CHAPTER TWO
Maddie
I was late for my own wedding.
Not fashionably late. Not a grand entrance late. Actually, genuinely, stuck-in-traffic-because-I-took-a-wrong-turn late.
My phone had died twenty minutes ago, right after it had sent me down what turned out to be the wrong highway exit, and now I was speed-walking up the courthouse steps in boots that were definitely giving me blisters, one hand on the railing so I wouldn’t fall flat on my face, and completely out of breath.
This was fine. This was totally fine. Every bride showed up to her wedding looking like she’d just run a marathon, right?
I hit the top step and there he was. Thorne.
Standing outside the courthouse entrance like some kind of brooding statue, wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt that looked like he’d actually ironed it. He looked unfairly good—like a mountain god carved from granite who just happened to be wearing denim. The man was a wall of muscle.
His eyes locked on me, and I watched something flicker across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or concern that his bride had shown up looking like a disaster.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, stopping in front of him.
“I’m so sorry. I took the wrong exit and then my phone died and I couldn’t call and—” I gestured vaguely at myself.
“Is this okay? The dress? I wasn’t sure what to wear to a courthouse wedding and I figured white was traditional but if it’s too much I can—do you have a flannel shirt I could borrow?
Would that be more appropriate? I’m rambling.
I’m sorry. I’m just really nervous and—”
“Maddie.” His voice cut through my panic, low and steady. “Breathe.”
I breathed, but it didn’t help. Not when he was looking at me like that. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were doing something that made my stomach flip—a dark possessive heat that made me feel like he was already tasting me.
Now where had that thought spring from?
“The dress is fine,” he said finally.
“Yeah?” I looked down at myself. It wasn’t anything fancy—a simple white sundress I’d found at a thrift store, fitted at the top and loose at the bottom, hitting just above my knees.
I’d paired it with a denim jacket because Montana in early spring was no joke, and brown boots that were currently murdering my feet.
“It’s perfect.” The words hit differently than I’d expected. Not casual. Not dismissive. Just... certain.
His gaze traveled down, then back up, slower than strictly necessary, and I felt what could only be a flutter of attraction begin to form. But who could blame me. My soon-to-be husband was a hottie.
Before I could process that, Kate appeared beside him, grinning like she’d won the lottery.
“You look beautiful,” she said, and I noticed she was holding a phone—probably had been taking pictures of my breathless arrival. Great. “Though you might want to fix your hair before we go in.”
I reached up and felt the disaster that was my previously neat bun. Half of it had escaped, long strands flying everywhere. “Oh God.” I started trying to pin it back up, but my hands were shaking.
“Leave it,” Thorne said.
I froze, bobby pin halfway in my hair. “What?”
“Leave it down.” His voice had an edge to it I hadn’t heard before. Not quite a command, but close.
Kate’s eyebrows shot up.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s kind of a mess—”
“Leave it.”
Our eyes met, and something passed between us. Something that made my fingers tingle and my breath catch.
I lowered my hands, letting the strands fall around my shoulders. Thorne’s expression didn’t change, but one hand flexed at his side like he was stopping himself from reaching out.
Kate cleared her throat, looking delighted. “Well then. I think someone has something for you.”
Thorne’s jaw tightened. He shot Kate a look that clearly said I’m going to kill you later, but he raised his other hand to show me what he’d been holding.
Wildflowers.
Not store-bought, not professionally arranged. Just a handful of wildflowers—yellow, purple, white—tied together with what looked like twine.
He held them out to me, not quite meeting my eyes. “Kate said you needed flowers.”
“I didn’t say needed,” Kate interjected. “I said it would be nice.”
“You said every bride needs flowers.”
“Well, they do.”
I took the bouquet, my fingers brushing his. His hands were rough, calloused. I had notice them the day in Kate’s office. Working hands. The flower stems were slightly crushed, like he’d been holding them too tight.
They were exactly right.
“Did you pick these?” I asked.
“This morning.” He cleared his throat. “There’s a meadow about a mile from the cabin. They just started blooming.”
He’d hiked a mile this morning to pick me flowers.
For our fake marriage.
My throat felt tight. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
He just nodded, but his shoulders relaxed slightly, and his eyes dropped to my hair again. Lingered.
“Alright, lovebirds,” Kate said, checking her watch. “We’re officially late. Judge Morrison doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Right. The wedding. The actual wedding that I was about to have to this man I barely knew.
No big deal.
Thorne extended his arm, and I stared at it for a second before realizing he was offering to escort me inside.
I looped my arm through his, and the solid warmth of him against my side made everything suddenly, intensely real.
We were doing this.
We were really doing this.
The judge’s chambers were smaller than I’d expected. Just a desk, some chairs, an American flag in the corner, and Judge Morrison—a woman in her sixties with sharp eyes and an expression that said she’d seen it all.
“Mr. Underwood. Ms. Cooper.” She looked between us, her gaze lingering on our linked arms. “Shall we begin?”
It happened fast. Too fast. Judge Morrison ran through the legal requirements, asked if we understood what we were entering into, confirmed we were both doing this of our own free will.
Thorne’s responses were steady, certain. Mine were slightly breathless but just as sure.
