unison.
Luke Carrigan wrapped a supportive arm about his wife’s waist as she narrowed her gaze at the flustered duo.
“Obviously, that remains to be worked out,” Teddy said, grimacing.
“What happens if this marriage doesn’t pan out?” Annie McCabe asked. She stepped closer to her husband, too. Her hand instinctively curled into Travis’s.
Watching the two older couples lean on each other, the way they always had, made Teddy think, That’s the way marriage should be.
Suddenly, he wondered if he and Amy would ever have that special connection. More important, was friendship going to be enough to sustain them?
Or would having a family—and their mutual affection—transform their platonic union into a real marriage?
Clearly, their parents did not think so.
But just because they had reservations did not mean it couldn’t happen, Teddy rationalized.
Furthermore, it wasn’t as if he and Amy hadn’t tried to find happiness the traditional way.
The problem was, romance just hadn’t worked for either of them. And probably, given their temperaments and expectations, never would.
Hence, they were obtaining a family for themselves the only way they could.
Beside him, Amy clearly agreed. “Teddy and I’ve already stipulated that should either of us decide it’s a mistake and want out—and for the record, neither of us expect that will happen—then we’ll get an annulment.”
“As long as we don’t consummate the marriage, it should be no problem,” Teddy agreed.
“It will be a problem if there is a child involved when you two decide this,” Travis McCabe countered.
Teddy knew how seriously every parent in the room took their responsibility toward their children. Luckily, he and Amy felt the same way.
Teddy took Amy’s hand in his, and held it in much the same way his father was holding his mother’s hand. “If we do want to end the marriage and we have a child—or children—by then, we’ve agreed on split custody. Since we both own businesses here in Laramie, and plan to reside here permanently, that should be an easy-enough thing to arrange. Not,” Teddy added, before anyone could interrupt, “that either Amy or I expect it to come to that.”
Amy’s chin took on the familiar, defiant tilt. “Teddy and I’ve been friends forever and we’re plenty old enough to know exactly what we’re getting into.”
“That,” her father remarked grimly, “is debatable.”
An hour later as Amy and Teddy walked out to his pickup truck, she said, “Well, it’s official. Both our parents think we’ve made a huge mistake.”
Teddy started to head for his own side of the vehicle, then stopped and cut across to Amy’s side.
Ignoring her look of surprise—because this was the kind of thing he did for his girlfriends, not his casual female friends—he opened the passenger door for her.
As his wife, she deserved a lot more from him on every level. Starting now, Teddy decided, she would get it. As well as reassurance when she needed it—which she clearly did.
“Look, Amy. We know we’re doing the right thing.” He gazed at her tenderly, smiling until her face lit up and she smiled back. “We’re going to be great parents. Giving each other a baby is the best Christmas present either of us could ever have.”
Hope flared in her eyes, along with the confusion.
Seeing she still needed a little convincing, he gave her a playful tap on the nose. “Trust me on this,” he told her softly. “Once you’re pregnant, once we’re one step closer to our dream, everyone else will be rooting for us, too.”
Chapter Two
As they drove back to the Laurel Valley Ranch, Amy couldn’t help but notice how good Teddy looked in the black Ultrasuede jacket and discreetly patterned tie, or how the dark olive hue of his dress shirt brought out the green of his eyes.
Whether gussied up—like now—or dirtied up from ranch work, Teddy McCabe was one fine specimen of a man. Add to that his amazing intellect and kind, compassionate nature and Amy knew she had chosen a fine husband for herself and father to her future children.
Now, if only everyone else could see that, too…
“So how do you want to do this?” Teddy asked, parking in front of Amy’s trailer.
One wrist resting atop the steering wheel, he turned toward her. “You want me to wait around while you get your stuff? Or just go on ahead and wait for you at my house?”
Amy blinked at him in surprise, stunned by his matter-of-fact tone. “What are you talking about?”
Teddy flashed a smile and came around to get her door. “Well, obviously, now that we’re married, we have to sleep somewhere—and I figured since I have horses to care for, that we’d be bunking at my place.”
“For tonight,” Amy acceded, accepting his help exiting the cab.
It was his turn to look surprised. “For every night,” he specified, as if wondering why there was even a question. In his mind, it was already decided.
Her heels sank into the gravel drive, making walking difficult. Unease swept through her. She thought about something she’d heard.
People change when they get married.
Until now, she’d figured that was just the frustration talking, when the couple in question didn’t really know each other—or hadn’t allowed themselves to see the real character of the person they were marrying—until after the romance surrounding the wedding ceremony had faded, and reality sunk in.
She could not believe this was going to be the case for her and Teddy, since they had known each other for years and years—without the veil of romance.
She looked over at him and promptly stumbled. “Teddy, I’m not giving up my place.”
He slid a hand beneath her elbow, to steady her. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
Her spike heels did little better in the grass, and she lurched into him again. “You’re asking me to move in with you.”
Teddy frowned and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close to his side. “Because it makes sense,” he said.
She scowled back and used her elbow to wedge more distance. “To you, maybe,” she argued, pulse pounding.
“Come on, Amy.” He paused as they reached the stoop leading up to her front door, his usual accommodating nature fading. “I admit I’ve only been in your trailer once or twice, and then only for a minute or two, but the ceiling is so low I can barely stand up straight.”
He had a point there. Her travel-trailer home had not been made for a six-foot-four
