the clause and consummate the union before the end of the specified four weeks.
“Congratulations to both of you,” Blake Hartwell said, brushing Eli aside to hug her.
On the hour’s drive from the airport to his attorney’s office in Eagle Fork to sign the prenuptial agreement, Eli had explained that the wedding ceremony would take place at Blake’s grandmother’s house as soon as the document was signed. Eli and Blake had been best friends since they met in grade school. He and his grandmother, Jean Hartwell, would be their witnesses to the marriage.
As Blake wrapped her in a bear hug, she realized he was every bit as tall and muscular as her new husband. She briefly wondered if all the men in Wyoming were as large and intimidating as the two she had met thus far.
“Thank you,” Victoria murmured as he turned her loose to shake Eli’s hand.
Everything was happening so fast she felt overwhelmed by it all. Her first trip to Wyoming, the wedding and the fact that with a few quietly spoken words she had once again changed her surname were almost more than she could take in. It was surreal to think that in a little less than four months she had gone from being Victoria Bardwell to being Victoria Anderson and now Victoria Laughlin.
“Thanks for your help,” Eli said as she abandoned her disturbing thoughts in favor of watching the exchange between him and his friend. “I appreciate you and Grandma Jean standing up with us on such short notice.”
“Glad to do it,” Blake said, grinning.
“I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. It’s not every day one of my boys gets hitched,” Jean Hartwell said. Shouldering her grandson out of the way, she hugged Eli. “You treat this little girl right, you hear?” Turning to Victoria, she grinned. “You got a real good boy here. But if he does give you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll straighten him out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“I’ll remember that, Mrs. Hartwell,” Victoria said, smiling. She wondered what the Hartwells thought of her and Eli’s unorthodox marriage, but if they had any objections they kept their opinions to themselves. They had shown her nothing but kindness and made her feel as if their wedding was like any other marriage ceremony witnessed by close friends.
“You’re married to one of my boys now,” the woman said, kissing Victoria’s cheek. “Call me Grandma Jean.” Turning to the minister, she asked, “Would you like to join us for some refreshments, Preacher?”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay, Jean,” the man said, smiling as he walked toward the front door. “I have to drive down to the hospital in Cheyenne to see a member of the congregation who came down with pneumonia.”
After seeing Reverend Watkins out, Blake’s grandmother motioned for them to follow her. “I’ve got a wedding cake and some of my best elderberry wine waiting for you two in the dining room. I know you’ll want to get on the road before too long, so we’d better get to celebrating.”
Eli watched his new wife follow Grandma Jean out of the room and wondered what the hell he had been thinking when he chose Victoria Anderson to be his wife. She wasn’t anything like the woman he had been looking for when he placed his advertisement on the Hitching Post website. He had been looking for a woman who could help out with ranch work and eventually bear him a son to carry on the legacy of the Rusty Spur Ranch. But he would bet his next breath that his new wife had never worked a day in her life, much less on a ranch.
“You’re the only son of a gun I know who could fall in a pile of manure and come out smelling like a rose.” Blake’s tone was low and quiet and Eli assumed his friend didn’t want the women to hear him.
“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.
“When you posted your ad on that rancher’s dating website, you made it sound more like you were looking for a female hired hand instead of a wife,” Blake said, laughing. “I wouldn’t have given you a plugged nickel for your chances of finding any woman to take you up on an offer that sounded about as romantic as a trip to the dentist. But I’ll be damned if you didn’t end up with the prom queen!”
As his friend slapped him on the back and followed the women into the dining room, Eli had to admit that in the looks department, he had hit a home run when he chose Victoria. Her long, golden-brown hair complemented her lightly tanned complexion, and she had the most expressive violet eyes he had ever seen.
Unfortunately, beauty hadn’t been one of his criteria for a suitable wife. He had wanted a woman who understood the daily operation of a ranch the size of the Rusty Spur and could pitch in to help if the need arose. And she had assured him she had the experience he had been looking for. But one look at his new wife’s designer clothes and her delicate, perfectly manicured hands signing the marriage license, and he had known for certain that her claim to be knowledgeable of any kind of farm or ranch work was a total myth.
He had suspected as much the first time he called to interview her, but he chose her anyway over several other, more qualified respondents for one simple reason. Her soft Southern drawl caused his pulse to race. In hindsight, he probably should have been thinking with his head and not his hormones. But at the time, he had reasoned that if they were eventually going to have a child together it probably wouldn’t hurt to find his wife desirable. What he hadn’t anticipated was his reaction when he saw her for the first time.
He had always thought that having a woman rob a man of breath was just a line in a song or a novel. But that was the only way to describe what had happened to him when she stepped off the plane in Cheyenne. At first sight, he’d sucked in a sharp breath and he wasn’t sure he had released it even yet.
“Eli Laughlin, stop standing there like a moon-eyed calf and get in here to help your bride cut the wedding cake,” Grandma Jean said from the doorway of the dining room.
Grateful for a diversion from his disturbing thoughts, Eli smiled at the woman who was grandmother to all of her grandson’s friends. “Yes, ma’am. On my way.”
When he entered the room, Victoria was standing behind a three-tiered cake sitting on one end of the dining table. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
Walking over to stand beside her, he tried to give her a reassuring smile. “Are you doing all right?”
She nodded. “It was very sweet of Mrs. Hartwell to go to all this trouble. I didn’t expect a cake….” Pausing, she looked directly at him and laughed. “To tell you the truth, I really don’t know what I expected.”
Her nervous laughter and the vulnerability she couldn’t quite hide caused an unexpected emotion to spread throughout his chest. For reasons he couldn’t even begin to understand, Victoria Anderson-Laughlin brought out a protectiveness in him that Eli hadn’t even known he possessed.
He told himself that it was because she was pretty, petite and delicately feminine—the type of woman who made a man feel like a man. But the fact was she was his wife and she carried his name now. For some reason that upped the ante. It was his job to protect her and it came as no small surprise how quickly the feeling had settled over him.
Eli took a deep breath. He must be losing it. Hell, they hadn’t been married more than ten minutes and he was already thinking like a husband?
Emotions like that were something he had tried to avoid and approaching their marriage as a business deal, he thought he had done that. Apparently, he had underestimated the sense of responsibility that
