Page 14 of Sweet Deal (Honeysuckle, Texas #4)

Alice Sweet took a slow, satisfied breath, the scent of wildflowers and freshly mown grass filled her senses.

Clint had truly outdone himself. The simple wooden backdrop he’d constructed under the ancient oak tree at the back of the house was more beautiful than she could have imagined.

As soon as the sun starts its nightly descent, combined with Clint’s handiwork, they’d have the perfect setting for the next Sweet wedding.

Her Rachel was going to be a beautiful bride.

“Clint, it’s just lovely.” She walked to where he stood, hiding the extension cords for the strings of fairy lights woven through the branches. “I don’t know how to thank you. This backdrop is more than I hoped for.”

Clint tipped his hat. “The bones are my doing, but the fabric and lights,” he gestured to the soft ivory material artfully draped around the wooden beams, “this is all Miss Jillian.” He chuckled. “She had strong opinions on how it should hang.”

“I bet she did.” Alice smiled. That sounded exactly like her daughter.

Between Clint’s sturdy craftsmanship and Jillian’s eye for elegance, they’d created a little bit of magic right here in their backyard.

It was perfect for Rachel and Jim. Simple, heartfelt, and surrounded by the land they all loved.

The only thing missing would be Charlie to walk Rachel down the aisle.

Taking a step back, Clint nodded at the final results and once again tipped his hat. “I’ve got things to tend to before the festivities begin.”

“You’ll be finished in time for the ceremony.” It wasn’t really a question. “You’re almost part of the family.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Something she couldn’t quite read flashed in his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

The man who had been a savior to the Sweet family disappeared into the barn and Alice spun around for one more look at the beautiful setting, then glanced up at the lights in the tree.

“Oh, Charlie. You always thought Jim would be the one. How I wish you could be here to see for yourself.” Blowing a soft kiss into the air, she turned and walked back to the house. She had a wedding to dress for.

Had she completely lost her mind? Rachel stood in front of the mirror in the same room she’d slept in for most of her childhood.

The same room that, for the last few days, had been only a few feet from the master bedroom where Jim had been sleeping.

In a simple white mid-length dress, she felt like a bride from the fifties.

Except this wasn’t technically for real.

Technically. She’d be legally wed, and sharing her life—and bed—for one whole year with a man who could make her heart race, and her palms sweat.

She had to be out of her mind. That was the only explanation for going through with this insane plan.

“You look stunningly beautiful.” Her mother stood staring at her with so much love and pride in her eyes that Rachel almost cried at how her mother’s heart would break when one year from now all of this would come to an end.

Trying not to sigh, who was she kidding? Her heart was the one that would break when Jim Henderson once again walked out of her life.

Jillian appeared in the doorway. “Are you two going to stand up here looking at yourselves in the mirror all day, or are we having a wedding?”

Nodding, Alice Sweet took a step in retreat. “I’d better go take my seat. You know your dad is going to be at your side with every step.”

It wasn’t a question really, but Rachel nodded anyway.

As soon as her mother was out the door and down the hall, Jillian met Rachel’s eyes. “You still want to do this?”

Did she? Of course she did. The ranch needed the money. It was her duty. And truthfully, grateful to have him back in her life, she’d take whatever time with Jim she could get. “I do.”

Jillian giggled. “Remember that.”

Outside, the sky lit up in hues of fiery orange and soft lavender as Rachel made her way down the short aisle to stand beside Jim, tucking her hand securely in the crook of his arm.

The simple vows, spoken with a surprising depth of sincerity from the local Justice of the Peace Alice had rustled up, still echoed in her ears.

His ring felt solid, a tangible weight on her finger, a constant reminder of this wild, improbable turn her life had taken.

Under the nearby open-sided tent, tables were laden with smoked brisket, corn bread, creamed corn, and all the other fixings of a proper Texas celebration.

Fairy lights twinkled, mimicking the stars beginning to prick the darkening sky.

The reception was small, just their two families, more of a party than a reception really.

