Prince Charming Can Wait (Ever After) by Stephanie Rowe

tightly around her hand she knew it was cutting off the circulation. "You're really going to go on this mission?"
    Disappointment flared in his eyes. "That's what you wanted to ask? Yeah, I'm going." He shoved back from the dock—
    "Wait!" Emma ran forward and jumped onto the boat. Her foot slipped, and Harlan grabbed her arm, yanking her into the boat before she fell into the water. His strong grip was like a manacle around her wrist, but she didn't let herself stop to think, to realize what she was saying. "I'll do it, Harlan."
    His face darkened, and his grip tightened. "Do what?"
    "Marry you."
***
    "Hello! Ned! Wake up!"
    Emma shifted restlessly on the front porch, waiting nervously as Harlan pounded on the door. It was three in the morning now. Three in the morning! What were they doing? A light went on in the house, and Harlan stepped back, waiting for the door to open.
    His face was inscrutable, and it had been since the moment she'd said she would marry him. She couldn't tell if he was happy or mad or even insane. He had simply gotten serious about making it happen, which is why they were on the front steps of the town clerk at three in the morning.
    The door finally opened, and the front porch light illuminated the night, almost blinding her. Wearing a pair of faded red flannel pajamas, Ned Hartmann peered through the screen door, his gray hair askew and his eyeglasses not quite straight. "Harlan? Emma? What's going on here?"
    Harlan didn't waste time. "I'm in town for two days, and I don't know when I'll be back. I leave town at eight tomorrow morning. Emma and I want to get married."
    Emma's heart jumped at the words, and her hands started to tremble. Oh, God. Get married again? A cold chill seemed to settle on her skin, and she lost track of the conversation between Harlan and Ned as a weird buzzing started to fill her ears.
    A strong hand clasped her upper arm, and a low voice filled her. "Hey, sweetheart, it's okay. I've got you."
    Her heart seemed to stop when she saw Harlan looking down at her. He was unshaven, his hair too long, his tee shirt old. He was rough and dangerous, a man she should run screaming from. But instead, his roughness seemed to ease her fear. He wasn't trying to be perfect. He wasn't putting on a façade to hide who he was. He was just him , and he'd told her exactly what he was about and what drove him. No lies. No secrets. Just ugly truths, which actually made her feel better.
    He didn't smile, but his brow furrowed. "Ned has all the required paperwork here. He can certify our marriage license without even going into the office. He's already gone to get his wife up to witness it."
    She stared at him, her mouth suddenly dry. "We really can do this? Get married legally in the middle of the night?" But of course they could. This was Birch Crossing. Things like that could happen here.
    "Yeah." He grasped her other arm and gently turned her toward him, his grip firm but not threatening. His brows were knit, his expression unreadable, but not harsh. "Listen, Emma, you don't have to do this. It's fucked up, what we're doing, what I'm asking you to do. I know that, and I can't ask you to—"
    "No." She covered his mouth with her fingers. "I want to. I need to get married, too."
    Questions flared in his eyes. "You do? Why?"
    "Because—"
    "Come on in," Ned interrupted. "I woke Iris up. Even after fifty-two years of marriage, my dear wife still gets all emotional at the idea of two young people beginning a new life together." He was now wearing jeans and a flannel shirt that looked amazingly similar to his pajamas. He grinned, looking much more awake. "She thinks it's so romantic. It's been a long time since we've had young lovers show up at our door in the middle of the night." He smiled at Emma, a smile so kind that she wanted to cry. God, how vulnerable was she feeling? A smile from an old man could make her cry? "We've been worried about you, Emma. The whole town has. You'll be in good hands