We’d rehearsed nothing. Planned nothing. But when she asked Thorne if he took me as his lawfully wedded wife, he looked directly at me and said I do like he meant it.
Like this was real.
My turn.
“Do you, Maddie Cooper, take Thorne Underwood to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Thorne was still looking at me. Still holding my hand—when had he taken my hand?—and his thumb was doing this thing where it brushed across my knuckles. Light. Barely there. But I felt it everywhere.
“I do,” I said.
We exchanged rings that Kate provided and Judge Morrison smiled. “By the power vested in me by the state of Montana, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Oh.
Right.
The kiss.
Through texts we’d talked about everything else—the contract, the living arrangements, the timeline—but we hadn’t talked about this. In my head, I’d imagined a quick peck on the cheek, something business-like for the sake of the witnesses. But Thorne apparently had other plans.
His eyes went dark, his gaze dropping to my mouth and staying there. I watched his throat work as he swallowed. He stepped into my space, one large hand coming up to cup my jaw. He tilted my face up, my heart doing something complicated in my chest.
It was supposed to be quick. Perfunctory. The kind of kiss you gave for show.
It wasn’t.
His mouth was firm against mine, confident, and when I made a small sound of surprise, his other hand slid to my lower back, his fingers splaying wide, pressing me into the hard line of his thighs.
I could feel the evidence of his reaction against my stomach, heavy and insistent, and it sent a jolt of pure fire through my system.
My hips pressed forward involuntarily, my body doing something my brain hadn’t authorized.
My hands found his chest—solid, warm, I could feel his heart pounding under my palm—and I kissed him back.
The wildflowers fell from my hand, forgotten.
I forgot we were in a courthouse. I forgot Kate and the judge were watching. I forgot that ten minutes ago, this man was a stranger. All I knew was the weight of him, the scent of him, and the way my body felt like it was finally, for the first time, exactly where it was supposed to be.
His fingers slid into my hair, tangling in the strands he’d told me to leave down, and the small groan that escaped him made my knees weak. I gripped his shirt, rising up on my toes, and his arm tightened around my waist, hauling me against him.
He kissed like a man who’d been holding back and just decided to stop. Like he’d been thinking about this. Like he wanted more.
His tongue traced my lower lip, and I opened for him, and oh God, this was not a courthouse kiss. This was not a business arrangement kiss. This was—
Someone cleared their throat.
We didn’t stop.
Thorne’s hand tightened in my hair, angling my head for better access.
Another throat clear, louder this time.
Thorne pulled back slowly, reluctantly, his breathing ragged. His forehead rested against mine for a moment, his eyes still closed, his hand still tangled in my hair.
When he finally opened his eyes, they were unfocused, dazed, and he was looking at me like he’d also forgotten where we were.
“Well,” Judge Morrison said, sounding thoroughly amused. “I’d say you two will do just fine.”
Kate was grinning so wide I thought her face might split. “I should’ve brought popcorn.”
Thorne’s hand dropped from my hair, but slowly, his fingers trailing through it like he didn’t want to let go. He stepped back, putting distance between us, and I watched that broody facade fall right back in place.
“Congratulations,” the judge said, handing Kate some papers. “You’re officially married.”
Married.
I was married.
To the man who’d just kissed me like he’d been thinking about it since Kate’s office.
My lips felt swollen. My face was hot. And I was pretty sure my legs weren’t working properly.
“We should go,” Kate said gently. “Sign the paperwork, make it official.”
The paperwork took ten minutes. I signed my name—Maddie Cooper, keeping my last name like we’d agreed—and watched Thorne sign his in bold, efficient strokes.
His hand was shaking slightly.
Husband and wife.
For the next six months.
We walked out of the courthouse together, and the spring air felt cold after the warmth of the building.
“Your flowers,” Kate said, handing me the forgotten bouquet. “You dropped them.”
During the kiss. I’d dropped them during the kiss because I’d needed both hands to hold onto Thorne before I melted into a puddle.
“Thanks,” I managed, taking them back.
Kate was already heading to her car, giving us privacy I didn’t know what to do with.
“So,” I said, because someone had to break the silence. “That was...”
“Yeah,” Thorne said, his voice rough.
We stood there, newly married, not quite looking at each other.
The air between us felt charged. Different.
“I’m parked over there,” I said, pointing to where I’d left my car in a panic. “I have all my stuff. Should I just... follow you? To the cabin?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It’s about forty minutes. The road gets rough about halfway—you’ll need to take it slow.”
“Okay.”
We stood there another moment, and I caught him looking at my hair again. At my mouth.
“Maddie.”
“Yeah?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. “Nothing. Just... drive safe.”
He walked to his truck—a beat-up Ford that looked like it had seen better decades—and I walked to my sedan, my legs still shaky.
I’d just married a stranger.
I’d just kissed a stranger who’d made my entire body light up like a Christmas tree.
A stranger who’d ordered me to leave my hair down and then fisted his hands in it and held me still for his kiss.
I got in my car and watched him pull out of the parking lot, his truck idling for a moment like he was collecting himself.
Forty minutes to the cabin.
Forty minutes to figure out what the hell I’d just gotten myself into.