Their parents chatted joyfully, Mason darted between tables, proudly showing off a frog he’d caught, and her brothers, with their wives, seemed to be in a contest of who could tell the most embarrassing childhood story about her or Jim.

The only person missing was Kade. Even though this wasn’t a real wedding, she still wished her eldest brother could be here to give her a hug and remind her to suck it up, buttercup .

Her mother’s voice boomed through the speaker system set up.

“I’d like to propose a toast.” Champagne glasses were raised.

“To Rachel and Jim. What took you so long?” The crowd roared with laughter, forcing Alice to raise her hand to quiet everyone.

“Seriously. May your life together be filled with as much love and laughter as you’ve brought to ours. ”

Glasses clinked and Aunt Vicki, acting as photographer, insisted they link elbows in a traditional sipping photo. Rachel met Jim’s gaze. It all felt so real.

On his feet, Jim’s dad also raised his glass and the crowd fell silent.

“Like Alice and Charlie, your mother and I always thought you and Rachel were meant to be. Honestly,” he turned and winked at his wife, “I’m surprised your mother didn’t drag a preacher to the ranch with your suitcases, just to make sure no one changed their minds. ”

The crowd chuckled in varying ranges of amused laughter.

“Too many years of love and happiness.” Mr. Henderson’s eyes sparkled as he drank to his son and new bride. Just like a real wedding. Rachel didn’t want to think ahead to a year from now.

Next, her aunt ushered them over to the cake—a simple single tiered creation with the same topper that had been on Jim’s parents’ cake.

Jim’s hand felt warm over hers as they made the first cut, the scent of vanilla and buttercream filling the air.

Each breaking off a small piece, she was first to hold the morsel to his lips.

The crowd once again erupting with laughter as she accidentally nipped the tip of his nose with a dollop of icing.

The chuckle rumbling low in Jim’s throat brought a smile to her face.

He swallowed and lifted his piece to her lips. Leaning in, he whispered, “Relax,” kissed the tip of her nose, placed the morsel in her mouth. As she closed her lips to swallow, he leaned in impossibly closer and tenderly kissed her. For something just for show, everything felt incredibly real.

Another hour of chatting, visiting, posing for more photos for her aunt and their moms to gather plates. Instinctively, Rachel rose to help.

“Oh no you don’t, young lady,” Alice gently but firmly shooed her back towards Jim. Jim’s mom echoed the sentiment from across the table. “You are not cleaning up after your own reception.”

“Besides,” her mother glanced over at her sister Liz and gave her a thumbs up, “it’s about time you said your goodnights and go make your own music.”

A blush crept up Rachel’s neck at the not-so-subtle implication.

Jim stood, his hand finding hers, his thumb brushing over her new ring. His gaze met hers and she knew what he was thinking, no postponing the inevitable.

Before she could turn, chairs were kicking back, guests were scurrying about, and within moments, everyone was lined up on either side of the walkway to the house, creating an archway of sparklers for them to walk under.

Hurrying past everyone, they scurried up the steps and into the house.

She didn’t dare look back or she might fall completely apart.

The screen door banged shut behind them, the sudden quiet of the house a stark contrast to the boisterous well wishes still echoing from the yard.

Still holding her hand, Jim glanced over his shoulder. “I may be wrong, but I have a feeling that the party isn’t going to end any time soon.”

She glanced out the window and smiled. “I have a feeling you’re absolutely correct.”

They stood for another few moments in awkward silence. “I suppose we should head upstairs. It wouldn’t look right if anyone came into the house for something and found the two of us watching the party like a couple of kids with their noses pressed against the candy store window.”

“No.” She didn’t let go but inched back half a step. “I don’t suppose it would.”

Falling into step beside each other, they made their way upstairs, their steps slowing as they reached the master bedroom door, Jim tugging her to a stop.

“Is something wrong?” Eyes filled with confusion stared up at him.

“No. Just a little tradition.” Ignoring his still pained ribs, he bent and scooped her into his arms before she could react.

“Jim Henderson, what in the world do you think you’re doing?” she giggled, her arms instinctively going around his neck.

