The Cowboy's Sweet Elopement Page 10

  “I am. Is Kurt okay? April said he has a fever?”

  “Can she come and get him? I think he’d like to be home with his mom.”

  “We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Brant ended the call before his mom could ask anything further, and stared at the black screen.

  “He’s okay?” April asked.

  “She’d like us to pick him up.”

  April was already on the move. Last night she’d switched out of the tight dress, opting for a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. To him she looked just as sexy in the loose wear, her hair tousled and her body soft from sleep.

  “Want me to make coffee?” Brant asked. He’d ditched his socks in the night, and now he walked around the bed, looking for them on the floor.

  “If your mom called, I should go now.”

  “I can drive you.”

  “I’ve got it. You don’t have to.”

  “I want to,” he said. “Anyway, your car’s still at the Watering Hole.”

  April’s eyes met his for a moment, and they stared at each other across the bed. Brant could see the doubts, the worries in his wife’s eyes. All their arguments about why they should elope seemed less convincing in the light of day.

  “We can discuss things later,” Brant said. “We should get Kurt, but maybe stop at the diner and grab a quick coffee to go. I have a feeling we might not get a break for at least an hour or two, and the extra minute it takes to zip in will be worth it.”

  April nodded and headed for the bedroom door.

  “Hey,” he said, snagging her hand and pulling her to a halt. He watched her for a second before gently tipping her chin upward for a good-morning kiss and a reminder of all the reasons they’d said “I do.”

  April followed Brant, her husband, out of her home, then locked the door behind them. She’d agreed to his plan to pop into the diner for a quick coffee and breakfast sandwich to go, as she didn’t want to count on him helping out with Kurt so she could refuel herself. It was one thing for him to marry her in Mr. Lovely’s chapel at midnight, and quite another to expect him to tend to her sick son bright and early the next morning.

  As they drove the few short blocks to the Longhorn Diner, the logistics of having a husband ran through April’s mind. Was Brant going to move in with her and Kurt? So far her son had been adjusting well to living apart from Heath, who had often been out on the road, working, before their separation. But she knew her ex’s broken promises impacted him. Having Brant step in as a more permanent father figure so quickly might make things worse for Kurt and Heath’s relationship. And Kurt might even reject Brant—even though he’d been referring to him as Daddy Brant.

  Last night, marriage had felt like such a straightforward solution, but this morning it felt full of expectations and traditions their relationship wasn’t ready for.

  “Maybe we can wait to tell Kurt once he’s feeling better,” she suggested.

  “There are a few things we didn’t think through, aren’t there?” Brant said mildly as he maneuvered his truck into a parking spot in front of the diner.

  April couldn’t help but laugh. It was so ridiculous. In some ways she hadn’t changed. She’d jumped in with both feet, and even though the whole arrangement was fraught with difficulties, it still felt nothing but right.

  “If I’m going to elope with anyone, I’m glad it was you,” she said, opening her door and sliding off the seat, her boots hitting the asphalt.

  “Hey.”

  April turned to Brant. He was still in the driver’s seat, his arm draped over the steering wheel. “Is all of this a secret until we figure out a game plan?”

  She hesitated a second, quickly considering their options, then gave a quick nod. “Probably for the best.”

  “Okay.” He removed his keys and climbed out, holding the door open for her once they reached the diner. The Christmas decorations were still up, and as per Sweetheart Creek tradition, the place was packed.

  April began beelining it to the back, hoping Mrs. Fisher already had breakfast sandwiches ready to go, as she often did the morning of New Year’s Day.

  Brant took a large step to catch up with her, putting them shoulder to shoulder as they walked the aisle between the booths to their right and the checkered-cloth-covered tables to their left. People began applauding and smiling.

  April turned to look behind them, then at Brant. He shared her confusion with a shrug. Someone clinked a fork against a water glass, and the room quickly echoed with the sound.

  April’s heart nearly stopped. It was the glass-clinking from weddings, when the guests wanted the newlyweds to kiss.

