The voice that woke him was one that Jack did not recognize.

“Are you Jackson Wendell Clay?”

He sat straight up before he was barely awake, rifle pointed at the source of the man’s voice. 

“Who’s asking?”

The man wearily handed him a manila envelope. “You’ve been served.” The man then walked away, with no apparent fear of getting shot, and got back into his car and drove away toward town.

Luckily, Maggie was still asleep and snugly wrapped in the bedspread by his side in his truck bed.

Jack watched the process server drive away and he slowly set down his rifle. He tore open the envelope. 

Maggie began to stir, and Jack’s stomach lurched as he read the contents. 

“What do you have there?” she asked sleepily, her lips snaking up his triceps toward his shoulder. 

“A court order of protection,” he said. 

“Mmm, what’s that?” Her hand snaked under the blankets and found his bare member, and it sprang to life, despite just receiving some very odd and bad news. Damn his cock really liked her hands. It liked everything about her. 

“Ugh…it’s a restraining order against me.” He could barely remember the words for it, as all his blood was pooling away from his brain and pooling elsewhere. 

Jack felt her stop kissing and stroking him. Dammit, he was enjoying that.

“For who? Who did this?”

Jack looked at her. “I’ll give you one guess, and the first guess better be Chet Easley.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He knew it wasn’t possible for his woman’s hair and eyes to change color when she was mad, but it surely looked that way for a moment. The fact that she was so angry on his behalf just made him even more ready to jump her bones again.

“I guess we will find out if the judge is kidding on…let’s see here…the fifteenth. I have a hearing that day.”

“That’s next week. Do you need a lawyer? I can call my sister!”

Jack reached over and kissed Maggie on the forehead. “That’s sweet but not necessary. I’ll show up to dispute it and I’m sure the judge will straighten it out.”

She was quiet for a moment. Jack worried what was going on in her head. Did this ridiculous piece of paper cause her to think ill of him? Was the restraining order causing her to have second thoughts?

He turned to her and drew her close. “Listen. I know I’ve got a temper, but I hope you know it’s never, not ever, going to be directed at anyone physically who is not my match in size. And least of all, a female. You know that, right?”

She nodded her head and smiled, but it was half drawn.

“Maggie, you were there that time I clocked Chet.”

“And his lawyer.”

“Yeah, that too. It looks bad, but you saw all of it.”

“I did, and that’s why I’m going to talk to the judge on your behalf.”

* * *

Jack shook his head and argued with Maggie for the tenth time that morning. “No, baby. I can’t have my girl defending my character to the judge. I defend myself. I defend you.”

After the process server had left, the two of them drove like bats out of hell to the house to get dressed and don their work clothes. They had slept past dawn in the back of that pickup, almost missing milking time. Maggie could not help but wonder how the process server had found them. The hay field was indeed on Jack’s property, but he would have had to follow a rutted path down to the creek and onto the field road. Not normal behavior. 

She put the question out of her mind, as they had completed their morning chores on the farm while going back and forth on whether Maggie should try to help with Jack’s new legal situation.

They were now in the mud room, taking off their shit-kickers and dumping their muddy Carhartts and jeans into the wash.

Maggie shook her head back at him and dumped a capful of detergent into the old top-loader. “And I’m just asking you to set aside your testosterone for one day and let me help you.”

Jack removed his outer shirt and tossed it in the machine as it filled with water. “Don’t you see? Chet’s going to be there with that bitch-ass little smirk of his.”

His back was to the door, and the rising run was hitting him from behind, highlighting the shoulders that had been sculpted by outdoor work. She knew he was a simple man, he understood animals and how to bale hay and how to fix a fence, how to drive stick and how to screw. Oh my stars, did he know how to screw. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and to her lips down below. Focus, Maggie. 

She stepped closer and inhaled his scent of fresh perspiration that emanated from his dampened skin. “All the more reason for me to be there. I can keep you from punching him in the bread box right there in the courtroom.”

It pleased her to see Jack smile at her words. “Now that you say it, that’s the only place I haven’t slugged him. Thanks for the reminder, Mags.”

Her heart leapt and the butterflies in her stomach flipped. Nobody had ever called her Mags. She liked it. “Why can’t you just admit you need me?”

Jack stepped in closer. “What I need right now is a shower.” 

“Don’t shower,” she said, licking her lips.

His eyes hooded and darkened. “With you in it.”

In what seemed like half a second, they were upstairs soaking under a warm shower, their remaining clothes strewn down the stairs as they had raced up.

Jack was braced up against the shower wall and had Maggie’s wrists pinned as he bent toward her to take her mouth in his. His kiss was slow and smoldering, less like the experience in the bedroom earlier and the pickup after that, and more like the heat they had shared on the dance floor. He had all different ways of kissing. Hot and passionate, lurid and penetrating, sweet and tender, teasing and playful. His moves made her absolutely crazy with lust. 

