Page 101 of Mountain Grump
The woman sneers at me. “If you think?—”
“I think that for as long as I’ve known Tilda, I’ve never met you.” She doesn’t know the length of time is approximately a week. And she doesn’t ask. She just assumes. I drop my smirk. “So, I hardly think your permission or blessing or evenpresenceis of importance here.”
Mother Wright looks like she wants to claw my eyes out.
I have half a heartbeat to wonder if I’ve gone too far, but then Tilda makes a little squeaking sound. And I know it’s her suppressing a laugh.
Knowing I haven’t offended Tilda, and taking it as permission to keep being a dick, my body relaxes.
The other woman, who I believe is Tilda’s aunt, crosses her arms. “We’re coming as witnesses.”
Tilda’s purple curls brush my arm as she shakes her head. “No. I don’t want any of you there.”
One of the older men gasps.
I look down at Tilda. “Are they always this horrible?”
Her eyes are filled with an emotion that looks a lot like appreciation as she meets my gaze. “Always.”
I make a sound. “I see why you’ve never introduced us.”
Someone new gasps this time, and I lift a brow.
Tilda presses her lips together.
“We aren’t just going to take your word for it, Ma-tilda. So if you’re going to insist on marrying this man, then we’re going to insist on being your witnesses.” Disdain laces each of her mother’s words.
Tilda and I continue to look at each other.
“Will they stick around if we wait to get married tomorrow, as planned?” I ask, assuming a Saturday wedding was a part of the lie.
Tilda blows out a breath as she nods. “Afraid so.”
Something happened in that room, with that lawyer, that is making it imperative for us to marry.
Or, at least, for Tilda to marry.
And I’m here.
The only option.
Convenient.
I stare into her captivating eyes. And I don’t have to take time to think about it. If Tilda has to get married, she’s not getting married to anyone else.
This might be an irrational decision, but whatever we do can be undone.
And if it can’t…
I flex my fingers around hers.
“It’s up to you, Firecracker. We marry tomorrow and have these clowns on our heels for twenty-four hours. Or we can find the closest chapel and get married right now.”
“Threat to the natural order?” she whispers up at me.
I dip my chin. “Every damn day.”
Her nose flares as she inhales.
