Ryder could feel his smile stretching from ear to ear. He couldn’t believe it. He was standing on a quiet street in South Dakota, in an honest-to-goodness old West town, in front of a pioneer church, with a beautiful cowgirl bride. When Dr. Lachele came in for one last hug, he caught her up in a grateful squeeze that lifted her off her feet and made her shriek.

“Put me down!” she yelled, whacking him on the shoulder with her purse as Sam just watched on with a smile. Before Ryder could set her back on her feet, Lachele whispered to him, “Be careful with her. Careful and patient. And call me if you need any help!”

Ryder nodded but brushed off the words. The wedding nervousness . . . that was the hard part, and it was all over. Now the fun stuff could begin. He turned to look for Willa, but she was already striding toward a dusty F-350 super duty truck, those long legs of hers eating up the ground.

“Hey,” he called out, jogging to catch up. “Are you forgetting something?”

“Hop in.” Willa did so herself.

Ryder narrowed his eyes. His new bride acted more like she’d just gone grocery shopping and picked up a gallon of milk than a woman who had said her vows with a man she’d never met. But he grabbed his two suitcases out of the back of the rental car and tossed them in the bed of the pickup. He could always come back for the rental later.

“Where are we going?” Ryder asked once he’d buckled his seatbelt and she’d started the big engine with a roar.

She looked over at him uncertainly, her hands tightening on the steering wheel for a moment. “I’ve got work to do. I thought we’d head to my—I thought we’d head home.”

Ryder cocked his head. “Don’t you think we should at least grab some lunch? Have a conversation? I don’t even know where home is. Do we live here in Deadwood?”

“No,” Willa sighed. He was right. She couldn’t just go home and pretend everything was normal. She had to actually talk to her new husband. Feed him—and she sure didn’t know how to make him lunch. She had to try not to think about wedding nights. “You’re right. We’ll grab some food first. And, this is awful, but I have a question for you.” Willa could feel her cheeks burning, but it would only be worse later if she didn’t get this out of the way now.

“Ask me anything.” Her new husband grinned, dimples winking. Caught up in his handsomeness for a moment, Willa almost didn’t answer.

“Ah, your name. I’m sorry,” she said miserably. “The wedding happened so fast, and I just didn’t catch it.”

He laughed, showing straight white teeth. “That’s okay. The whole situation is a little . . . out of the norm. My name is Ryder. Ryder Pearce. And you’re Willa Pearce.”

Willa’s jaw dropped for a second. She wasn’t a Griffin anymore. Shaking her head at the unreality of it all, she said, “I have another question, but this one is easier. Do you like steak?”

* * *

As Willa drove them to the Gem Steakhouse, Ryder couldn’t help but stare out the window like a little kid. Deadwood, South Dakota, was incredible. Buildings that didn’t look any different than they probably had in 1875 lined up next to each other on a brick road, sporting names like Hickok’s, the Bullock Hotel and the Tin Lizzie Gaming Resort, their tall fronts stretching up on either side of Main Street. Awnings shaded the tourists wandering the sidewalks, and hills full of scrubby pines made up the movie-like backdrop.

The Mineral Palace, a hotel that apparently housed a casino, a bar, and the Gem Steakhouse, wasn’t far. When Ryder jumped out of the truck, the windows above the storefront across the street caught his eye, and he burst out laughing. When Willa looked at him, one dark eyebrow raised in question, he pointed, and she smiled. “I hardly even notice those ladies anymore,” she said.

“How could you not?” Ryder replied. “They’re a little, uh, eye-catching.”

“Maybe for a man,” Willa said, rolling her eyes.

In each of the windows, a female mannequin in scanty lingerie had been posed to look down on the streets below, just like the real-life soiled doves probably had over one-hundred years ago, calling out to the fellas that wandered by on their way to the bars or gambling dens. Ryder imagined they would look creepy at night, but for now, their seedy charm just added to the feel he was getting for a town proud of its rough-and-tumble past.

When Willa started to walk ahead of him with her characteristic long steps, Ryder moved quickly and grabbed her hand. “You think we could walk together?” he asked, holding her smaller, calloused hand in his own.

