Page 28 of The Rancher’s Bride

“Happy.”

“That all?”

“Nervous.”

“About marrying me?”

She looks over. “About everyone staring at us.”

“My family’s seen you before.”

“Not while I’m getting married.”

“They’ll mostly be staring at me,” I assure her.

She snorts. “Of course they will.”

I grin and reach across the bench seat, resting my hand on her thigh. “You sure you want to do this?”

She covers my hand with hers. “Yep. Definitely. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

My answer comes out without hesitation. I’ve been sure for a while. By the end of the thirty days, I wanted her name on everything I owned. The house. The ranch. Me.

Sabrina was the one who wanted to wait. She wasn’t leaving. She made that clear. But she wanted us to have more than thirty days before we made it legal. Wanted to make sure we weren’t confusing good sex, fear, and one near-death experience with a solid marriage.

I thought that was bullshit. Then I thought about it some more and realized she was probably right.

So we spent three more months learning how to live together. Really live together. Not counting down days. Not wondering whether she’d pack those heavy-ass suitcases and catch the next train.

I still say things I shouldn’t. Sometimes something comes out harsher than I meant it. Sometimes I know exactly how harsh it sounds and say it anyway.

But I’m always working on it. I apologize now. Usually without being forced.

I fixed the back door, too. The closet doesn’t stick anymore, and the shower knob turns without a fight.

Sabrina claims that’s proof people can change. I say it’s proof she complained long enough to wear me down.

When we reach the courthouse, my mother’s car is already parked out front. My sister and her family are there, and my brother’s truck pulls in behind us. He drove six hours for this and spent all of yesterday texting me threats about what’ll happen if I change my mind.

I climb out and walk around to Sabrina’s side. She smiles when I open her door.

“Look at you,” she says as she takes my hand.

“What?”

“Opening doors without being reminded.”

“I’m practically a gentleman.”

She steps down from the truck. “Let’s not get carried away.”

She takes my hand, and we start toward the courthouse. After a few steps, I stop.

Sabrina turns. “Did you forget something?”

“No.”