She would have enjoyed letting him slide into her again, with the added sensation of the falling water enhancing every touch, every noise. But the reminder that the pickup truck encounter had not included a condom made her think twice. Hadn’t she been wanting to suck him dry since he’d told off that lawyer? And didn’t he deserve to know she understood he was her protector? Here was her chance to show it.

“Jack, stop…”

“What’s the matter, baby?” he murmured into her neck.

“Let go for a second, there’s something I want to do for you.”

He let her go and stood fully upright, waiting. She went down to her knees as he watched her use her mouth to bring him over the edge. She wanted to make her man feel good, special, and completely assured that she appreciated every bit of the man he was.

* * *

The courthouse square glowed in the crisp air. All the shops, even the few boarded-up storefronts, seemed idyllic as Mayberry on this day. The day that Jack and Maggie were going to get a marriage license.

All her life, she’d only been in this stately old Victorian building just two times: when she’d registered to vote and when she’d obtained tags for her first car. It seemed like it had changed, or maybe she just now noticed how beautiful her little town was. 

Maybe everything seemed a bit more beautiful when she was suddenly finding herself madly in love just a few weeks after hitting rock bottom. 

Jack held open the massive mahogany door for her and held her hand as they walked up the grand marble staircase to the third floor to the vital records office. After filling out the appropriate forms and swearing an oath before the clerk that they were not in fact cousins or something—really?—they had in their hands a real marriage license, with a genuine seal of the state of Iowa. Jack handed it to Maggie, who ran her fingers over the raised seal. 

“Well, it’s official. Let’s do it now. I’m sure there’s a magistrate or somebody available to get the job done in a hot minute.”

Jack put his hand on her shoulder.

“Hold on, sweet thing. I want to do this right. You need a dress, at the very least. And we need witnesses. Don’t you want Mama 

Jane and some of your siblings to attend? I thought every girl wants a big splashy affair.”

Maggie leaned in. “It’s true all girls want a big wedding. Grown-ass women in love just want to start their lives and don’t care much for all that window dressing.” She rather enjoyed the thrill of him calling her sweet thing. 

He looked at her intently, then brushed her hair from her face, held her jawline in his big, callused hand like it was a fine china teacup and he was afraid of breaking it. “You’re a sweet, sensible woman, but I insist we do this right. At the very least, you need a dress. Here.” 

Jack had taken out his credit card before she could protest. “Take this and go dress shopping, pick out some flowers, pick a venue, call Jane and your sister and brothers. Taste some cakes. I’ll hang around here and fix us a date and look into this protection order nonsense and meet you for lunch at Hawk’s Diner on the square.”

She sighed, knowing she had met her match in the stubborn department. The alpaca vs. the donkey. Which one would win this argument? Still, the idea of dress shopping for her wedding had put him in the winning category. “I don’t much care for cake. I’m more of a pie girl,” she said.

Jack pulled her in close and dared to slide his hand down to her ass. He murmured conspiratorially in her ear: “I like only one pie, and it’s Maggie flavored.”

She blushed as her nipples went hard and her core fluttered for him. “After lunch,” she said, brushing his cheek with her lips.

He groaned, “After lunch we’ve got chores, baby.”

“Good, then I’ll meet you in the hayloft. We already did it in your truck, it’s time for my second tick off my bucket list. A literal roll in the hay.”

Jack smiled that crinkly-eyed smile and her knees about gave way from pleasure. The only thing better was watching him walk away to head back into the courthouse. She pouted as his ass disappeared through the mahogany door, but then she had dress shopping to look forward to. 

Across the street from the courthouse stood a wedding and tux shop as well as a few clothing stores, and more than one thrift shop. She crossed the street and veered into the thrift shop. She felt guilty at the idea of using Jack’s credit card, so the least she could do was be frugal with it. 

She found herself some comfortable jeans and vintage T-shirts, as well as some other necessities. She was elated to find classic concert T-shirts that in Chicago’s trendier vintage shops were highly overpriced. Here in Middleburg, nobody thought to price a vintage Pat Benatar T-shirt at more than $3, let alone $50. If left to her own devices, she might wear that for her wedding, but she knew Jack would be disappointed.

So with her haul, she headed next door to the dress shop. She spotted her wedding dress almost instantly. It was a lovely shade of purple, knee length, flowy chiffon, with a deep V-neck wraparound-style bodice and delicate rose petal cap sleeves. The print was small yellow daisies. To her, it looked like an Iowa sunset over a meadow of wildflowers. It was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. When she’d tried it on, it fit like it was meant for her.

“If I had that bust of yours, I would wear that dress out of here and never take it off,” the clerk said. She paid retail price and felt even more guilt. Maggie had never paid more than clearance price for any item of clothing for herself in her young life.