Willa ducked her head a little in embarrassment but slowed her steps to match his. She felt like an idiot and hoped her palm didn’t start sweating. She’d never held a man’s hand before. She wished she’d have asked Dr. Lachele or even Mrs. Hollis for advice about this whole marriage thing. She hadn’t been thinking any further than finding a man—any man—to share space with her on a marriage certificate. Put her on a horse in the middle of a hundred nervous steers in a thunderstorm, and she was fine. Hold a man’s hand? She had no idea what to do!

Ryder seemed to understand her nervousness, though. He let go of her hand long enough to hold the door of the restaurant open, but as she went to walk through, he caught her up in his free arm and gave her a quick but very hot kiss. “Relax,” he said. “We’re just going to have lunch and get to know each other.” Oddly, it did make her feel better.

They were seated quickly and given their drinks and a chance to order, which was easy because both wanted steak and a baked potato. “See? Common ground already,” said Ryder. “I could eat steak and potatoes every day. So, tell me about yourself, Willa Pearce.”

“Oh, you go first. My life story isn’t that exciting. Where are you from?” Maybe this would be easier if she just kept him talking.

“New York,” Ryder replied. “I was born in Vermont but lived in New York most of my life. Ever been to the East Coast?”

“No, I’ve never been out of the state.”

“Really!” Ryder seemed astounded. “We’ll have to do some traveling.”

Her heart sank a little. Travel? She couldn’t do that. Willa was saved from having to answer him when the waitress brought their food. She was about to cut into her ribeye, to keep her hands busy, when Ryder reached across the table to hold them. He bowed his head, and she quickly did the same.

“Father, thank you for the food you’ve provided, and thank you for bringing this beautiful woman into my life. Amen.”

He prayed simply and unselfconsciously, and her cheeks heated in a blush again at him calling her beautiful. He squeezed her hands briefly before letting them go. “I hope you don’t mind—I should have asked first. My parents raised me to give thanks for the good things in my life.”

“No, not at all,” Willa assured him and cut into her steak. She liked that her new husband was a Christian. “Are your parents still living?”

“They are,” he said. “Retired doctors, both of them, and Florida snowbirds from September to May. I asked them to the wedding, but both of their calendars are booked out so far in advance, they couldn’t free up any time.”

“Really?” Willa asked. “Not even for your wedding?”

But Ryder just smiled. “They made me promise to bring you down to meet them. You’d have to use a crowbar to pry them away from their beachfront community after September first. What about you? What’s your family like?”

“It’s just me, now. I was an only child. My mom died a few hours after I was born, and my dad left me for my grandparents to raise. My grandma died when I was five, so it was just me and my grandfather for most of my life, and he passed away a few weeks ago.”

Ryder’s blue eyes clouded with sympathy, and he reached across the table to touch her hand again. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, and she could tell he was sincere. He was just such a nice man. Her heart squeezed, and she almost embarrassed herself by tearing up.

“How’s your steak?” she asked, changing the subject and looking quickly down at her own.

“That banner in front of the restaurant didn’t lie. It’s the best steak I’ve ever had.” He popped another bite of the porterhouse in his mouth and closed his eyes briefly in bliss as he chewed.

Willa chuckled. “Of course, it is. It’s one of ours.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Circle G, my ranch, supplies the Gem and a lot of the other restaurants in town with their Black Angus beef.”

“Seriously?” Ryder asked. “A ranch. Like, a real ranch with cowboys? Tell me you can teach me how to ride a horse. And do you have a bunkhouse and a cook named Beans?” His face had lit up like she’d just told him she was a millionaire.

Willa wanted to laugh at his boyish enthusiasm, but she also didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He was definitely a city slicker—from New York, no less—and she knew he was picturing all the romanticized Westerns he’d ever seen. Real life, though, was not a Hollywood movie set, as he’d find out when it came time to castrate the calves. “Not exactly,” she said instead.

Ryder threw down his napkin. “Are you done?” He eyed her empty plate. “I mean, we could get dessert . . .”

“What happened to getting to know each other,” she teased. “I thought maybe I’d show you around town.”

“Later,” he said, already waving for the check. “I cannot believe I’m going to be a rancher.”

Willa’s own good humor dimmed fast. Ryder was not going to be a rancher, and he’d need to get that idea right out of his head. It was hard to hold on to her irritation, though, in the face of his obvious excitement.

They didn’t go straight home. Ryder insisted on a quick stop at Calamity’s Western Shoppe. “You do not need an entire Western wardrobe,” Willa said in exasperation. “These stores are for tourists or fancy wear. Tractor Supply carries stuff that will work just fine, and it’s a lot cheaper. You are not going to wear sequins and rhinestones.”

