As I strode along a walkway outside of the county courthouse one town over from Dragonfly, my head was swimming with a general oh-shit feeling.

What the hell was I doing?

Married?

For a year?

Marriage was something I’d always thought I’d get around to someday. Someday later. Sure, I was thirty-four, but some days I barely felt like a grown-up, let alone someone capable of a long-term partnership.

It wasn’t like I’d had months of a relationship to get used to the idea, used to Chloe on that level. We’d been sleeping together for almost a week now, and I did mean exactly that—sleeping—but I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get completely used to having a woman in my bed, fully clothed, who I hadn’t ravished six ways to Sunday in the wee hours. I’d woken up rock hard more times than I was comfortable admitting to myself, and you can bet your ass I’d done everything I could to hide it from Chloe. That wasn’t part of our deal.

It was nearing our four p.m. appointment. Yes, we had a fifteen-minute slot to be united in holy matrimony—or unholy if you wanted to get technical. Chloe had barely made it out of work in time for us to drive the short distance to the county seat. Now she was inside in the restroom, changing clothes, getting ready for our wedding.

Could you still call it a wedding when it was in a courthouse?

Could you still call it a marriage if it was purely platonic and there was no consummation?

And that circled me right back around to, what the hell was I doing?

I was signing up for an entire year with no dates. No sex.

I wasn’t one of those guys who was led around by his dick and had to sleep with somebody every weekend, but I liked sex. I liked having the option. I liked women. I liked dating when I felt like it.

It was true that I hadn’t felt like it for a while now, but that was because Kemp and I were so wrapped up in our brewery plans. Between that and working long hours at Henry’s, I hadn’t made a lot of time for dates, and I guess I hadn’t met anyone worth dating lately.

However, having the option taken away made me itchy.

I swallowed that thought because it was a little late for it to crop up.

As I fought to keep my pacing nonchalant and unbothered, I pulled my phone out of my dress pants pocket. Six minutes till four. I pivoted to go back toward the door.