Free The Accidental Bride by Denise Hunter

daughter—”
    â€œI don’t need a babysitter.”
    He opened the door and held it while she hobbled through.
    â€œThanks for your help.” She turned awkwardly and took hold of the door.
    He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Instead, he touched the brim of his hat, but the furrow between his brows said everything his mouth wouldn’t.
    It wasn’t until later, foot propped on a foam pillow, daughter tucked in her bed across the hall, that Shay realized Travis never did tell her why he’d come over in the first place.

11
    W hen Travis got home from Shay’s house, he picked up the mail and settled behind his dad’s desk. After tackling the bills, he opened the final letter, addressed to him, and unfolded the document.
    He frowned at the certificate. Strange. He leaned back in his father’s chair and looked at the envelope the letter had come in. The county clerk’s office. Why would they be sending him a marriage certificate? Made no sense.
    He looked closer at the document and saw his name, his signature. On the next line was Shay’s name, Shay’s signature, and below that . . . he squinted hard . . . Pastor Blevins’s ?
    A shot of adrenaline rippled through him. He didn’t understand. He turned the paper over, blank on the other side.
    He and Shay hadn’t signed anything during the pretend ceremony. He looked closer, looked at the date, and felt the heavy weight of dread sink like a boulder in his stomach.
    It was their marriage license, the one they’d filed for fourteen years ago. But how had Pastor Blevins gotten hold of it? And why was the clerk’s office mailing it to him?
    He looked up the pastor’s home number and dialed. Voice mail kicked on, and he hung up. He’d have to wait until morning.
    He stood and paced the length of the office. Where had that license come from? Surely Shay hadn’t kept it all these years. It was a mistake of some kind. Maybe Miss Lucy knew what happened. He stalked back to the desk and called her at home.
    â€œHi, Miss Lucy, it’s Travis. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
    â€œOh no, dear. The girls and I were just getting ready for bed. What can I do for you?”
    He rubbed the back of his neck. “This is going to sound strange, but do you know whatever happened to Shay’s and my wedding license?”
    â€œOh, that. Well, I do, actually. I found it in one of my boxes and—remember that pedestal at the Founders Day reenactment? I set the license there, hoping to jog Shay’s memory. Give her a little nudge, you know. But I don’t think she even noticed it.”
    Man, oh, man. Travis rubbed his face.
    â€œWhy do you ask, dear?”
    â€œWhat did you do with it after the ceremony?”
    â€œWhat did I—Oh dear, I don’t know. I forgot all about it. Did you want to save it? I hope it didn’t blow away.”
    â€œIt didn’t blow away.”
    â€œOh good.”
    â€œMiss Lucy, it arrived in the mail today.”
    â€œWell, isn’t that lucky!”
    He rubbed his face. “Shay and I seem to be officially married.”
    â€œOh my! Congratulations, dear!”
    â€œThis is not good, Miss Lucy.” It had to be a mistake. Shay would kill him if it wasn’t. “I mean, the license must’ve expired, right? Anyway, we applied for it in Wyoming, and the wedding was in—Wyoming. But we don’t reside in Wyoming, so that should make it null and void. The clerk’s office just missed it.”
    â€œI don’t know anything about all that—let me ask the girls.” She muffled the phone while she talked to her dolls. Heaven help him.
    The Internet. He marched to the computer and typed in a search, then drummed his fingers while the links came up. He clicked on a government site and began skimming.
    Must be eighteen years of age or older . Check.
    The license must be used in the state of Wyoming . Check.
    Any