“Come on,” Ryder said, quirking a grin at her and holding up a bright red shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons and silver embroidery. He would look cute in anything he wore, she had to admit to herself, but he was also going to look like the biggest greenhorn ever if she let him get away with this.

“No, you’ll look like a square dance caller,” she said firmly, taking the hanger from him and putting the shirt back. Grabbing him by the elbow, she pulled him out of the store. “After six months, if you still want this shirt, you can come back and get it.”

At Tractor Supply, she helped him pick out some sturdy work boots—no pointy toes or alligator skin—Levis, T-shirts, long-sleeved Henleys, thermal wear, and flannel shirts. Daytime temperatures were still in the seventies, but they dropped fast in October. They also bought warm socks, a Carhart jacket, and warm gloves. By the time they finished, Willa was eyeing her watch. She hated shopping, and she’d already been away from the Circle G for going on six hours.

Ryder was studying a selection of hats when he began to get the feeling that his wife was tired of waiting for him. He wasn’t normally a clotheshorse or anything, but this was all just so cool and different to him. Even the store itself smelled weird—like animal food and sawdust—and he wanted to take it all in. If a feed store could be this much fun, how much fun would the rest of his new life be? Lachele had really known what she was doing when she’d matched him up with Willa.

Speaking of his bride, her arms were crossed, and she was looking more and more impatient by the minute. And he abruptly found it very sexy. He had a wife. To have and to hold was going to be a reality, finally. And he definitely couldn’t wait to get his hands on her so they could do some having and holding.

She caught him watching her and frowned. “Just get this one,” she said, grabbing a Sioux Falls Canaries orange and blue baseball hat and plunking it on his head.

“I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like yours.”

“I earned mine,” Willa said abruptly, at the end of her patience. “Last six months, and I’ll buy you a good hat, too.”

Her irritation didn’t faze him. Heedless of the fact that they were in the middle of a store, Ryder pulled her close and tipped his hat back. He kissed her, feeling the stiffness in the slim body pressed up against his go lax and loose in surprise. It only lasted a moment, but when he finally let her go, her dark eyes looked dazed and a little blurry. But she looked a lot less irritated.

“Ah . . . are you ready?” she finally asked, and he just gave her a knowing grin.

They made their way to the checkout with the brimming cart, and the young girl behind the register gave him a funny look. Willa almost laughed out loud when she realized that Ryder was still wearing the suit they’d gotten married in, complete with the Converse shoes and the tipped-back baseball hat. She couldn’t imagine what anyone would think, seeing him here. Even as she snagged his hat and put it on the counter so the girl could ring it up, he was wandering over to a display of books.

“Look,” Ryder said, holding one up. “Raising Beef for Dummies.”

“I already know how to do that,” Willa said, folding her arms. He wasn’t deterred. He grabbed several different books, seemingly at random, and dumped them on the counter with the clothes. As an afterthought, he grabbed a handful of Cow Tales, a long, chewy caramel taffy, and dropped them on the pile.

Giving her what she’d come to realize was his trademark, winning smile, he asked, “Do you want anything?”

Willa just sighed and grabbed two more Cow Tales. She’d only been married a few hours, but having a husband so far seemed about like having a teenage boy.

* * *

The Circle G was about 45 minutes from Deadwood, and Ryder divided his time between peppering her with questions about ranch operations and vaccinations and grazing techniques and reading out of the books he’d bought. She gave him sidelong glances as she drove, noticing the way that his hair fell over his forehead, his strong profile, the line of his jaw, just a little bristled with stubble. Willa was glad he was so obviously interested in his book—this one a history of South Dakota—that it gave her time to think and worry in peace.

She actually hadn’t told anyone she was getting married. It didn’t matter to the ranch hands, since to them, she was mostly just a fellow worker that happened to sign their paychecks, but she was starting to think she should have at least said something to Mrs. Hollis. Or Brodie. It was really starting to hit home that she hadn’t just signed a contract. She’d changed her entire life with a few words and the stroke of a pen.

Ryder looked like he was reading, but he hadn’t turned a page in the last ten miles. He was conscious of Willa watching him. It was getting late in the afternoon, and he couldn’t help it—his mind was going to what would happen that night. His first time as a married man. In fact, his first time ever. He wasn’t completely sure, but based on her blushes, he thought that the same went for the delectable Willa. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, her back straight, eyes alert on the country road ahead of them, and wondered if she was thinking about it, too. There was a good, healthy spark of lust between them, and there was no mistaking the way their kisses had affected her.

