The Maverick's Wedding Wager. Joanna Sims
finger for years, if ever. Even a hay ring made her feel boxed in like a trapped wild animal.
Genevieve swayed backward and put her hand on the door to steady her body. She pushed the door open quickly so she could get some air into her lungs. When she stepped out into the wide aisle of the barn, she took in a deep breath, wanting to fill her lungs with as much air as possible to fend off the dizziness that had sprung up out of nowhere. She forced her brain to will her body to get it together and calm down. She was well-known for her nerves of steel when she was off-road racing or vaulting on the back of her horse—why were those nerves failing her now? Perhaps because this was the most serious bet she had ever made in her life—and if she was wrong, and Knox actually showed up, Genevieve knew that she wouldn’t be the one to back down. If she was wrong and he showed up, she would be married by sundown tomorrow.
Genevieve closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds; when she opened them, she had her game face firmly back in place. To Knox, she said in a clipped, no-nonsense tone, “Don’t forget to put that check in the mail, Crawford. I’ve got bills to pay.”
“No need, darlin’,” Knox called out after her with a pleased laugh in his voice that made her shoulders stiffen as she walked away. “I’ll just bring it to you tomorrow.”
* * *
The next morning, thirty minutes before their planned meet time, Knox parked his truck in the crowded lot of the Gold Rush Diner. He spotted Genevieve’s truck, still caked in mud from her off-road shortcut, parked nearby. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, thinking about the moment he would arrive at the diner, not knowing if Genevieve would really show up. It surprised him that the sight of her truck didn’t make him feel nervous in the least. In fact, his stomach had been churning all morning at the thought of her not showing up. Now that he knew she was here, all he felt was relieved. And hungry.
Knox pushed open the door to the diner and nodded his head in greeting to the folks he knew. Rust Creek was a small town; it was typical to run into folks he knew everywhere.
“Find a seat where you can,” the waitress pouring coffee behind the counter called out to him.
Knox had already spotted his target. Genevieve was sitting in a booth in the back of the diner, her long, wavy blond hair freshly washed and cascading over her shoulders. She wasn’t dressed for an elopement, but then again, neither was he. Just like him, Genevieve had on her work clothes—jeans, boots and a T-shirt. No doubt she assumed he was going to back out of the wager, just as he assumed she would. He couldn’t explain it fully, but the moment he spotted her sitting alone in that booth, his spirits lifted and all of the nerves and anxiety he had been feeling slipped away.
“Mornin’.” Knox sat down in the booth bench opposite his fiancée. He took off his hat and placed it on the table. From the pocket of his T-shirt he took out a folded check, unfolded it and slid it across the table.
Genevieve, who seemed to be stiff as a statue, her hands seemingly glued to the sides of her steaming coffee mug, stared at the check for a second before she snatched it off the table and put it in her jeans pocket.
“You’re early.” She stated the obvious in a harsh whisper.
“So are you.”
“Do you really think that it’s a good idea for us to be seen together like this?”
He caught her drift. There were some town gossips in the diner who stared curiously in their direction.
Feeling happy, Knox smiled at her. “May as well start giving them something to talk about.”
“I can feel them staring at us,” his bride-to-be said under her breath.
“They sure are.”
The waitress swung by their table with her order pad and a pen. “What can I get you folks?”
“Are you hungry?” he asked Genevieve.
“No.”
He took the menu out from behind the salt and pepper shakers. “Really? Suddenly I’m famished.” He winked at the pretty, frowning blonde sitting across from him. With a teasing, private smile, he asked, “What do you suggest for a man who’s about to eat his last meal?”
They had decided to take his black decked-out GMC truck for the thirty-minute trip to Kalispell. Was Knox bluffing or was he truly pleased that they were on their way to get married? She had watched the man put away scrambled eggs, bacon, three biscuits with butter and honey, grits and two large glasses of orange juice. She had no idea how he could eat at a time like this! Her stomach felt like a washing machine on a spin cycle; the coffee she had drunk at the diner was just adding to the acid backing up in her throat. She felt miserable while he hummed contentedly behind the wheel.
“You played me pretty good, Knox. I have to admit it.”
For two people who normally had a lot to say to each other, the first half of the ride to Kalispell had been a quiet one.
“How do you figure?”
“You knew I wouldn’t be able to turn down a wager. You knew my weakness and you exploited it.”
“That’s true. I did.”
“That’s a move right out of my own playbook. I don’t like it but I have to respect it,” she admitted grudgingly.
After a moment of silence she added, “I’ve never lost a wager before.” She had her arms crossed in front of her body as she stared out at the pastureland dotted with grazing cows on either side of the highway. “It galls me to lose to a Texan of all things.”
“You didn’t lose,” Knox said with an easy smile turned her way. “I’d call this one a draw.”
“Draws are for losers.”
“That’s not how I see it. We’re both winners, as far as I can tell.”
“The only way I win is if you back out. I can still win. There’s still time.”
He laughed. “I’m not backing out of this wedding wager, Gen. If someone’s gonna back out of this deal, it’s gonna have to be you.”
Genevieve glanced over at Knox’s profile; she took in the strong jawline and the straight nose. Had she finally met her match? Was this cowboy crazy enough to really elope today? Was she so pigheaded that her ego wouldn’t let her back down for a bet? She suspected the answer to her first two questions, but she absolutely knew the answer to the last. Her ego wouldn’t ever let her back down—not when she was racing, not when she was bungee jumping and not even when she was about to elope with one of the Crawford cowboys on a dare.
“Then,” she said with a pensive frown, “I guess we’re really going to get married today.”
“Darlin’, that’s music to my ears.”
“Quit being so darn cheerful,” she snapped at him. “And quit calling me darlin’.”
* * *
Genevieve had hoped for a long line to apply for their marriage license. There was a line, but it seemed to be the swiftest moving line she had ever seen. How did it even make sense that two people could just walk up to a counter and get a license to get married? But that’s what they did. They went to the third floor of the Flathead County Justice Center, showed their driver’s licenses, paid fifty-three dollars and left with a state sanctioned “permission slip” to become husband and wife.
“This is why there’s so much divorce in this country,” Genevieve complained as they stepped out into the sunshine with their marriage license in hand. “They make it too darn easy for just anyone to say I do.”
“Lucky for us.” Knox carefully folded up their marriage license and tucked it into his wallet.
Genevieve