  “What’s going on?” April asked, her voice strangled.

  “The good news is out!” Mrs. Fisher said merrily, embracing her in a hug that smelled of bacon and hairspray.

  “What?” April shot Brant a look of alarm and his face paled.

  “You’re Mr. Lovely’s couple of the year!” Mrs. Fisher clasped her hands in front of her dazzling pink Western blouse. “I just knew it would be you two. You’re in the paper’s online edition already. We were wondering when you’d surface.” She winked and nudged April. “A little earlier than I’d predicted.”

  April had forgotten about the paper. Old Man Lovely would have sent their names and photo in first thing this morning, or even last night. The news would be all over town already, as the online edition was one of the first things most people—including herself—checked on New Year’s Day. She’d been tickled when the paper went online, as it meant she could get the Couple of the Year news without having to get out of her bathrobe. At the moment, though, she wasn’t quite so pleased with the speed of progress in Sweetheart Creek.

  “I’m sorry we can’t stop and talk about it. We’re in a bit of a hurry,” Brant said, guiding Mrs. Fisher toward the back counter. He smiled and nodded to people as they moved through the room.

  “Are you now?” Mrs. Fisher teased.

  “Elopements are bad, bad news,” grumbled Uncle Henry from his spot at the counter. His white hair was sticking up at the back as if he’d forgotten to brush it that morning. “You’d think you would’ve learned from Ryan’s mistake.”

  “Henry,” Garfield Goodwin said in a hushed voice, his gaze darting to Brant and April, “April’s in the family way.” Eyeing her midriff with a kind smile, he asked, “Aren’t you, dear?”

  “No.” April couldn’t stop shaking her head. “I’m not. We didn’t. I didn’t. We’re not. No.” She took a breath, hoping to form a rational reply that sounded less guilty.

  “It’s all right now.” Garfield reached out and patted her hand. “We all saw you two whispering around town whenever Heath was away last fall.”

  “Brant was helping me get situated so I could leave my marriage.”

  “We know, dear.” Garfield’s smile was kind, his unwillingness to bend his thinking as strong as the steel beams holding up the town’s several-ton water tower.

  April cringed. By eloping, they’d inadvertently reinforced everyone’s worst assumptions about her and Brant. How had she not considered that possibility last night?

  She looked to Brant for help, but his mouth was tucked into a tight frown and his hands were flexing open and closed. He cleared his throat and leaned over the counter, his attention directed at Mrs. Fisher, who was clearly enjoying the gossip. “My mom called. Kurt has a fever, and we’re heading over to pick him up, but we need two coffees to go.”

  “And a breakfast sandwich,” April added. She glanced at Brant. “Make it two, please.”

  Mrs. Fisher’s expression turned sympathetic. “I hope he’s okay. Poor boy. Didn’t he have a fever last month, too?” She poured two cups of coffee and put on plastic lids.

  “A spoonful of cod liver oil will do him up right,” Garfield advised.

  “Boys don’t play in the dirt enough these days,” Uncle Henry added.

  Mrs. Fisher put the cups in a tray and slid it across the counter. “On the house. For our town’s
couple of the year.” With a wink, she passed two wrapped sandwiches that had been waiting under the heating lamp April’s way.

  April scooped up the food while Brant took the tray. They turned, April’s focus on the door. Everyone in the diner seemed to be smiling at them, while whispers swirled across the tables.

  The clinking started up again.

  “We’d better go with this,” Brant muttered. He turned, putting the coffees back on the counter. He flashed the room a bright smile, then wrapped an arm around April’s waist, bending her to him as he landed his hot lips on hers.

  Her body relaxed, and she gripped his coat collar for support, the breakfast sandwiches long forgotten. Everyone in the diner whooped and cheered as Brant released her. He held their linked hands in the air, grabbed the coffees and pulled her toward the door.

  “There goes our secret,” Brant said as they climbed into his truck. “I forgot how fast Old Man Lovely is with getting the news out.”

