The Mcclintock Proposal

Chapter Two

Callie’s attacker landed on top of her as they both crashed to the ground. The fall sucked the air out of her lungs and she gasped for breath. Inhaling grit from the sidewalk, she bucked and squirmed beneath the man to throw him off. She twisted onto her back and swiped at the man’s face, drawing blood.

She recognized him as one of Bobby’s associates, Clyde.

He cursed and rose to his knees, straddling her body. “You’re going back to Bobby, and I’m going to deliver you.”

Like some terrible, avenging superhero, Rod appeared, looming behind Clyde. Rod hitched an arm around Clyde’s neck and yanked him back. His weight shifted to Callie’s thighs and she reached over her head to grab a pole, trying to pull her legs free.

Clyde’s face above Rod’s corded forearm reddened as he choked and sputtered. After a minute of clawing at Rod’s unyielding arm, Clyde slumped to the side, slack-jawed.

Callie slid her legs from beneath his inert body. As she staggered to her feet, the driver of the Cadillac hooked an arm around her waist. He dragged her toward the open door of the car, lifting her off her feet. She drummed her heels against his shins and dug her fingernails into his arm.

Rod delivered a final blow to the prostrate lump on the ground and then charged the man holding Callie. He slammed his fist into the man’s face, which spurted blood.

“Damn you, stay out of this.” Her abductor released her and barreled into Rod, who welcomed his advance with a kick to the midsection.

As the driver doubled over, Rod grabbed Callie’s hand and they sprinted to his truck. Ever the gentleman, even in a time of crisis, Rod opened her door and lifted her onto the seat. He slid into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition.

He pulled away from the curb, and a sharp crack propelled Callie about two feet off the seat. “What the hell was that?”

“Your scorned groom took a shot at us.”

“That’s not my groom. He sent his cohorts to do his dirty work.” Clutching her belly, she peered into the side mirror. “Are they following us?”

“Not yet, but let’s make it hard for them.” Rod skidded around the corner, and then another, before careening down an alleyway. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Who are you calling?”

“The police.”

She grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not? Two men tried to kidnap you. Even ditching a wedding doesn’t justify that.”

“It’s not that simple, Rod.” She covered her face with her hands, massaging her temples with her fingertips. He had to know she’d given him only the barest of details. The way he’d studied her with his guarded green eyes told her that much. He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. Peeking at his bulging bicep through her fingers, she decided she’d chosen the wrong analogy.

Rod slammed on the brakes, and she lurched forward, straining against her seat belt.

“What are you doing?” She glanced at his profile, as rock-hard as his bicep, as he clenched the steering wheel with hands still bloody from the fight.

“You tell me what’s not so simple, Callie. I want to know everything. Right now.”

Licking her lips, she craned her neck around to look out the back window. “I’ll explain everything, but can we get out of Truth or Consequences first?”

He peeled away from the curb and headed for the on-ramp for I-25…south. She swallowed. “Y-you’re not taking me back, are you?”

He snorted. “Why would I want to deliver you into the hands of your irate groom and deprive myself the pleasure of strangling you myself?”

He jabbed a button on the console and classical music filled the truck as he dragged in a deep breath.

“You’re kidding…aren’t you?”

He snorted again, but he’d loosened his grip on the steering wheel and the harsh lines at the sides of his mouth disappeared.

The desert landscape whizzed by, and the cacti hunched like little alien creatures with their arms raised to the sky, begging to return home. She could relate—not that L.A. held any charm for her anymore, except for her foster child Jesse, but she wanted to get back to her makeshift studio. She had the perfect subject for her next sculpture. Her gaze slid to the silent man beside her, his thumbs tapping in time to the music from the CD.

Could she tell Rod everything? When she had his face beneath her hands, she knew he’d accept nothing less than the truth. When he’d rescued her from those three morons on the side of the road, she knew a woman could depend on him. And yet… The man had his own demons to slay. Years of photographing and sculpting faces had taught her a thing or two about reading people.

Yeah, like you did such a good job reading Bobby Jingo.

She’d been watching the highway since they left Truth or Consequences. When a pair of headlights came up behind, Rod would slow down until the car passed them. No white Cadillac so far. Had Bobby’s men continued north? She shivered and clutched her bare arms.

“Are you cold?” Rod turned down the music and flipped off the air conditioning.

