Chapter 9 #2
“She agreed to move in with her sister and follow her doctor’s orders, so within a couple of months, I’d signed papers on my new property, googled teaching jobs and credentials in Vermont, packed up my stuff, and turned in my resignation at my school in North Carolina.
It was all so easy, it felt like it was fate.
And then I got here.” I chuckled, then sighed.
“And you realized the dream was a nightmare.”
I looked at him, startled. “Well, no. I mean… it’s still a dream. But it’s gonna require a lot more work than I initially thought.” I huffed out a laugh. “Like, a lot.”
“So, why not leave? Why not let the house sit here for a couple more centuries and go back to your old life?”
I frowned. “Just… give up? Would you do that?”
“Well, no, but…” He hesitated, then blew out a breath. “No. I wouldn’t.”
“Of course not. The house is mine now. Mine to take care of. Mine to complain about and sweat over and possibly fall off the roof of—”
“Not funny,” he said gruffly. “It will never be funny.”
I smiled softly. We’d have to agree to disagree about that, because when the mortification wore off—assuming it ever wore off—I was going to spend long private minutes remembering the feeling of his hands on me out in the snow.
“Anyway, I try to stay positive—”
He snorted. “Of course you do.”
“—and focus on all I’ve accomplished so far. Like the back porch stairs, and—”
“And the barn for your sheep.”
“Exactly. Those sheep live well,” I told him proudly. “Though I still have some work to do on the supposedly enclosed pastures. My sheep see them as a personal challenge to hurdle.”
Webb chuckled and gave me another friendly shoulder bump.
I was suddenly very aware that I was shirtless, and he was not, and he was really, really warm. I wanted to move much closer… which was why I scooted away and stuffed my mouth with more ice cream.
“And I’ll get the rest of the repairs sorted, too.
It’d definitely be easier to take care of things if I could get a loan, but when they said the place is mine ‘in perpetuity,’ they weren’t kidding.
I can’t mortgage or sell off any of it to raise funds since I don’t have a clear title on the place. And, according to my lawyer—”
“Him.” It was pretty clear what Webb’s opinion of Stephen Fox was.
I snickered. “Yeah, him. He said it’d take months. And if he’s talking about land surveys or whatever, it’s gonna take even longer because I’m a man living on a teacher’s salary with three hungry Romeldales to support… and a premium ice cream habit.” I shook my empty carton at him.
“You might end up with more land after the surveys are done, though.”
I cocked my head. “Seriously, what part of this story suggests that I want more land, Webb? Besides, I told you I’d happily give you—”
“Yeah, I know.” He cleared his throat. “I believe you.”
“Good.” It was pathetic how good those words made me feel.
“But you can’t keep trying to do the work yourself. It’s fucking stupid. You’re gonna get hurt, and—”
“I can handle it.” I lifted my chin. “I’m looking into getting a personal loan.
I haven’t given up. Pippin Hollow Credit Union said I haven’t lived here long enough to become a member, which sucks, and the other places I tried want me to put up collateral, but I don’t have any except the land, which I can’t use because—”
“Because you can’t get a clear title, and round and round it goes.”
“Yeah. It’s complicated.”
“Which is why you need a friend to help you ‘uncomplicate’ it?” He lifted an eyebrow.
I laughed. “No. This is no one’s problem but mine, and I’ll uncomplicate it myself. But it is sometimes frustrating. Which is why last night I needed to blow off some steam.”
“And ended up blowing the Handfast Bugle instead.”
“If only your townspeople called it that,” I sighed. “You would have avoided it like the plague, Mr. Allergic to Relationships, and saved us all this trouble.”
“Our townspeople. And I’m not sure that’s true since I didn’t know what handfasting was until after I’d already done it.” He paused, then said in a rush, “You know it’s not about you, right? The relationship thing. I just… I have no interest in getting married again. Ever.”
I blinked at him. “Well, right, but even if you were, I wouldn’t be the person you’d choose.” I laughed lightly.
He frowned. “Don’t say that. Look, I know we barely know each other, and after the way I’ve acted toward you, you have no reason to believe me, but you’re a likable person, Luke.
You’re funny. A-and smart.” His face darkened.
“About everything except home repairs, anyway. And I’m sure any guy looking for a…
a handfast partner would pick you. But I’m not—”
“That’s…” I shook my head. Was Webb Sunday actually giving me the it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech? He was adorable. And so freakin’ obtuse. “I meant because I’m a man, Webb. And you’re straight?”
“Oh.” Webb hesitated. “No, yeah, that’s probably also a good point.”
Probably?
I turned to eyeball him and found that Webb was already staring at me, green eyes intent on mine and lips parted just a tiny bit, his face so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek.
