Want Ad Wedding

by Neesa Hart

  “I understand.”

  His quiet assertion surprised her. There were depths to this man that she’d never even imagined. “How did you know?” she pressed.

  He reached for her hand. “I’ve spent most of my life being part of, but not really belonging to, the Reed family. I know what it’s like to be alone in a big group of people.”

  “I’m very close to my family.”

  “But you don’t always feel like you fit in?” She looked around where her siblings were packing up their belongings and their kids. The main event of the Duck Races Festival, the scholarship competition race, took place in the late afternoon. The Flynn clan would make their way to the grandstand where they’d find seats for the competition. “This makes me feel guilty.”

  “I told you to just tell them the truth.”

  “I did,” she said carefully. “They didn’t ask as much as they could have.”

  He nodded, skimming his thumb over her knuckles. “And it bothered you, didn’t it?”

  “Yes and no. I can’t explain it.”

  “It’s hard,” he said, sliding his hand up her arm to cup her elbow. He nudged her a little closer. “There’s a fine line between wanting your privacy and wishing people cared enough to dig a little deeper.”

  She searched his expression. Though it showed nothing unusual, there was something in the statement Molly found inexplicably sad. “Sam—”

  “Aunt Molly! Aunt Molly!” Katie came racing toward them across the hill.

  “Does she run everywhere she goes?” Sam asked Molly seconds before the little girl hurled herself into Molly’s arms.

  Molly hugged Katie close and looked at Sam. “She got that from me.”

  “Aunt Molly, thank you for my ball and pole thing,” she said referring to the tether ball set Molly had given her for her birthday. “I really like it.”

  “You’re welcome, Katie-Diddle. I’m glad you’re having a good birthday.”

  Katie squirmed loose, her attention fully on Sam. “Next time you come see me, if you come to my house, you can play with my—” She looked at Molly. “What’s it called again?”

  “Tether ball.”

  “Yeah. That.” Katie turned back to Sam. “Dad said he’d set it up. I bet I could take ya’.”

  Sam laughed. The rich chuckle soothed Molly’s shredded nerves like a glass of cognac. Sam braced his hands on his thighs and leaned over until his face was eye level with Katie’s. “I don’t know, I’m taller.”

  “But I’m quicker,” she insisted.

  “That may be true,” he conceded. He stuck out his hand. “Deal. Next time, we’ll play tether ball.”

  Katie grinned at him and gave his hand a hard shake. Her father called her name from across the hill. She gave Molly a quick kiss and said, “Bye. Gotta go.” She took off at a run toward her waiting parents.

  Sam shook his head. “Did you have that much energy when you were her age?”

  “Are you kidding?” Molly stood and picked up her empty soda bottle, deliberately casting off her lingering gray mood. She’d loved this festival for years. She wasn’t about to let brooding thoughts spoil the sheer pleasure of the afternoon. “I have that much energy now.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he assured her. “And counting on.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sam and Molly followed the Flynns into the seating area where they had a decent vantage point for the final heats of the races. Kelly tapped Sam on the shoulder. “Hey, Sam? Wanna try my b’nocalars?” She extended the hot-pink binoculars to him. “You can see the ducks better.”

  Sam accepted the plastic binoculars. “Don’t you need them?”

  “Nah. You seen one duck, you’ve seen ’em all,” she announced, indicating the medal she’d won in the heats earlier that day.

  Her father pulled her back. “Bottom on the seat, Kel. Quit bugging Sam.”

  Sam was about to thank her for the binoculars when Katie’s voice attracted the attention of the entire group. “Holy cow!” she exclaimed. “Who is that?”

  All eyes turned in the direction of the child’s pointed hand. A black limousine had stopped outside the gates of the fairgrounds. A party of three, one man and two women, was making its way toward the viewing stands. Other than their ostentatious black limousine, there was nothing remarkable about two members of the party. The man and one of the women were dressed casually in jeans and sweaters, blending in well with the rest of the crowd. But what had drawn Katie’s attention and was gradually drawing the attention of the entire population of Payne was the flamboyantly dressed woman in a bright yellow designer suit. She wore orange boots and an orange straw hat bedecked with yellow ostrich feathers. She carried a yellow parasol and an orange patent leather purse. As she alighted from the limousine and scanned the crowd, a frown marred her elegant features.