“No.” If Bobby had tracked her down, what had he done to her father? She gripped her hands in her lap. She’d better find out. “Can I borrow your cell phone to call my father?”

“If your father was at the wedding, do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Even if Bobby’s monitoring Dad’s calls, what’s he going to do with your cell phone number?”

“Harass me.”

She held out her hand. “You’re a big boy. You just single-handedly disposed of two of Bobby’s goons. What’s a little harassment?”

Rod plucked his phone out of his shirt pocket and dropped it into her open palm. “Be careful. Don’t tell him anything.”

Nodding, she punched in her father’s cell phone number. Dad picked up after the first ring.

“Dad, it’s me.”

He coughed. “What are you up to, Slim?”

He’d never called her Slim before. Didn’t much bother with nicknames. “Is Bobby there?”

“Yep. I bet on that pony once. Why’d you bet on him? Why’d you do it?”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I—I overheard a conversation.” She sent a sidelong glance toward Rod. “After that, I couldn’t go through with it.”

“That pony put me in a tight spot.”

She clenched her jaw. “Are you okay? Has he hurt you?”

“Not yet. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t. What are you going to do now?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll get you out of this. I promise.”

Her father grunted, and then Bobby’s rough voice assaulted her over the line. “Where are you, bitch? I guess you found out that dear old Dad didn’t screw me over in a business deal. What else did you discover? My men told me you’re with some cowboy who rushed you off in his truck.”

“Did they also tell you that cowboy kicked their asses before we rushed off in his truck?”

Rod jerked his head around. “Is that him?”

Bobby cursed. “Nobody can protect you and nobody can protect your father. He owes me over a hundred grand for a gambling debt, and he’s going to pay. Then you’re going to—”

Rod snatched the phone from her hand. “Listen, you sonofabitch, the next time you send a couple of jokers after Callie, I’ll send them back to you with more than a few cuts and bruises. I’ll send them back to you in matching body bags.”

He snapped the phone shut and tossed it into the cup holder. Callie laughed. She grabbed the phone, powered down her window, and tossed it out.

Rod jerked his head around. “Why’d you do that?”

“Bobby might be able to trace your phone and track us down.” She brushed her hands together as if ridding herself of a pesky bug.

In the few months she’d known Bobby Jingo, she never heard anyone talk to him like that before. It gave her confidence that she could handle the man. Rod gave her confidence.

“Is your father okay?”

“For now. Where are we going?”

“Here.” He took the next exit toward Hillsboro. “Hillsboro is a ghost town, an old mining town.”

“You’re taking me to a ghost town?” Gooseflesh rose on her arms. She didn’t need any more scares tonight.

“Only one part of it is ghostly. People still live in Hillsboro. There are even a few art galleries.”

Leaning over, she peered at the digital clock on the dashboard. “I’ll bet you there’s nobody awake in Hillsboro at eight-thirty on a Saturday night. Except the ghosts.”

“We’re not going there to kick up our heels.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they tooled along Main Street. A few shops had their lights on, and Callie didn’t see one ghost.

Rod pulled up next to a church. They got out of the truck, walked up to the church and stood on the bottom step. “We can see every car that comes into town from here.”

“And if one of them is a white Caddy?”

“Bring it.” He patted the black fanny pack he’d buckled around his hips when he got out of the truck.

She raised her brows and smirked. “You’re going to beat them back with the contents of a fanny pack?”

“This is a gun bag, not a fanny pack, and the contents include one Smith&Wesson pistol.”

“Oh.” She gulped. Maybe he wasn’t kidding about those body bags. “Where’d you get that?”

“Beneath the seat of my truck.”

Good thing she didn’t see that when he first picked her up, or she’d have jumped out of the truck on the interstate. Now that cold metal made her feel warm and fuzzy.

He grabbed her hand and led her to the top step. “Do you want to go inside?”

“Are guns allowed in churches?”

“Ever hear ‘Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition’?”

She giggled, and it released a little knot in her chest. She could do this. She could trust Rod.

“I think I’d rather keep an eye on the road.” She sank to the church step, the skirt of the wedding dress billowing around her.

Right location. Right dress. Wrong occasion.

Rod perched next to her, his thigh brushing her leg. Her eyelids fluttered at the sweet sensation.