What… the…
Then Webb sucked in a breath and pushed to his feet so quickly I thought I must have imagined the whole thing.
“So! Speaking of the handfasting! We should, ah… talk about the, ah… the requirements. The… the ‘confirmation tasks.’ So we can avoid fulfilling them.”
“Oh, right.” I shook my head to clear it. “Yeah. Good idea.”
“I had my attorney look it over earlier, and he chuckled a lot, but I haven’t read it yet. I was a little bit… upset,” he admitted. “Have you read it?”
I shook my head. I’d been waiting until I was calmer, too. I had a feeling I’d be waiting a while.
“Well, Curt—my attorney—said as long as we don’t fulfill all twelve obligations within eight weeks, the handfasting process expires, the bylaw won’t apply, and we’ll be free.”
“That easy?” I asked. “Awesome.”
“Yup. But he also said Ernest York is gonna be publicizing the heck out of this thing. It’s the kind of charming story that brings in tourists, and it deflects from the divisive clusterfuck of the resort development. You’ve heard about that, right?”
I nodded.
“And the people of this town…” He shook his head. “When they think there’s matchmaking to be done, they get even more meddlesome than usual. And they’re not gonna believe that you and I aren’t actually… you know.”
“Together?” I supplied.
“Exactly. So we’re gonna want to be careful, otherwise we’ll find out too late that eating pancakes together at Jack’s somehow made our betrothal official because of the Little Pippin Hollow Breakfast Food Consumption Act of 1742.”
I snorted. “Right. Lemme grab my copy. I put it up here.” I stood on the mattress to reach the upper storage area.
“Where up there?”
I knew Webb was looking over my shoulder because I felt the heat of him against my naked back.
“Not sure. I may have chucked it up here in frustration before going out to deal with the tarp.”
Webb chuckled, and a shiver moved down my spine.
This is a no-erection zone, Williams. Jesus, especially while I was wearing these pants.
“Got it!” I seized the scroll and jumped back down.
“Okay, let’s see.” I threw on a sweatshirt, then moved a pace or three closer to the heater so I could no longer smell Webb’s pine-and-cotton scent.
“Here we go: ‘At a general affembly… I mean, assembly, held at the Town Seat of Pippin Hollow on the tenth day of May, Anno Domini, One Thousand Seven Hundred, and Sixty Seven, be it here Enacted that Partners who may be disposed to Matrimony, where Sufficient Permission cannot—”
Webb sat down at the table again and let out a fake yawn. “I’m aging here, Luke. Skip to the confirmation tasks.”
“Uh… Right. Part the First.” I glanced at him over the scroll. “The bugle blowing. Too late to avoid that.”
“Right.”
“Part the Fecond… I mean second—”
“D’you need reading glasses?”
“No! Shush. It’s just written with those S’s that look like F’s, and all kinds of weird capital letters.
As I was saying… The Betrotheds must knowingly partake of Sweet Water drawn from the Pippin Well.
” I glanced up. “Water from Pippin Well? Is that a place? Or do they mean, like, ye olde municipal water supply? ’Cause if drinking tap water is enough, I’m halfway handfasted to this entire town. ”
Webb snickered. “You can be the one to tell Mayor York that we’ve become a handfasting orgy. The rules say knowingly, though. I bet it means you have to drink from the same glass I used or something.”
“Ah, well, then that’s easy enough to avoid.” I arched an eyebrow. “You’ve probably got cooties anyway.”
“Loaded with them,” Webb agreed. He stroked a hand over his beard. “What else?”
“Part the Third, Betrotheds must Prepare a Matrimonial Domicile with their own Skillful Endeavors.”
“Got it. No house building.”
“More than enough houses between us already,” I agreed. I looked back down. “Uh… Okay, Part the Fourth. Betrotheds must Layeth By a Store of Cloth, Salt, Tools, or other Provisions required of a Plentiful Union.”
“Damn. Hey, Alexa,” Webb called to my imaginary computer, “cancel the gift subscription to Salt of the Month that I purchased earlier.”
Webb’s teasing grin was back in place, doing funny things to my stomach, and I couldn’t help grinning in response. “Agreed. You’re salty enough already.”
“Rude.” Webb stood up and stole the scroll from my hand, then pushed me to sit on the opposite side of the table from where he’d been.
“Hey!”
“Part the Fifth,” he read, leaning against my bright orange stove and making the thing look all kinds of sexy.
“Betrotheds must Bestow Their Own Clothing or Footwear upon One Another.” He looked up.
“I can’t foresee you borrowing anything of mine, and I cannot see me fitting into anything of yours. ”