Her mind went completely blank.

As he waited, lips pressed into a tense line gave way to a slow easy smile. “Should I get down on one knee?”

The image, the absurdity, the sweetness of it all, broke through her paralysis. A laugh escaped, shaky but genuine. “Don’t you dare. Your ribs have been through enough.” Their gazes locked, and she nodded. “Yes. I’ll sort of marry you.”

Relief washed over his face. He opened the box, revealing a single diamond nestled within a delicate swirl of gold, flanked by tiny sparkling chips. Carefully, he took the ring from the box.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered as he slid it onto her finger. Briefly, she admired how the single stone caught the morning light beautifully. Not too flashy, not too small… just beautiful.

“I could have gotten something bigger, but I didn’t think you’d like that. If you want, we could go shopping, get something… different.”

Shaking her head, she gazed down at the ring, then lifted her eyes to meet his. “No,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion she hadn’t expected. “This is perfect.”

Just a few more days and the woman sitting in the passenger side of the car would be Jim’s sort of wife. The way she clutched the folder that now held the marriage license they’d applied for, he was pretty convinced that Rachel Sweet was feeling the pressure of the moment as much as he was.

“Isn’t that your mother?” Rachel squinted down the driveway at the figure leaving the front porch.

It took him until they got a little closer to confirm. “Wonder what she’s doing here?”

As soon as they came to a stop, Jim hopped out of the car, trotted around the front to catch the door for Rachel, then met his mom by her truck.

Standing at the open driver’s door, her hand across the top, his mother smiled at him.

“I spoke with Alice. Since y’all are in a sure fired hurry to get married, we figured with your ribs, you’d sleep better here on a real bed than on our recliner, so I dropped your stuff off.

” Shifting slightly, she flashed a wide smile and waved in Rachel’s direction.

Jim felt his brows furrow. Was his mother actually for the first time ever in his entire life, suggesting he cohabitate with a female before standing in front of a preacher?

“Alice has plenty of space, and since y’all will be living here for a bit anyhow.” His mom shrugged, stepped forward, kissed him on the cheek then stepped back. “I have to run. If I forgot anything, just give me a jingle and I’ll send someone over with it.”

He had no idea if he was confused, stunned, or sound asleep and dreaming. All he could think was that old joke, here’s your hat what’s your hurry, as someone shoves him, and his hat, out the front door. “Thanks.”

Rachel looked up at him as if he’d sprouted a third eye.

The truck door slammed, the engine roared to life, and with a smile and a wave, his mother was kicking up dust behind her.

“That was a little odd.” Rachel stared after the truck.

“My thoughts as well.” Jim nodded, then, heaving a slow sigh, shrugged and turned. “Let’s see what she brought.”

One foot inside the doorway and it was obvious the place was bustling a bit more than usual. From the second floor, Carson called out something Jim didn’t quite understand, then a second later, Jess could be heard answering something about needing more hangers.

“What the heck?” Rachel headed for the stairs, crossing paths with her mom.

Arms burdened with a bundle of linens, Alice Sweet smiled at them. “Just going to toss these in the washing machine and then I’ll change the sheets on the bed.”

Before anyone could ask, she was through the kitchen and out of earshot.

Jim shrugged again and the two went up the stairs. In the middle of the hall, clothing draped over Jess’s arm and Carson carrying a pile of folded shirts, the two stood, kissing.

“Get a room,” Rachel teased, holding back a laugh.

“That’s what we’re doing.” Carson winked at his wife and held up the shirts, his gaze looking briefly over his sister’s shoulder down the stairs. “Like we agreed. The master is better for you guys.”

“Apparently,” Jess shifted the clothes to both arms, “your mothers agree because Alice has been up here directing the move and dusting after us.”

Carson stood in the doorway of his old room and spoke to Jim. “Your mom left a couple of suitcases in there. I suggest you check with the future misses about how much closet space she’s going to let you have before you start unpacking.”

He’d never been in the Sweet master bedroom. Having grown up nearby and being similar in age to the boys, he’d been upstairs plenty of time, but never in the master. “This feels weird.”

“Which part?” Rachel rolled her eyes skyward and walked into the bedroom.

The mattress was stripped, drawers were open and empty, and the closet didn’t look big enough to hold a fraction of the clothes he’d left behind in California.

Not that he’d need most of his custom wardrobe here in ranch country—those clothes could stay behind in California.

In the corner of the room, his two suitcases sat side by side.

Side by side . His eyes drifted to the bed.

If getting a license to wed wasn’t serious enough, staring at the bed he and Rachel would be sharing in a few days really drove the situation home.

At his side, Rachel stared at the king-size bed, her expression unreadable.

“It’s a nice room.” His hand brushed against hers and she startled as if surprised there was someone else in the house. Not a good sign. The weight of the situation was clearly affecting her.

“Sorry. I guess I’m a little… edgy.”

Considering he knew how he felt, he couldn’t fault her for feeling…edgy. “How much closet space do you need?”

The way she looked at him, a smile barely reaching the corners of her mouth, he knew his effort to ease the tension had worked. At least a little.

“Hey,” smiling widely, he flipped his hands up in the air, “I have an image to maintain.”

Groaning, she gently slugged him in the shoulder. “Men. You can have the big closet. I’ll use the little one in the bathroom.”

“A woman who believes in sharing is a woman after my own heart.”

Now she grinned in earnest, shook her head, and turned away. “I’ll get clean sheets for you.”

Rooted to the carpet, he looked around the room. It was cozy, comfortable, and spacious. The problem, as he saw it, Buckingham Palace wouldn’t be big enough to make sharing with Rachel easy.