The clerk hooked her up with some pretty wedge sandals to match, and then she was tired. She lugged her bags across the corner to the fountain park and had a seat in the gazebo. She thought about hitting the flower shop, but she knew all she wanted was wildflowers. Hell, she’d be happy with a handful of blueberry branches from their farm. Come to think of it, the gazebo she sat in would make the perfect spot. No fuss, no muss. It could do with a power-washing, but it was tidy and charming with its gingerbread detail, with room for a few folding chairs for a few witnesses. That’s all she wanted and all she needed. She was far more ready to get started making babies with Jack, which told her that this was definitely the real deal. 

She checked the time; it had been about an hour. Ten minutes until she was to meet Jack for lunch. Who else in the world had her whole wedding planned in less than an hour? Only one more task to tackle—phone calls. She opened her phone and dialed Mama Jane, and held her breath. 

“Hi Mama, I have some news…”

* * *

Jack watched Maggie from the sidewalk for a few moments before he walked into Hawk’s Diner to join her for lunch.

It had been a beautiful day. He had some good news and bad news. He just wanted to enjoy watching his woman ordering their drinks, surrounded by her bags of goodies before delivering the reality of the situation. He was worried that what he was about to tell her might change her mind about marrying him, so he just wanted to hold on to this moment.

God, she was beautiful. Even ordering a glass of water with lemon, she radiated grace and sweetness. He truly loved her beyond reason. If she changed her mind, he would just have to do his best to win her back. There was no one else for him, but life sure was making it difficult.

“I called Mama Jane,” she said, as Jack took a seat across the table from her.

“And?” He did his best to smile.

“It went much better than I anticipated. Much, much better. She took it shockingly well, actually, considering how much she hated me rushing into things with Alex. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Maybe it’s the fresh air of Santorini, or that boy toy she’s got catering to her every whim. She’s like a completely different person… Hey, what’s up with you?”

“I fixed a date. Justice of the Peace says he can do it next week.”

“Great! I found a dress, and shoes. I looked at flowers, but you know what? I think I’d much rather have a homemade bouquet straight from the wildflowers from the farm… Jack? Look, I know none of this is typically what the grooms are interested in, but what is going on with you? Is it the court order of protection?”

“Yeah…kind of. The hearing is an hour after the wedding. I couldn’t change the time, and the justice said that was the only slot he had open next week. I’ll understand if you want to wait. The hearing’s going to put a damper on the festivities…”

“That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Jackson Clay, you know as well as I do that court order is a bunch of bullshit, and I am going to be there for you, whether you like it or not. We’ll get married and deal with this situation like a grown-up, married couple. And then we will go home, where you shall bone me until I’m unable to sit or walk.”

He was trying to figure out how to deliver the worse news, but the server and her giant platter of pie slices interrupted his thoughts.

“What did you order?”

“I told you I don’t like cake. We’re pie tasting, for our wedding.”

The server named all the pies as she set them each on the table. “Cherry, blueberry, apple, strawberry rhubarb for the lady, and—oh hey, Jack…”

“Hi, Ever.”

“These are for you,” Ever said, setting in front of him slices of lemon chiffon, mixed berry, and peanut butter Oreo.

When she was finished unloading the massive platter, Ever tucked it under her arm and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I hear my favorite customer is getting hitched to my old classmate.”

Jack put on his gregarious face again and engaged in small talk with Ever. Of course, she was about the same age as Maggie. Ever then went on to point out that the Justice of the Peace they were using was also her older sister.

“If you’d like to come to the wedding and be a witness, we’d love to have you,” Maggie said. God, he loved her spontaneous and generous spirit. He didn’t love her ability to read him, because when he looked across the table and caught her eye, he could tell she saw right through his friendly exterior. She could see something else was wrong. Oh, who was he kidding. He loved everything about her, even the fact that she could read him like a book.

Ever laughed. “Can I bring my fiancé Logan? That might light a fire under his ass to set a date for our wedding. Hey, Jack, you know Logan, he works down at the feed store.”

“Yup. Good man.”

“Well, now we’ve got the three of us connected five different ways, and that is how we play Middleburg Bingo, am I right?”

Maggie and Ever laughed and chatted some more. It was nice to watch his lover talk to another young woman. Her face changed as if she was finally feeling trusting around someone in town. Someone who didn’t want something out of her. He was glad she would have a friend at the wedding. 

But now he’d have to wait until the drive home to tell her the very bad news. It was too bad she’d probably be canceling the wedding. Because this peanut butter pie was the god’s honest best damn pie he’d ever tasted. Second only to Maggie’s, Jack thought lustfully, regretting that he’d only briefly plunged into her with his mouth the other night. Now he’d probably never have that chance again.