She couldn’t believe her good fortune when this hunk of cowboy strode out of his truck to rescue her. At least one bit of luck had scrabbled through the misery of her wedding day and the past six months of her life.

“Okay, start from the beginning. Come clean, so I know what I’m dealing with when I drive you into Albuquerque and see you on that train to L.A.”

“Bus.”

“Train. Circumstances have changed.”

She crossed her legs at the ankles and tapped her feet together. How could she start from the beginning? They’d be here until mass the next morning.

It all started with her lunatic grandfather and his draconian conditions of inheritance. But she had to start somewhere.

“I agreed to marry a loan shark, Bobby Jingo, to pay off my father’s debts.”

Rod twitched, his thigh banging against hers. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. But at the time, I didn’t realize Bobby was a loan shark.” Or a wannabe drug dealer, the worst of the worst, but she kept that deal breaker to herself. “My father told me he had promised some money to Bobby in a business deal, and thanks to my father’s mismanagement, the deal fell through and Bobby lost a lot of money because of it.”

“That shows an amazing degree of familial loyalty.” His rough hand cupped her face, and he turned it toward him so he could look into her eyes. She blinked, but met his gaze steadily. “Why would you do something like that?”

“I wanted to help out my father and maybe help myself a little, too. A few months before my father’s phone call, a fire damaged my studio in L.A. I lost all my art in that fire, and my home.”

Callie bit her lip. She also lost her opportunity to adopt Jesse, a foster child she’d met while giving art lessons.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Isn’t there another way you can raise the money? Get a loan from a bank? Sell a car? Take equity out of a property?”

She shook her head, drawing her knees to her chest. “Neither of us has any collateral or property…yet. I just couldn’t think of another way to help him.”

Rod grunted. “Maybe he doesn’t deserve your help. What kind of father allows his daughter to marry a scumbag to save his hide?”

“A bad one.” She lifted her shoulders. Even though she’d given up on a father-knows-best type of dad, it didn’t mean she could stand by and watch someone break his kneecaps—or worse. “Dad’s not all bad. It was my idea. He did try to talk me out of it.”

“Bull. He misrepresented the situation to you to rope you in. How much money are we talking about?”

“One hundred and thirty thousand, give or take a few grand.”

Rod whistled. “That’s some gambling habit. No wonder you can’t sell a car to pay back the money, unless you have a Ferrari.”

“Dad bets on the ponies, sports, loves Vegas. You name it, he’ll take odds. I should’ve known his debt involved gambling and not business.”

“Ah, I don’t mean to be insulting.” Rod cleared his throat. “But is this thug really willing to accept a reluctant bride in exchange for a hundred and thirty grand?”

“This is where it gets good.” She wrapped her arms around her legs and balanced her chin on her knees.

“It hasn’t been good yet?”

“Once I marry, I will have the money.”

Rod buried his fingers in his thick, sandy-blond hair. “Now I’m confused. Why will you have money when you marry Bobby Jingo?”

“I didn’t say I had to marry Bobby Jingo, just marry. My grandfather had some crazy ideas. He always wanted a big family, and he built a sprawling house on his ranch in Wyoming to accommodate it. Unfortunately, he and my grandmother had only one child, my father. Then my father turned out to be irresponsible and immature. He married several times, but he had only one child with his second wife—me. At least, I think Mom held the honored position of wife number two.”

“How many times has your father been married?”

Rod’s eyes looked a little glazed over, but he was obviously following the story without too much difficulty.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She waved her arms breezily. “Four or five times.”

“So this lack of familial dedication to the old homestead gave your grandfather his crazy ideas?”

“You could say that. Before he died, he drew up a will stating that his sole grandchild, me, would inherit the ranch only when I married.”

“And Bobby Jingo obviously knew about this will.”

“My father told him.”

“Great guy, your father.”

“We’ve already covered that aspect of this story, but Dad didn’t believe I’d actually offer myself to Bobby. When he first called me, he was kind of hoping I already had someone in mind.”

“At the last minute you couldn’t go through with it, even to save your father?”

“I wanted to. I really did. I figured, once I married Bobby and sold the ranch, I could go back to L.A. But then I overheard him talking to someone and discovered he wasn’t the injured party in the business deal, or not exactly.” A tremble snaked its way up her spine, a sob escaping her lips.

