“No. I want a goddamn cigarette. This is why I hate bein’ on the road. I get so f**kin’ bored all I can think about is firing up a smoke. And don’t suggest sunflower seeds. They don’t work.”

“Didn’t for me either. I had to get a big bag of Dum-Dum suckers.”

“Chewing on plastic straws was the only thing that worked for me.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Speaking of chewing…when did you quit?”

“About six months ago. Bet with my mom as an incentive to get her to quit smoking.”

“Did it work?”

“Has so far. We both chewed about a million packs of nicotine gum. Did you use pills or gum or anything?”

“Nope. I quit cold turkey. Three days after I broke up with Breck. Might sound stupid, but I starting smoking with him, so it seemed like I oughta quit when we called it quits. Been a lot tougher to give up than I thought.”

Kyle looked at her. “Cigarettes were tougher to give up? Or Breck was tougher to give up?”

“Cigarettes.” Celia tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Although there was a lot I liked about Breck or I wouldn’t’ve stayed with him.” She let a beat pass. “Thanks for what you said to him.”

“I meant every word.” It was the perfect opportunity to bring up the marriage issue. “So we’re telling everyone who knows we stumbled down the aisle…that we’re getting an annulment?” He knew his voice sounded disapproving.

“I thought we agreed on that.”

“No, you informed me of your intent to get an annulment. I didn’t argue. But that’s not agreeing with you, Cele. Not by a long shot.”

“Well, let’s compile a list of who knows about us getting hitched. Tanna. Who’s only told Lainie. Lainie, who says she won’t tell anyone. Devin. Who told…who the hell knows all the people he’s told. Breck. Who’s probably told everyone on the damn circuit. Your mom.” She looked at him. “Who all has your mom told?”

“How the hell would I know?”

Kyle’s cell phone rang and they both jumped. “Speak of the devil. Hey, Mom. We’re just starting the descent into Cheyenne.”

“I’ve been trying to call you for the last four hours.”

“What’s up?”

When his mom didn’t answer right away, he knew. He closed his eyes. “When?”

“About twelve hours ago. Right after I told him you were on your way to see him.” She sniffled. “Evidently his death came as a shock even to the staff. Marshall didn’t have anyone listed as next of kin, but one of the nurses after shift change had my number and she called me. I just got off the phone with his lawyer. He’s set up a meeting tomorrow morning at nine.”

Kyle didn’t know what he was supposed to feel in response to this news. He’d been afraid to meet the man and now he would never have the chance. The resentment he’d tamped down earlier reared its ugly head again.

“Are you staying with me and Rick tonight? Because I made up the guest room.”

“No.” He wouldn’t give in to her guilt. “What’s the lawyer’s name?”

“Bill Ruttan. His office is downtown. Do you need directions?”

“I’ll look up the address when I get to the motel. Are you gonna be there tomorrow?”

“No. It’s just supposed to be you.” She hesitated. “And your wife, if you want.”

“Jesus, Mom, you told the lawyer I was married?”

Celia groaned.

“I assumed it was all right.”

He bit off, “Do me a favor. Don’t assume anything. Don’t talk to anyone about any of this, okay? My marriage, whatever the hell this inheritance is supposed to be about. You think you can handle that?”

“Kyle Dean Gilchrist. Stop being an ass.”

“Funny, that’s what my wife says to me too. I’ll call you when we’re done at the attorney’s.” He hung up, mired in that place between regret and anger. Wondering what the f**k happened next.

“Kyle? What’s going on?”

“Marshall died. So there’s no need for us to rush to the VA.”

She covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. Pick a hotel you wanna stay at tonight.”

Celia didn’t speak until the truck stopped. “How’s this place?”

Kyle squinted at the sign. Fairfield Inn. “This’ll work.”

As they entered, the front desk clerk was nauseatingly chipper. “Good afternoon. Welcome to the Fairfield Inn. My name is Trudy. How may I assist you today?”

“We need a couple of rooms.”

Celia tapped his shoulder. “Why are you getting us separate rooms?”

“Because I’m in a lousy mood and I want to be alone.”

Her mouth grazed his ear. “Tough shit. You’re stuck with me.” She gave the clerk a cheeky smile. “Sorry. Temporary marital dispute. One room.”

Marital dispute? Was she serious? She was going to acknowledge their marriage…now?

“King-size bed or two queens?”

A challenge floated between them. Kyle said, “Two queens.”

Celia dropped her gaze.

If Kyle hadn’t known better, he’d have said she was disappointed.

Fuck. That was the last thing he needed to worry about: mixed signals from the woman who claimed she didn’t want to be his wife.