  “He is fast,” April agreed, thumbing open the lid of her coffee cup. She was staring out the windshield, her expression blank, the breakfast sandwiches sitting untouched on the seat between them. They looked deformed, as if she’d squeezed them at some point.

  Brant glanced at his wife again, seeking clues. “Do you still want to keep it quiet with Kurt for a bit?” he asked gently.

  She nodded.

  A few minutes later Brant turned down the Sweet Meadows Ranch driveway, his scalding coffee already half consumed due to his on-call-veterinarian habit of trying to get it in him while it was still hot.

  He tried to convince himself he regretted last night’s spontaneous actions, but couldn’t manage to. His only regrets were the difficulties their quick marriage were likely to give April.

  Brant parked in front of the ranch house, and they both got out and headed up the steps, knowing Maria would have opted to settle Kurt there while she cooked breakfast for the family.

  The door opened before Brant could turn the knob.

  His mom stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

  “What do you two think you’re up to?” She glanced over her shoulder, no doubt on the lookout for Kurt. She stepped onto the porch, carefully closing the door behind her. “Old Man Lovely?”

  The hurt in her expression was clear, and Brant felt a flush of shame. “We were trying to stop the rumors.” He winced at the feeble excuse.

  “More like trying to start some.”

  “It’s not Brant’s fault,” April blurted.

  “Yes, it is.” He turned to her. There was no way she was shouldering the blame.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I wanted to marry you, and I did,” he said firmly.

  April’s cheeks sucked in as she inhaled, and she gave him the most grateful look he’d ever seen.

  Brant turned his attention back to Maria. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know you would have preferred something more traditional.”

  Her hands were still on her hips, the chilly January morning not seeming to affect her despite her lack of a sweater. “First, I hear you boys are fighting with Heath at the Watering Hole. Then this? This is not how I raised you, Brant Boaz Wylder.”

  April’s voice was remorseful as she spoke. “It was my fault, Mrs. Wylder. I have a history of making bad judgment calls.”

  Brant felt the words hit him hard in the chest, and he dropped his eyes after catching his mom’s pointed glance. Maria sighed heavily, rocked back on her heels, then shook her head as she drew them into the house. “You two had better come in and figure out how you’re going to tell Kurt you got married last night.”

  “You got married!” Kurt exclaimed in delight. His face was pale, and he was a bit wobbly as he came running to Brant, before throwing himself into his arms.

  “What are you doing up?” Maria scolded.

  As Brant caught the boy, his worries dropped off him like water off a duck. He gave Kurt a big hug, then stood up with him in his arms. A tear trickled down April’s cheek, and she and Brant shared a watery smile over Kurt’s shoulder.

  This moment—this feeling among the three of them—was worth it all.

  “We did, but…” Brant glanced at April, letting her know she should take the lead on how to frame their spontaneous decision.

  Kurt’s arms wound tight around Brant’s neck. “I made a wish last night on a shooting star. Gramps Carmichael told me not to tell anyone because it might not come true. But it did. And now I can tell everyone that you’re my daddy.”

  Brant’s heart swelled, and he didn’t dare look at either woman to catch their expressions. He wanted to preserve this sweet moment just the way it was. No doubts or unspoken worries. Just a boy’s happiness, love and overwhelming acceptance.

  “Well then,” Maria said, after clearing her throat. “You had best get this boy home and to bed. Although good luck keeping him there.”

  She couldn’t seem to hide her growing smile, and the tension in Brant’s chest eased.

  As Maria filled April in on the details of Kurt’s fever, Brant held him in his arms. The child was warm, and he wrapped him in a blanket from the living room so he wouldn’t get a chill while they walked from the house to the truck. As he tucked him closer, Brant smiled. He was happy. He was married. Therefore, he must be a happily married man.

  Cole shuffled into the room, sleepy-eyed. “What’s up?” His gaze moving first to April, then to Brant and Kurt. “I thought you guys weren’t coming until noon to share the joy of Mom taking us each by the ear and scolding us for last night’s fight.”