Wrapping an arm around her, Rod drew her close. Her head dropped to his solid shoulder, and he smoothed her hair from her cheek. The warmth from his body soaked through the satin of her dress, and her fears evaporated.

She didn’t want the moment to end. She didn’t want to tell Rod everything she overheard that convinced her she couldn’t marry Bobby. She wanted to push the ugly truth into the background.

If she’d gone ahead with the marriage, she would’ve jeopardized her adoption of Jesse. She’d figured a marriage would improve her chances at adoption, but not a marriage to someone like Bobby Jingo.

The curve of Rod’s arm represented a safety and contentment she hadn’t experienced since her grandparents were alive. She hadn’t seen much of them growing up, because her mother didn’t like her in-laws, but they always hovered in the background of her life. They never forgot her birthdays, they paid for her braces and health insurance, and they socked away money in a college account for her. She didn’t get to thank them, since they were both dead by the time she started college.

Sighing, she burrowed deeper into the crook of Rod’s arm.

“You seriously considered giving up your grandfather’s ranch to a lowlife like Bobby Jingo?”

“It’s not mine to give up.” But Rod had a point. Grandfather Ennis had hated scum like Bobby, and Dad seemed to surround himself with those kinds of people.

“If you got married to someone decent, it would be yours. You’d be fulfilling your grandfather’s wishes, keeping the ranch in the family.”

Decent… She lifted her head from his shoulder and rubbed her eyes, an idea niggling at the edges of her brain.

“What happens to the ranch if you don’t get married?”

She pushed up from the church steps. “What?”

His brow furrowed. “What happens to the ranch if you don’t get married?”

“I—I don’t know.” She began pacing on the wooden porch, avoiding stepping on the nails with her bare feet. “It goes to an associate or something.”

She glanced at Rod, his long legs stretched in front of him, his arms folded across his chest. It just might work. She could make it work. An arrangement with an honorable man would save her father, save her grandfather’s ranch and save Jesse. She had to get that ranch.

Time to take action.

Standing up, Rod asked, “What’s wrong with you?” He wedged his shoulder against a wood post and regarded her with his head tilted to one side, a lock of russet-gold hair falling over his eye.

He looked so damned sexy, it sealed the deal. Callie straightened her spine and stood on tiptoes in front of him. “I have an idea. It might sound crazy, but I think it’ll work.”

Rod narrowed his green eyes and his jaw tightened. Callie faltered, falling back on her heels. He didn’t look so comforting right now, although the sex appeal rose as high as the church steeple above them.

“What kind of idea?”

Callie dragged in a deep breath and closed her eyes as she expelled it slowly. “Let’s get married.”

Chapter Three

Callie’s three little words punched him in the gut. He dug his shoulder into the post so he wouldn’t tumble down the church steps.

“What?” His one syllable, which echoed in his own ears, forced Callie to jump back. He must’ve shouted.

Despite the almost-full moon that lit Hillsboro’s main street, he couldn’t make out the expression on her face. She was joking. She had that kind of sense of humor, one of the many things he liked about her.

He threw his head back and laughed at the moon.

“Rod.” She shook his arm. “Rod, I’m not kidding.”

Swallowing his next guffaw, he choked instead. Callie pounded him on the back. Working with clay or whatever material she used for sculpting gave her strength. Her pats felt like blows from a hammer.

“All right, all right.” He straightened up and backed against the post. “That’s a crazy idea. Insanity must run in your family.”

“As someone once said, it not only runs, it gallops.” She giggled, a nervous sound that resembled a squeak. “This may be crazy, but it’ll work out for both of us.”

“Exactly how will a marriage to a woman who has carloads of thugs chasing her around New Mexico and lunatic relatives help me?”

Rubbing her hands together, she resumed her pacing, obviously warming up to the idea. “Think about it. We get married, and then I get the title to the ranch. I can borrow against the equity or sell off a few acres and pay off my father’s debts to Bobby Jingo.”

“What do I get out of it?” Other than the chance to claim this impossible, free-spirited, sexy woman as my own.

“Money.” She spread her arms in front of her, palms up, as if offering him the filthy lucre right here and now. “The ranch is huge. I can pay off Bobby, and there would still be plenty left over for you. You told me tonight how your ranch wasn’t profitable. Why didn’t you buy those horses in Austin? Too expensive?”

