Grayson's Vow(34)

"Ready?" he asked.

No, no, no. "Yes."

I walked through the next hour as if I were just outside my own body. I tried not to consider the reality of the situation. I pictured the faces of the people at the drop-in center, the small house I'd get settled in once I left Hawthorn Vineyard, anything to keep my focus on what this day was ultimately about. We obtained the marriage license and waited in line to say our vows. Grayson's expression was distant, slightly cold—The Dragon was gone and The Ice Prince was back. I didn't ask what he was thinking, though. My own emotions were difficult enough to manage, so I really didn't need to add his to the mix. He'd be no support to me—he wasn't even trying to make this easier. Although, really, what did I expect him to do? The lightness of the moment when we had been running in the rain was long gone, replaced now by silence and discomfort. Finally, a court employee stood in as our witness, and I recited my vows and promised to love, honor, and cherish Grayson Hawthorn all the days of my life. I felt a snake of fear slither down my spine as I committed the sacrilege of pledging love and devotion to a man I had no intention of loving or devoting myself to. It was a lie, a farce of something sacred. I'd never been a particularly religious person, but I had to wonder if we'd both be punished somehow for this mockery.

He recited his vows to me, his voice steady, his manner removed. I watched him, my chest aching at the serious expression on his handsome face. When the marriage commissioner asked if we had rings to exchange, Grayson reached into his pocket and brought out a beautiful gold ring with an opal in the center surrounded by diamonds. I gasped as he slid it on my finger. I tried to catch his eye, but he looked at it for several seconds on my hand and then raised his eyes to the man performing our ceremony. I stared down at the beautiful antique-looking piece of jewelry, a lump forming in my throat for his thoughtfulness at remembering to bring a ring. I hadn't even thought of it myself.

"You may kiss your bride."

Grayson leaned forward and gave me a quick peck on my mouth. At the feel of his dry lips brushing across mine, the hysteria I'd kept at bay since I'd woken that morning suddenly bubbled up my chest, and I snorted out a barely contained laugh. I pretended a small cough, my eyes widening at my body's betrayal. His kiss reminded me of one my old, crotchety Uncle Colburn would give. Uncle Colburn smelled like mothballs. Hilarity and insanity warred inside for control. I let out another small snort and tried to cover it with another cough.

Grayson's eyebrows shot up and then his eyes narrowed, growing almost lazy as he stared me down, something tense and challenging in his expression as if he thought I had laughed solely to mock him. I swallowed, very suddenly serious. What had come over me? The stress of this had clearly cracked my brain right in half. Of course he should kiss me like a dried-up old uncle. This was a business deal.

Grayson stepped right into my space and took my face in his hands as I chirped out what sounded like a surprised little cheep. He pressed his lips to mine, sweeping his tongue over the seam of my mouth. I had no time to think and my body responded to him instinctually, as I parted my lips eagerly to take his tongue, melting against him. The kiss showed no mercy, his tongue plundering my mouth and making my knees weak as I clung to his shoulders. Just as suddenly as he'd initiated it, he pulled away, our mouths coming apart with a wet pop as I stumbled forward, catching myself before I fell into him.

The marriage commissioner grinned. "Well now!"

Well now, indeed.

I tried to regain my composure, using my thumb to wipe the saliva from below my bottom lip, as the final words were said. "By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

And it was done. We were officially Mr. and Mrs. Grayson Hawthorn. Forever and ever. Amen.

Or at least for the next year or so. Which probably didn't deserve an amen.

I walked with Grayson back to his truck on legs that felt strangely numb, still reeling slightly from his kiss, feeling a measure of humiliation. Still, he had done something thoughtful. "Thank you for remembering a ring," I said softly. "I didn't even think to get one for you. Where did you get this on such short notice?"

"It was still in the house. I just hadn't gotten around to selling it." I looked down at it, figuring he had the tight look on his face because it had been a piece of his stepmother's jewelry. Well, it would serve to make our union   look legitimate to the outside world, so what did I care where it'd come from? "I'll give it back when, um—"

"Okay," was his terse reply.

"Okay," I said, deciding not to mention the kiss at all, or the fact that I'd laughed at his first one. Now that my mind was clearer, I realized he'd likely done it for no other reason than to make our ceremony look convincing. After a moment of silence, I asked, "So, do you want to, um, go to a late lunch or something?" I had no idea of the protocol for this day.