He wasn’t nervous about the sex. He figured that God intended for it to be fun for both parties, and it was a natural thing, meant to be enjoyed. He was just nervous that he wouldn’t be able to go slow. He wanted to eat her up like a piece of candy. His jeans felt tighter just thinking about that long, slim body and what might be hidden under denim and cotton.

It didn’t help matters when she spoke, her low, honeyed voice saying something as her full pink lips moved. Ryder wanted to hear his name on those lips. And then they were slowing down to make a turn, and she glanced at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?” He could feel his face heat.

“I said, ‘We’re here. This is the Circle G.”

He looked, and sure enough, there was a simple black metal arch over a dusty two-track, with a stylized G inside a hoop in the middle. He didn’t see a house or any cows, though. Just long stretches on both sides of four-strand barbed wire fencing and rolling hills of still mostly green grass. They drove on, bouncing over ruts, for about a quarter of a mile, and on the next rise, he could see a low, white house that sprawled over a hilltop and a few barns and outbuildings scattered here and there, ranging in size.

Ryder looked at Willa, and he could see the pride in her face as she waited for his reaction.

“You own all this?” he asked. “This place is incredible.”

She smiled shyly at him, and he finally understood the cheesy phrase: he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “It is pretty great,” she agreed. “If you look over there” —she nodded her head—“you can see Mount Rushmore.”

“No kidding.” He whistled. He couldn’t make out the faces, but it was true. There was a view of Mount Rushmore from her backyard. The feeling of stepping on to a movie set persisted.

Willa parked the truck in front of the house and waited near the front door for Ryder to grab his things. She wanted to curse when she saw Brodie riding toward them on one of the piebald geldings. She wasn’t ready to introduce them yet. Brodie wouldn’t appreciate that she hadn’t told him about Matchrimony, and he tended to be overprotective of her. Once, he’d decked one of the ranch hands for making a flirtatious comment to her. Being around men as she had all her life, Willa had brushed it off as boys being boys, but Brodie had considered the man way out of bounds. He’d gone to her grandfather afterward, and the cowboy had packed his things and moved on by the next day.

“Hey, Will!” he called out, bringing the horse to a stop and looking curiously at Ryder in his suit and sneakers. “Who’s this?”

Ryder studied the other man, feeling just a little bit insecure. He was perched on top of the black and white horse like he’d been born there, tall and tan, and not much older than Ryder. He was good-looking, as far as Ryder could tell, with a face that the ladies probably liked—sort of a cross between Matt Damon and the guy that played Thor in those superhero movies. He reached a hand down to Ryder, and his grip was firm and hard. Maybe a little too hard? Ryder narrowed his eyes and looked over to see Willa’s reaction.

Her cheeks were dusty pink under her light brown skin. She cleared her throat and gave the man on the horse a careful look. “Uh, Brodie, meet Ryder. He’s . . . um . . . Ryder and I got married this morning.”

The guy looked shell-shocked, his eyes wide. Ryder nodded his head. “Nice to meet you, Brodie.”

Brodie nodded back curtly but didn’t say anything for a full thirty seconds. He studied Ryder again, harder this time. “What have you done, Willa?” he finally ground out.

Willa wasn’t cowed by his overbearing tone. She drew back her shoulders and glared at Brodie. “I’ve gotten married.”

“This is about the ranch, isn’t it? About Richard and the will.”

“Brodie,” she shot back in a warning tone. “This decision wasn’t up to you. I’m taking Ryder in to show him around. If you want to talk about this later, fine, but right now, I want you to get a couple of men out there with you to move the herd. The back pasture is looking overgrazed.”

Ryder winced. He didn’t appreciate the guy’s tone, and he wasn’t completely sure he wasn’t jealous of his obviously close relationship to Willa, but she’d just told him to butt out and that he wasn’t doing his job right. That had to sting.

Sure enough, Brodie gave Ryder one last threatening look, wheeled the horse around without even using the reins, and headed off without a word.

Willa grabbed the Tractor Supply bags and stomped toward the house, and Ryder found himself following her. Again.

He mused over the situation. His new bride had some ’splaining to do.