“I am not marrying a woman for money.”

She dropped her hands and bunched the skirt of her dress in her fists. “You have an opportunity to save a man’s life, not to mention my life, and all you can think about is your pride?”

The rabbit hole got deeper. How did he end up the bad guy? “Strangers don’t run around getting married for money.”

Her grimace melted into a smile, which washed over him, drowning his common sense.

“We’re not strangers. We’ve known each other for about four hours, and we’ve experienced more drama than some couples do in a lifetime. Fear, terror and uncertainty draw people together.”

He had to admit he’d opened up to this woman more than he did on a typical first date—most likely because he’d figured a woman fleeing from her wedding on a Honda 550 couldn’t judge him. And this wasn’t a first date. He uncrossed his arms and rolled his shoulders.

She continued, barely taking a breath. “People get married for all kinds of crazy reasons—money chief among them.”

Both of his brothers had married for love, but Rod never figured he’d find that with any woman. Being the oldest in the family, he remembered, more than his brothers, the cold indifference of their mother. He didn’t want to risk winding up with that kind of family. So he took no risks at all.

“Look at me. I almost married someone horrible to get money to save my dad.”

“And I’m much less horrible than Bobby Jingo?”

“Much less.” She laughed and took his arm.

He glanced down at her deceptively fragile fingers, wrapped around his forearm. At least Callie put everything out there. She didn’t have any ulterior motives, and there would be no expectations between them.

“What happens after you pay off your father’s debts and buy me a few horses?”

She shrugged and the silky strap of her dress slid off her shoulder for about the hundredth time since he met her. This time he hooked a finger beneath the strap, his fingers skimming her soft skin as he righted it.

Drawing in a quick breath, she stepped back. “We partake of that other American institution—divorce.”

“Alimony?”

“We’ll work out a prenup. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Does your grandfather’s will stipulate how long you have to enjoy your wedded bliss?”

She bit her lip and rolled her eyes to the sky. “At least two years. Why? Do you have plans?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll have a few plans in the next two years.”

“Do any of them involve a woman?”

“No.”

“So what’s the harm?” She grabbed his hands. “We stay married on paper for a few years, and then go our separate ways.”

“I don’t want people to think I married a woman to get her money.”

“Don’t look at it that way.” She squeezed his hands and tilted her chin to gaze into his eyes. “You’d be saving my life, Rod, and my father’s life. I need to find another studio and start working again. The money’s there to sweeten the pot.”

The pressure of her touch and the way her lips pouted inches from his own scrambled his senses. If he didn’t marry her, how would she get the money? He couldn’t loan it to her. Bobby Jingo would never stop pursuing her, but once she paid him off he’d leave her alone, especially if she were married…to someone else.

People married every day for far less noble causes than saving two lives.

He could keep his marriage a secret.

She’d go her way. He’d go his.

Maybe fate dropped a woman in a wedding dress on the side of the road for a reason.

To hell with everything.

Dipping his head, he took possession of those sweet lips. She dropped his hands, but he hitched an arm around her waist and dragged her closer, their bodies meeting along every line. She squirmed for a few seconds, slumped against him and then shimmied out of his grasp.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m kissing my bride-to-be.”

Rod’s words pierced through the cotton candy that had enveloped her from the moment his lips met hers. How could one kiss on the lips have such a monumental effect on every other part of her body? She felt…ravished. What would the rest of his anatomy do to her?

“Are you getting cold feet already?” His brows formed a V over his nose as his face gathered into a scowl.

“No. I’m thrilled. You’ve made me the happiest woman on earth.” She twirled around the church porch until something sharp poked her heel. “Ow.”

Lunging forward, he caught her in midspin. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Oh yeah. She’d been right to play on his protective instincts. She hooked her injured foot behind her other ankle. “I think I got a sliver.”

He swept her up in his arms, and then lowered himself onto the top step, sliding her bottom off his thigh so that her legs hung over his lap. “Which foot?”

“This one.” She wiggled her left foot. “It’s my heel.”

He cupped her dirty foot in his hand as if he held a precious work of art. Then he dug into his pocket and withdrew a pocketknife.

She curled her toes. “I don’t think it’s big enough to cut out.”

He snorted and plucked a pair of tweezers from the knife handle. “You are a city girl. Didn’t you ever spend any time on your grandfather’s ranch?”