“Carrying my bride over the threshold, of course.” He took the first step. “Even a sort of bride deserves that much, don’t you think?”

The laughter had faded from her eyes, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. He could feel the gentle thud of her heart against his chest.

“You can put me down now.”

“Oh. Right.” Releasing her slowly, as much to protect his sore ribs as to feel her closeness just a moment longer, he carefully inched back before he did something really stupid.

Like take her in his arms and kiss her not for show, but the way she deserved to be kissed.

The way he’d been dying to kiss her since they’d made that foolish deal that wasn’t much of a joke to him.

“So,” Rachel finally spoke, her voice a little breathy as she smoothed down her dress, her gaze fixed on the large bed.

“So,” Jim echoed, suddenly acutely aware of the silence stretching between them.

He glanced around the room—their room now—taking in the small touches that had appeared since he’d left earlier in the day.

Someone had scattered rose petals across the comforter.

A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket on the dresser, two glasses beside it.

“I think we’re being set up,” Rachel laughed nervously, gesturing toward the romantic additions.

“Your family doesn’t do anything halfway, do they?” Jim smiled, hopefully easing some of the tension.

“We should probably change.” Rachel’s voice caught slightly.

“Of course.” Jim nodded. “I’ll just…” he gestured vaguely toward the bathroom, grabbing his pajama pants and t-shirt from where he’d left them folded on a chair earlier.

In the bathroom, Jim changed quickly, splashing cold water on his face and staring at himself in the mirror.

Married. He was married—sort of. The weight of the gold band on his own finger felt surprisingly right.

Taking a deep breath, with no clue what the next year was going to bring, he gave himself a short nod in the mirror and opened the door.

Rachel stood by the open door to the larger walk-in closet. “You didn’t unpack?”

“Actually,” he inched closer, “I took the bathroom closet.”

Her smile bloomed and something in his chest shifted. Nothing seemed as important as seeing her happy.

Jim shrugged, trying to appear casual. “The walk-in made more sense for you.”

Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, perhaps, or gratitude. “Thank you.”

The silence that followed was charged with a different kind of tension than before.

“I’d better change.” She grabbed a pile of clothing from the bed and hurried into the bathroom. A moment later she appeared in a pair of pink sweatpants with a long-sleeved cotton t-shirt with moons and stars in sparkles. Nothing had ever looked better.

“Well.” Sucking in a deep breath, Jim gestured toward the bed. “Should we…”

“Right.” Rachel nodded, hanging her dress and closing the closet door. “Which side do you prefer?”

“I usually sleep on the left, but with these ribs…” he touched his side gingerly, “maybe the right would be better for now.”

“Perfect. I always sleep on the left anyway.”

They approached the bed from opposite sides, each pulling back the covers and carefully removing the rose petals. Jim caught Rachel’s eye as she scooped up a handful, and they both broke into laughter.

“My mother,” Rachel giggled.

“At least there’s no heart made out of towels,” Jim countered, making her laugh harder.

The shared moment eased the awkwardness as they slid under the covers, each staying carefully on their respective sides. Jim reached over and turned off the lamp on his nightstand, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains.

They lay there, not touching, both staring up at the ceiling.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” Rachel finally whispered into the darkness.

“A little,” Jim admitted, turning his head to look at her profile. “But not in a bad way.”

She turned to face him, her features softened by shadows. “No?”

“No,” he said with quiet conviction. “Just… new.”

Another silence fell, more comfortable this time.

“Jim?” Rachel’s voice was barely audible.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for today. For making it feel…” she paused, searching for the right word, “real.”

No way could he tell her that for him everything was becoming very real. “My pleasure, Mrs. Henderson.” His thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles.

“Goodnight, Mr. Sweet.” He felt rather than saw her smile in the darkness.

Jim chuckled. “That’s not how it works.”

“I know,” she said, a teasing note in her voice. “But it got you to laugh.”

Their hands still joined atop the covers, as sleep began to claim him, Jim realized that whatever this arrangement was—real, pretend, or somewhere in between—it felt dangerously close to right.