Just Between Friends - Julianna Morris

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after a moment. “Maybe just the two of us in a civil ceremony at the courthouse.”

      Kate’s eyelids dropped instantly, yet he thought he saw disappointment in their sea-green depths before it was hidden. But surely she didn’t want a romantic wedding—or worse, a church wedding. There was something sacrilegious about going into a church and promising to love, honor and cherish when you were planning to get divorced in a year.

      “Won’t your mother be disappointed?” Kate murmured after a moment. “I know how much she enjoyed it when Kane and the others got married. We could ask her pastor to do the ceremony. It wouldn’t have to be a big deal.”

      Dylan winced.

      Much as he wanted his mother to stop pestering him about settling down, he didn’t want to hurt her. But she’d be both worried and appalled if she knew the truth about why he was marrying Katydid. Fond as she was of Kate, she’d say they were making a huge mistake by using the sacred institution of marriage for something other than love. He was a little uneasy about it himself, but it wasn’t as if they’d really be married.

      No sex, for one thing.

      Lord, the next year was going to be dismal.

      Unfortunately, sex deprivation didn’t seem like a good enough reason to say no. Dylan cleared his throat. Kate was so innocent, she probably didn’t have a clue about what she was asking from him.

      “Katydid…I just don’t feel comfortable about having some preacher speak words over us.” His inexplicable physical reaction to her was causing another kind of discomfort, but she didn’t need to know about that.

      A stillness crept over Kate until she slowly nodded. “I see. So we’ll do it at a courthouse, or wherever civil ceremonies are offered.”

      Swell, now he felt like a selfish crumb.

      Husbands probably felt like that a lot, so he was getting off to a good start. Moreover, it didn’t even make sense because Kate knew the ceremony wasn’t supposed to mean anything. So why did he feel guilty?

      He sighed. “Look, I know you wanted—”

      “No,” she interrupted quietly. “You don’t know. It’s fine. We’ll have a civil ceremony and explain that we were in too much of a hurry to wait for a big wedding. That should satisfy the lawyers. They’ve been nagging me about the deadline, anyway, so they should understand.”

      Dylan searched Kate’s face, trying to guess what was going through her head. If she thought anyone would understand their marriage, then she was fooling herself. Katydid was like a shaft of moonlight—beautiful and unattainable, with quicksilver emotions and a pedigree of snobbish old wealth and privilege. While he was the son of down-to-earth Irish immigrants who’d worked hard and made a place for themselves in a new country.

      They were utterly incompatible.

      The only reason anyone might be deceived was because of the charity events she’d dragged him to over the years. Of course, his family had often hinted about something between them, but he’d always laughed it off.

      Now they were the ones who’d be laughing.

      Chapter Three

      “Hold on for a minute,” Kane O’Rourke ordered.

      Dylan wanted to yank his collar open, but his brother was too busy fastening the tie around his neck. Kane had filled their father’s shoes after his death, and he seemed to think this was one of his responsibilities.

      “I can’t breathe,” Dylan grumbled.

      “The groom has to be presentable, and that means a properly tied tie. Isn’t that right?” Kane appealed to the rest of the male O’Rourkes crowded into the smallest of their mother’s upstairs bedrooms.

      The others nodded agreement with varying shades of amusement on their faces.

      Dylan’s carefully laid plans for a quiet civil ceremony at the courthouse hadn’t materialized. Instead he was marrying Kate in his mother’s backyard with the entire family—plus a few dozen uncles, aunts and cousins—in attendance.

      “I feel like a damn fool,” Dylan muttered.

      “It’s the O’Rourke curse,” Neil said mildly. “Remember? Putting women and O’Rourke men together usually results in the men feeling foolish.”

      A chorus of agreement followed, making Dylan glare. They didn’t know the half of it. And what did Neil know about it anyway? Or Kane and Patrick? They were besotted over their wives. He’d never seen more billing and cooing in his life than when the three couples were together at family gatherings.

      Now he was supposedly joining the ranks of happily-in-love-and-delighted-to-be-married.

      With an effort Dylan unclenched his jaw. His sisters-in-law were a charming trio of women, but ever since he’d announced his engagement to Kate, things had gotten completely out of control. You would have thought he planned to have the ceremony in an alligator-infested swamp rather than a courthouse.

      What was wrong with a courthouse? A simple civil ceremony, no witnesses required—it was the best way to get married, especially when you didn’t really plan to be married. But that was the problem—he couldn’t admit any such thing.

      “I suppose everyone thinks I’m going to be next,” said Connor with a grim look on his face. He was the youngest of the brothers, twenty-seven, and even more determinedly single than the rest of them. That is, the way the rest of them used to be.

      Just wait a year, little brother, Dylan advised silently. I’ll be rejoining the bachelor ranks.

      Well, it might be over a year.

      He’d been thinking that it wouldn’t look good to the lawyers if he dumped Kate on her cute rear end after twelve months. They should go a while longer so it wouldn’t seem quite so much as if she’d gotten married just for her grandmother’s house. It might not make any difference legally, but he didn’t want Kate to be embarrassed. There’d been so much hysteria over putting the wedding together that he hadn’t had time to tell her.

      A knock came at the door. “Is everyone decent in there? And fully clothed?” called their mother’s voice.

      Everyone except Connor chuckled. It was an old joke, going back to the time when the preacher had come to visit on a hot Sunday afternoon and six-year-old Connor had streaked through the house, bare-butt naked. When Pegeen had scolded her son, he’d looked at her earnestly and said he was decent because he’d just been to church, but that it was so much cooler without clothing.

      “I wish everyone would just forget about that,” Connor grumbled. Being the youngest son wasn’t easy, but it was an old complaint and lacked any heat.

      Patrick reached out to open the door, a smile still on his face. “Decent and clothed,” he said.

      “All right, then. Now all of you go on downstairs, I want to talk with Dylan.” Her Irish brogue was stronger than usual, the way it always was when she was feeling emotional.

      Dylan watched his brothers and two closest cousins file good-naturedly from the room. He knew his mother had spoken privately with Kane, Patrick and Neil before their weddings, and he’d been dreading the moment; lying didn’t come easily, particularly to someone he loved.

      Pegeen hesitated, then sighed softly. “Your father always wanted to be here, talkin’ to you before you got married. But then, I think you know what he’d say, don’t you?”

      “I know.”

      Keenan O’Rourke had taught his sons simple lessons about honor and fidelity and about what being a man meant; lessons that were part of the everyday fabric of living and not just for special occasions. So, yes, Dylan knew what his father would say. The words weren’t necessary.

      “It’s a fine thing to make your own way

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