Page 36 of The Mountain Man's Fake Christmas Bride
"We've only been together for two weeks."
"Technically, but we've known each other since you were thirteen and followed Ridge and me around with your fish notebook." I open her palm and place the ring in it. "But we've fallen in love in a week. And I know that's not long by conventional standards, but when have either of us been conventional?"
She stares at the ring, then at me, tears forming in her eyes. "You're serious."
"Completely." I cup her face in my hands. "I love you, Jennifer Walsh. I want to build a life with you. Here, in this cabin, or anywhere else you want to go. I want mornings with your grumpy pre-coffee self and evenings by the fire. I want your art supplies scattered across my desk and your clothes mixed with mine. I want arguments and makeups and everything in between."
A tear slips down her cheek. "That sounds a lot like marriage."
"It does, doesn't it?" I brush the tear away with my thumb. "So what do you say? Want to marry me for real? Not for Aunt Mildred or Beverly or anyone else. Just for us."
She looks at the ring in her palm, then closes her fingers around it. For a moment, my heart stops, fearing her answer.
Then she launches herself at me, arms around my neck, lips finding mine in a kiss that leaves no doubt about her response.
"Is that a yes?" I ask against her mouth.
"Yes." She laughs through her tears. "Yes, you ridiculous man. I will marry you for real."
I lift her, spinning her around in the small workshop, her laughter the sweetest sound I've ever heard.
"Tonight?" I ask when I set her down. "Christmas Eve? We have a minister coming anyway for the fake ceremony."
"You want to get married tonight? For real?" Her eyes widen. "What about a license?"
"Already taken care of." At her questioning look, I explain, "I may have had Chloe pick one up from the courthouse yesterday. Just in case."
"Just in case," she repeats, shaking her head in amazement. "You were planning this already."
"Hoping," I correct. "Planning implies more confidence than I actually had."
She opens her palm, looking at the ring again. "It's beautiful."
"It was my mother's." I take it from her, sliding it onto her finger. A perfect fit, as if it was always meant to be there. "She would have loved you."
"Because I'm marrying her son?"
"Because you brought him back to life."
Her smile is radiant, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love you, Jared Calloway."
"I love you too, Jennifer Walsh." I pull her close again. "Soon to be Calloway."
"Jennifer Calloway." She tests the name. "I like the sound of that."
"Me too."
We seal the promise with a kiss, standing amid sawdust and tools, planning a wedding that's no longer pretend but the start of something real and lasting and true.
Hours later, as we make last-minute preparations for what was supposed to be our fake vow renewal, Jennifer grabs her phone.
"I need to call Ridge," she says firmly. "We can't get married for real without my family here."
I nod. "You're right. Call him and Stella. I'll call Colt and Jax."
An hour later, our quiet cabin is transformed by the arrival of our hastily assembled wedding guests. Ridge arrives first with Stella and little Chellie, who's clutching a handful of pinecones she insists are her "flower girl supplies." Ridge pulls me into a bear hug.
"Took you long enough to figure it out," he says with a grin.