“Not much. I moved around a lot with my mom.” She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the pain as the tweezers brushed her foot.

Several seconds later, Rod was massaging her foot. Her eyes flew open. “Do you think you’re going to massage it out?”

Pinching the tweezers between his fingers, he held it up. “I already got the sliver out.”

She hadn’t felt a thing. Her husband-to-be had a gentle touch despite his calloused hands. How the hell had she gotten so lucky? Maybe the losing streak she’d been riding these past few years ran out of gas on I-25, along with that motorcycle.

“What’s the plan?” Although she could sit here for the next three hours while Rod rubbed her foot, she had a wedding to attend.

“We get married.”

“Now? It has to be past nine o’clock. We still have to get a marriage license.”

“You almost got married in New Mexico. What do we need to get a license? Do we need a blood test?”

“We just need the license fee and a form of ID. No blood test, no waiting period. But I doubt if little ghost-town Hillsboro has a courthouse to get the license. Not to mention it’s Saturday.”

Rod slid the knife back into his pocket. “We’ll have to wait anyway. You still have your driver’s license?”

“Of course. How irresponsible do you think I am?” She shoved her hand into the fitted bodice of her dress and peeled her license from the side of her breast. “Tadah!”

He laughed. “You have a lot of tricks up your—or rather down your…a lot of tricks.”

Hoisting her legs from his lap, he stood up and extended his hand to her.

She tucked her driver’s license back into her strapless bra and grabbed his hand. “Where are we going?”

“Vegas, baby.”

ROD SLEPT BESIDE HER in the truck, his breathing deep and even. He’d insisted on driving the first leg of their ten-hour trip while she napped in the passenger seat. When she woke up, he was sitting ramrod straight, his eyes glued to the road.

He’d broken their deal. They worked out that he’d drive the first five hours while she slept, and she’d take over the wheel for the second half of the journey. Instead, he’d let her sleep for over six hours. She practically had to wrestle the steering wheel away from him to drive her share.

His chivalry impressed her and made her feel like a gooey marshmallow inside. Nobody had ever looked out for her the way he had this crazy day. His every move, since he first pulled over on the side of I-25, had been to protect her.

Even though she’d used all her wheedling powers, common sense and logic, she still couldn’t believe it when he agreed to her scheme. He’d admitted that he needed cash for his dude ranch, but she knew in her heart he’d based his decision on his desire to keep her safe. No, not desire, need. Something compelled him to perform good deeds.

She glanced at his handsome face, with its square jaw and broad cheekbones, one lock of hair curling over his eye. If he had such a burning passion to help women, why had matrimonial bliss eluded him so far? The man didn’t even snore.

A glow, like a giant spaceship, arose from the desert landscape. She accelerated toward its exuberant embrace. So many people came to Vegas looking for salvation, her father among them; but for her, this neon paradise really did offer deliverance.

Twenty minutes later, she cruised off the highway toward the Vegas strip. She nudged Rod’s shoulder with the heel of her hand. “We’re here.”

“Huh?” His head rolled to the side and he opened one eye.

“We’re in Vegas. Wake up.” Callie held her breath. Did his brief nap awaken him to the lunacy of their plan?

He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he cranked his head from side to side. “My neck’s stiff.”

No sign of regret yet. “Where to? Did the Marriage License Bureau give you directions when you called earlier?”

“It’s on Clark Avenue.”

Her pent-up breath escaped through her lips, as she sank against the leather seat. No regret at all. “Do you know how to get there?”

“No, but my GPS does.” He reached beneath the passenger seat and pulled out a GPS, a black cord wrapped tightly around it.

“I didn’t know you had one of those.”

“I’ve made the trip to Austin a few times. Didn’t need it for that drive.” He plugged in the GPS and tapped the screen a few times. The monotone voice from the GPS intoned the first direction to Clark Avenue and the building that would seal her fate with this man for at least a few years.

When they walked inside the building, a blast of cold air greeted them, although the early morning temperature outside hadn’t reached scorching levels yet.

They waited in a short line behind two other couples, nobody giving Callie’s wedding dress a second glance. When they got to the counter, the clerk gave them each a form to complete. When they finished, they slid their forms, along with their driver’s licenses, across the count er. Ten minutes later they walked out with their marriage license.