Oops...We're Married?. Susan Lute
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“What’s up?” Dillon pulled a chair out for Eleanor to sit next to Ryan.
“I just got the orders I’ve been waiting for on a case I was assigned last week. I have just enough time to pack a bag and turn my house keys over to a friend I’m subletting to.”
“You’re subletting your house? To whom?” Dillon watched Ryan climb down from his chair to stand close to Eleanor’s shoulder as he seriously studied her. He was afraid to guess what was going through his son’s agile mind.
“Remember my buddy who just got married? Well, the closing on their house got delayed and their lease ran out, so he and the new wife are going to stay at my place until the deal on their house closes.”
Dillon knew better, but he asked, anyway. “Where are you going?”
Jake only shrugged his shoulders and smiled his most secret grin, not about to give anything away.
“You’re my new mom, aren’t you?”
Dillon glanced quickly at his son and groaned. Once the little guy got something stuck in his mind, it was so hard to convince him otherwise.
“Son, remember this is only make-believe. Eleanor and I didn’t really get married tonight—”
Suddenly spitting into his napkin, the fake judge jumped up from his seat. “What do you mean you’re not married? Of course you’re married. I just married you in front of God and witnesses.”
Dillon laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
Stunned, Dillon looked from the old guy to his excited son, then noticed the horrified look on Eleanor’s frozen features.
“No. This can’t be real,” she whispered, one elegant hand going to the frantically beating pulse at her throat.
Unable to believe what he was hearing, Dillon looked at Jake, suspicion starting to crawl up his spine as a delighted smile spread across his friend’s face.
“Yes, ma’am. I married ya. As a duly appointed judge in the State of Oregon, I’ve been marrying folks for nigh on forty years. Can’t think why it wouldn’t be legal now. You young folks signed the license, all right. We had witnesses. And I signed, too. That’s how it’s done.” Pulling his spectacles from his nose, the old gent squinted while he gingerly wiped the glasses with a snowy-white hankie he pulled from his breast pocket.
Legally married to Eleanor Rose? But she’s not even on my list…. She’s not what I’m looking for, was all Dillon could think. Freezing mid-thought, he glared at his good buddy.
Barely suppressing a desire to punch him in the shoulder the way she did when they were kids and he’d gotten her into one more mess, Eleanor hissed at Jake. “You did this.”
“No, I didn’t. I swear it. I wish I had.” Jake backed away, holding his hands up, palms toward her in surrender, his voice filled with as much surprise as she felt. “I admit, I did work to get you both here, but even I wouldn’t have the guts to deliberately plan a secret marriage between the two of you.”
“Then how did this happen?” Eleanor fired back at her foster brother, horrified to find tears gathering behind her eyes before the thought of murdering Jake rescued her.
“Maybe Cupid had something to do with it,” Jake offered, his expression suddenly soft with caring, before changing to pleased approval as he continued his retreat, his hands still lifted in total surrender.
Cupid? Did the brat have any brain cells left at all?
“Jake Solomon, don’t you dare leave now. You have to fix this. I can’t be married to him.” Eleanor watched her foster brother’s expression change to naughty-boy mischief, and her heart sank.
“I can’t stay, El. I’ve got an assignment. I have to leave. I’m sorry. I can’t fix this for you. Dillon will have to take care of everything. But if you want to know my opinion, I think this is the best thing to ever happen. I only wish I could claim responsibility, so I could take the credit and hold it over your heads for the rest of your lives.”
With a quick wave, a deep chuckle of delight and the parting words, “Dillon, take care of El for me, she’s very special,” Jake was gone, leaving Eleanor feeling very frustrated and suddenly more alone than ever.
Eleanor turned slowly, her mind working at top speed for a way out of the bizarre predicament Jake had left her in. Dillon and Ryan waited behind her; Dillon warily, Ryan not containing his wild excitement.
“Where’s that judge? We have to talk to him, get him to undo this, make us unmarried or something.” Eleanor couldn’t stop the panic that edged her babbling.
“He’s gone,” Dillon said. “Couldn’t stop him. Said he had another wedding to perform.” Still feeling as if his wits had been scrambled, he clutched their wedding license in one hand and Ryan’s hand in the other. “And, by the looks of this paper, unless I can find a loophole, I’d say we are legally married.”
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