Page 1 of Country Vows

PROLOGUE - TALIA

EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

They say rain on your wedding day symbolizes a lasting, strong marriage. A wet knot is harder to untie than a dry one.

But no one explains to you how difficult it is to shimmy out of a cheap, synthetic wedding dress when it’s wringing wet.

Through the curtain of rain, a man stands in the middle of the street, head tipped back, arms spread wide, as he bathes himself in the summer downpour. His blue button-down shirt is soaked through, the material clinging to every sinewy muscle on his torso. His cowboy hat lies at his feet as his boots kick through a puddle, sending water arching through the air and catching on the streaks of sunshine trying to escape through the gray, overcast skies.

“Get out here!” His rich voice carries through the storm.

Even though he’s not looking my way, I know he’s talking to me. We’re the only two people out here, him dancing in the rain and me cowering under the protection of the courthouse doorway.

I cup my hand around my mouth. “You’re going to catch a cold!”

“In sickness and in health, remember? You’ll take care of me, won’t you, wife?”

If him smirking around that one-syllable word wasn’t enough to evoke a full-body shiver, the wink he throws at me would certainly do the trick.

Because, yes, the lunatic dancing in front of me, looking unfairly handsome as rain sluices down his chiseled face, is my husband. I haven’t stopped smiling since he slipped the simple silver band over my finger twenty-six minutes ago.

I stare at my left hand, testing the weight of my newest piece of jewelry, a smile blooming on my face.

“Last chance, Tally Girl!” he hollers.

There’s no point resisting him. I didn’t try when I was sixteen years old, and almost three years later, it’s pointless. Tate Brooks is irresistible, and today, on paper, I can officially call him mine.

My husband.

Giddy and drunk on love, I hold my breath, hitch my dress up to my knees, and sprint toward him. I squeal as pellets of rain ricochet off my body. The strike of cool rainwater against my bare arms and legs is a welcome relief against the August heat.

Arms spread wide, his smile even wider, Tate scoops me up with ease once I reach him. A few petals from my quaint bouquet of pink tulips fall to the ground as he spins me in the air. He keeps me tucked close, peering down at me with eyes the shade of the Aegean Sea.

“You’re causing a scene. They’re going to think we’re insane and revoke our marriage license.”

“Pssh. They can try. You’re all mine, wife.” His grin is infectious. “God, I love saying that.”

“You just like hearing your own voice.” There’s no controlling the pure delight on my face either. I love my new title.

“Nope.” He looks skyward. “This is my wiiiiiife!”

“Tate!” I smother my groan into his shoulder, my cheeks turning crimson. “You’re a fool.”

He tugs on a damp strand of my hair. “A fool in love, Mrs. Brooks.” Looping an arm around my waist, he sways us side to side. There isn’t any music, but that’s never stopped us. Tate hums low in his throat, curating a tune he’ll be mimicking on his guitar later.

Married at eighteen, fresh out of high school, without a cent to our names. Most people see us as foolish. My parents certainly will. Tate’s mom is a lot more laid back. She’ll be furious she didn’t get to see her one and only child get married, but at least she’ll be happy for us. We’re supposed to be in Tennessee, but we made a slight detour at the last minute. None of them know about our recent nuptials, and we’ll tell them eventually, but for now we remain in our post-nuptial bliss.

Foolishness is staying in this rundown town. It’s not following our dreams because someone told us we wouldn’t stand a chance. It’s not marrying the love of your life. And maybe we are naïve, but we’re happy, which is all that matters. I’d also rather be a fool in love than a fool who’s too afraid to chase after what they want. Did I imagine myself married so young? No, but when Tate proposed, I couldn’t find a single reason not to say yes. It was going to happen eventually. He’s my first and only love, so why wait?

We’ll spend our “honeymoon” on the road, because after today, it’s goodbye Canyon Pass, Texas, and hello Nashville, Tennessee, where I’ll be attending Vanderbilt University.

When I received the news about my full scholarship, Tate didn’t hesitate in marking a big fat red X in his calendar. He immediately started researching off-campus accommodation for us. My scholarship wasn’t handed to me on a silver platter, and without it, school would be nearly impossible without racking up a load of debt. Hours spent with my head in a book and earning extra credits while working evenings at the local convenience store got me my spot. It was also the boy currently slow dancing with me in the rain who helped me get here.

For all his clowning, when Tate puts his mind to something, he goes all in.

When his mom lost her job, he picked up two additional shifts at the steelyard.

When my parents told me I’d never reach my goal of becoming an attorney, he wrote a list of all the reasons I would and pinned it to my locker.