The Bridal Promise. Virginia Dove

      Out in the parking lot, Perri fumbled with the car keys and the copies of Gannie’s will. She had excused herself and gotten out quick. From the look of the sky, Spirit was caught between two opposing weather patterns, one to the norh, the other to the east. The light had turned that clear, lovely shade of pale, apple green that Perri associated with soon-to-follow destructive weather.

      The weather had been as good an excuse as any to make a graceful exit The ex-Mrs. Gary Kell, the lovely Lida, had been lying in wait in the outer office when the three of them had emerged. She had immediately draped herself all over Matt like a cheap suit, the better to pump him for details. It took a stronger stomach than Perri had possessed at the moment to witness that.

      Strong wind blew her hair into her eyes as she tried to get it straight which key on the unfamiliar ring fit the car door. A large, bronzed hand took the ring from her, inserting the proper key and holding open the door. “Thank you, Matt,” she said formally.

      He was wearing a suit, his hair just curling around the collar of his shirt. And cologne. She could sort of halfway deal with him when he was in boots and jeans, but not in a suit. Perri fought the urge to hang her head and not look at the man. He looked too good, too solid, his presence too comforting.

      “I’ve asked John to dig out whatever boilerplate he’s got on hand for prenuptial agreements,” Matt said. “You have an appointment tomorrow morning at 9 a.m., right after mine,” he added rapidly upon her glare, “for a medical checkup.”

      Jolted out of the notion of a “comforting” Matt Ransom, Perri stared at him. “What?” she cried.

      “Doc Berkka is leaving for Tenkiller,” Matt said as if that settled it.

      It did. “Of course. Silly me,” she said dryly. “Whatever was I thinking?”

      Trips to the lake were sacred to the Berkkas. Back when the current Dr. Berkka’s grandfather was in practice, every cesarean birth in June had been scheduled to accommodate the fish.

      “So, do we sign a prenup?” Matt demanded. “Book the church? Get a jump on the next thing that lawyer is going to tell us to do?”

      She had to ask. “Just when did Johnnie Deepwater become ‘that lawyer’?”

      “When he told me I had to marry you, that’s when,” Matt roared.

      Perri’s face tilted up toward his as they squared off. “Thank you so very much for announcing that at the top of your lungs,” she answered. “We can finish the job if you go on over to Blue’s Tavern. I’ll head for Marjorie’s Beauty Shop and then the whole damn county will be up to date on our personal affairs by sundown.”

      “Now who’s shouting?”

      “Go to hell, Ransom,” she said sweetly.

      For a moment he simply looked at her as the wind brutally lashed at them both. “Hell is where I’ve lived for the last twelve years.”

      

      Perri marched back through Gannie’s front door, past her cousin LaDonna Marlowe, and headed right for the wine.

      “The storm’s moved on to Apache, now that you’ve got your stuff out of my place during the worst of it. I brought beer,” Donnie called absently from the couch as she removed the cotton separating each newly painted pink toenail.

      “I knew better than to bring food, what with all the casseroles. Want one? A beer, I mean,” she clarified, looking up from her toes. “No, I guess you don’t.” Donnie watched with cautious fascination as Perri dumped her purse, slapped her copies of the will down on the sideboard, filled a goblet with wine and threw back a big swallow. Huge, blue eyes got even bigger. “What?” she demanded. “Tell me.”

      “I have ninety days to decide to marry Matt Ransom and keep this place intact,” Perri announced. “Or, I can decline marriage to that particular prince of darkness and see Gledhill sold out from under me for condominiums.”

      The silence lengthened as Donnie took in her cousin’s words. “Oh, I am nowhere near drunk enough for you to be telling me this.” Donnie replied. “I just started on this beer. Now slowly, and from the top.”

      Perri repeated the full exchange in Deepwater’s office. “Eek,” Donnie said weakly.

      “Maybe I won’t have to make this decision,” Perri continued. “Maybe Matt will refuse and I won’t have to make any kind of a choice about the land.”

      Her voice trailed off at the sound of a vehicle moving hard up the drive. On a sigh, they both braced themselves and, taking a sip, set goblet and beer bottle aside. There was no choice when it came to Matt or to the land. It didn’t need saying.

      “Donnie,” Matt nodded at the little brunette upon entering the living room. He paused to consider her screaming pink toenails. “Does the county sheriff’s office know what its ‘star’ deputy is wearing underneath her uniform?” he demanded.

      “Matt.” Donnie gave him a luminous smile that said: ‘I ain’t movin.’

      He looks dangerous; ready to blow, Perri thought as she glanced toward the woman she loved like a sister. The tension in the room made it difficult to maintain the appearance of nonchalance. Donnie would manage it somehow, Perri was certain. This was too good not to watch them play it out.

      A train whistled softly past the crossing and into the distance as Perri’s stance widened to mirror Matt’s own. Both of them had their weight transferred to the balls of their feet. They were poised like two gunslingers facing off.

      The only sounds were the ever-present wind, and the ticking of the clock on the mantel. Tread lightly, Matt, Perri silently cautioned. No matter what, he was going to have to work a bit harder to wear her down than he’d done twelve years ago.

      “We didn’t finish our conversation before you ran off,” he said. “Again.”

      “On the contrary,” she answered, “there’s nothing more to say for the moment, Matt.”

      “You still haven’t said yes or no, Stone,” he challenged.

      “No, I haven’t,” she shot back, “and I don’t intend to. Yet. I have ninety days before the decision is due.”

      Did he have to look that great? Why couldn’t he be an out-of-shape, doughy accountant, for heaven’s sake? And why had those adorable dimples of his sharpened into such a dangerous face? It really wasn’t fair, damn him.

      “Ninety days?” Matt echoed as he slowly covered the distance between them. “If you plan to string me along for three months, think again.”

      “I don’t plan to ‘string you along’ at all,” she countered. “But I won’t be pressured into a snap decision either.” She stood her ground and took a deep breath. “I want to at least sleep on it, Matt. So should you.” Perri tilted her head to look up with steady eyes as he reached the end of his walk. He didn’t have to know how much it cost her. “Am I to conclude from this unexpected visit that you want us to get married?” she asked dryly.

      Matt looked again at Donnie as if she’d missed her cue. “Forget it,” she said flatly.

      “Donnie.” Perri smiled, never taking her eyes off Matt.

      “Oh, all right.” Donnie stood up carefully, like a woman unconvinced that her polish was completely dry. “But if you hurt her, Matt, I’ll have to shoot you,” she muttered, turning toward the hall. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she stated unnecessarily and did the only sane thing a woman could do under the circumstances. She walked out on her heels.

      “Okay, bottom line,” Matt declared as they heard Donnie slap through the kitchen’s swinging doors. “Gannie must have felt strongly about it if she wanted us to get married this badly. And she was right. The Ransoms, or at least this Ransom, should make the effort to restore your place in the community. And to restore your home.”