  “Thanks, by the way,” Brant said quietly, letting his brother know he appreciated the interference he’d provided, so he and April could escape from the scene.

  Cole held eye contact and nodded wordlessly.

  “Kurt has a fever.” April picked up her son’s overnight bag and headed for the door.

  “Brant’s my new daddy,” Kurt said happily, still snuggled in his arms. Brant felt his chest expand and a protective strength grow within him.

  “That’s nice,” Cole said mildly. “Hope you feel better soon, little buddy.”

  “No, Uncle Cole. Brant’s my daddy,” Kurt said, insisting impatiently when Cole didn’t acknowledge the change in status. “I made a wish with Gramps, and they got married.”

  Cole’s eyes widened, and he shed the grogginess of sleep as he pivoted to stare at Brant and April. “Old Man Lovely?” His tone held both awe and disbelief.

  Brant gave a small nod. Cole continued to gape for a moment, and then his mouth twitched as though he was fighting a smile. “You moving out?” he asked, controlling his grin. “‘Cause I kind of like your room, and I feel guilty taking it from you. I know you don’t care for Carmichael’s crappy spare bed.”

  “We’ll keep you in the loop,” Brant said, nodding to April, who opened the door. “Happy New Year.”

  As Brant shut the door behind them, he heard Cole say to their mom, “Let’s hope their elopement turns out better than Ryan’s did.”

  After Brant settled Kurt on the couch in front of the television in the living room, April tucked a blanket around him and poured him some ginger ale, surprised at how insistent Kurt was that Brant tend to him. She sipped the last of her diner coffee in the kitchen doorway and watched as Brant cared for her son.

  “I’ll watch cartoons now, Daddy Brant.” Kurt waved him away, and with conflicting emotions April let the new name sink in. When he looked up at her from his spot by the couch, his eyes were as blue as she’d ever seen them. He was in his stocking feet, no boots, no hat. Having him knelt beside her son, still rumpled from sleeping in his clothes, handsome and unshaven, she was struck by how intimate and domestic the moment felt, as if Brant belonged here, in her home—his home.

  He slowly rose to his feet and walked over to where she stood in the kitchen doorway.

  “He’s happy,” April said, swallowing a lump of emotion as she gestured to Kurt.

  “He is,” Brant agreed.

>   Tension built between them from words unspoken, and she headed for the coffeemaker, dropping her empty takeout cup in the trash on the way by. The breakfast sandwich was long gone, and after such a short sleep last night, she needed more caffeine to help her sort through everything running through her mind and heart.

  Kurt was happy. Brant seemed to be, too, despite his attempts to appear casual. If she gave herself long enough to think about it, she’d admit she was happy, as well.

  She was scared, though. Marriage meant a lot more than liking each other and kissing with passion. They hadn’t even been on an official date, or said they loved one another.

  Kurt, however, was all over the idea. Would she be putting Brant’s name down in one of the parent boxes when she registered her son for school next fall? Or was last night’s spontaneous move going to wind up breaking Kurt’s heart and creating attachment issues?

  “So?” April leaned her hip against the counter. She crossed her arms. “How are we going to manage this? It’s not a secret any longer. Everyone knows, except maybe Wade Ross, and that’s only because he’s probably still passed out in a ditch on his tractor unless Myles rescued him.” She paused for a breath. “What are you looking for in our relationship?”

  Brant considered her question, his attention on his thumbnail.

  “Well?” April snapped. “Say something.”

  “I don’t regret getting married.” He met her eyes, his own steady and calm. “Do you?”

  She inhaled with a hiss. The rumors they’d faced in the diner seemed to buffet her like a strong wind. She couldn’t think about how she felt right now. Everything was so fresh and uncertain, and she feared doing damage to Kurt or Brant with last night’s spur-of-the-moment decision.

  “I don’t regret it, but we sure didn’t improve the things being said about us.” She turned, wiped the counter around the coffeemaker, then retrieved two ceramic mugs from the cupboard above and set them out.