"Marla, I need you to marry me," I blurt out over coffee at the diner in town. I hate that I had nothing to offer her this morning, but since I had to drive her back to her car, the diner was on the way.
"Wwwhat?" she asks, sputtering.
"I need you to be my wife," I reiterate. I have never wanted anything more in my life.
"Need or want?"
"Both. I want all of you forever."
"I don’t even know you, Buck. Oh, shit, but I want to. What do you do for a living? I feel like I should know that," she says, taking another sip of her coffee.
"I am a large animal vet. I start working at the Circle T ranch on Monday," I say.
"Oh my God. That’s my ranch. Well, it’s my dad’s ranch. I am the business manager. He told me he hired a vet but didn’t give me any details."
"That’s me," I say, laughing.
"What a small world," she says.
"So about marrying me?" I ask, standing and holding my hand out to her. She takes it, and we walk out to the sidewalk in front of the diner.
"Judge Hollins does marriage ceremonies," she says when I pull her into my arms.
"I need to make a stop; then we can be on our way," I say. I spotted a jewelry store near the courthouse.
"Sounds good. I’ll call Clare and Bobby Ray. They can be our witnesses. Are we crazy? Is this crazy?" she rambles.
"It might be crazy, but it feels right, doesn’t it?"
"It really does," she says, agreeing with me.
"What are we waiting for then?" I ask, lifting her into the truck.
On the way to the store, we discuss everything. I learn about her brothers and her mom. I tell her that I am an only child, and my adoptive parents live in Texas. That I’ve never met my birth parents, and I have no desire to. My mom and dad are all I need.
Before I know it, we are parked in front of the courthouse, and her friends are standing on the steps waiting for us.
"Well, well, well. If this isn't just the best walk of shame ever," Clare says, and the girls laugh before hugging.
"I know. It’s crazy, but I really want it," Marla says in response.
"Girl, I am so happy for you. Let’s get this show on the road."
Ten minutes later, we are married. A couple of signatures later, we are on the road to her house. We pull up, and her brothers rush over to the truck.
"Marla, you didn’t tuck us in last night," one of them says sadly.
"I’m sorry, Jim. I have some news. I got married this morning. This is my husband, Buck. He’s gonna work here."
"Wow, cool. He looks like a real cowboy," Tim says, and Marla chuckles.
"Hey, dudes. It’s nice to meet you."
"You too," they say.
"What’s this about you getting married, Marla? This doesn’t look like Lester McHale," an older man says, coming out of the house.
"How’d you know, Dad?"
"Judge Hollins called me."
"Of course, he did. Well, it’s true. This is my husband, Buck Buckley."
"Buckley. The vet?"
"Yes, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you," I say, stepping forward to shake his hand. My only question right now is: Who the hell is Lester McHale?
"How’d you two meet?" he asks, ignoring my outstretched hand.
"We met at Roscoe’s last night, dad. Stop being a dick." He chuckles.
"Girl, watch your mouth. What the hell am I supposed to tell McHale?"
"Tell him what he’s actually looking for is a nanny," she says, walking past him into the house, leaving her father and I standing on the porch.
"She reminds me of her mother. Fiery as all get out. Good luck with that," he says, finally shaking my hand.
"Thanks. I think I’ve got it. Who’s Lester McHale?" I finally ask.
"A buddy of mine. He’s got a boatload of kids. His wife just passed away. I told Marla that she was going to marry him. Of course, that wasn’t really gonna happen. You see, Marla put her life on hold for these boys and me. I just lit a fire under her ass."
"Well, thank you for that, sir," I say, chuckling.
"James, please. You’re my new son in law after all," he says.
I follow him into the house and meet the boy’s nanny. We sit down to a big lunch then I help her pack her clothes. We had already decided to live at my house.
"Ready to go?" I ask. She looks at me with unshed tears in her eyes.
"Yes. It’s just hard, knowing I won’t be here for the boys anymore." At that moment, I make the split decision to stay here until I can build us a place on the property. I stop packing. "What are you doing?" she asks.
"Let’s stay here," I say.
"What about your place?"
"We’ll figure something out," I say.