  Sam rolled his eyes in a combination of weary resignation and irritation. “That,” he said, rising to his feet, “is my sister.”

  “SAM!” Taylor Reed rushed forward to hug her brother. “Sam, I’m glad we found you.” She looked around at the large crowd. “This crowd’s as big as you said it would be.”

  “You sound surprised,” he drawled.

  Taylor shook her head. “Pleasantly surprised. I called Amy last night and told her that since you described this event, I’ve been dying to see the ducks.” She lowered her voice slightly. “And to meet your new friends.”

  Sam glanced at his brother who stood with one arm around his wife, just behind their flamboyant sister. “Ben.”

  “I tried to talk her out of it,” Ben assured him. “You know how she is.”

  Taylor affected a flirtatious pout. “For your information, I happen to like ducks.”

  Molly, who had walked toward the entrance with Sam, was watching the spectacle with fascination. She’d always believed that most celebrities had a secret longing to disappear into the crowd, to shed the watchful eyes of the press and public. Taylor Reed showed no such inclination. In her outlandish costume, she had leapt onto center stage and was holding it with ease. “I assumed you had neglected to invite us along today because you thought we wouldn’t enjoy it.”

  “I don’t suppose it occurred to you,” Sam said, his voice indulgent, “that maybe I was looking for a little privacy?”

  Taylor laughed with a tone that surprised Molly. It was genuine and warm, lacking the brittle artificiality she’d heard in the laughter of other socialites. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied to Sam. “Of course it occurred to me. I just chose to ignore it.”

  Sam’s smile was both benevolent and resigned. He liked his sister, despite or maybe even because of her flamboyance. “I should have known,” he muttered.

  Taylor nodded. “Indubitably. Besides—” the expression in her eyes softened as she squeezed Sam’s arm “—I wasn’t ready to let go of you yet.” An unspoken bond between the two seemed to strengthen. Molly noted the exchange curiously.

  Taylor then glanced at Molly. The soft look she’d given Sam was gone. In its place were curiosity and devilment. “This must be the one,” she told her brother.

  Molly took a deep breath and stuck out her hand. “Molly Flynn.”

  Taylor smiled—a wide, generous smile without a hint of guile—then gave her hand a firm shake. “Taylor Reed. You have no idea how glad I am to meet you.”

  Molly slid a glance at Sam. “Oh, really?”

  Sam indicated his brother. “This is my brother, Ben, and his wife, Amy.”

  Molly shook their hands. Amy was studying her with rapt attention. “It’s nice to meet you, Molly.”

  Amy looked around at the festivities with keen interest. “I can’t believe I’ve lived in Boston for five years and never knew this was here.”

  “Journalistic coverage has always been local. Word-of-mouth draws the crowd,” Sam told her.

  “We had twelve thousand last year,” Molly said curtly. “We’re not trying to compete with the Super-bowl, you know.�
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  Amy glanced at Molly. “Sam says there’s a scholarship involved here.”

  Surprised, Molly wondered how much Sam had told his family about today—and about her. “Yes,” she said. She briefly explained the responsibilities of the students who entered the annual event and the motive behind the scholarship. “It might not be the National Merit Scholar Program,” she said, “but we believe in it. These kids work very hard for this.”

  Ben’s nod was thoughtful. “I can see why you’d want to get behind this.”

  Taylor seemed to grow impatient without the reins of the conversation firmly in her grasp. Twirling her parasol, she exclaimed with keen delight, “I’m guessing Sam’s not in it for the ducks.”

  “Taylor—” Sam’s voice carried a note of caution.

  She swatted his arm lightly. “Well, you’re not.” She looked at Molly. “And now I know why.”

  Before Molly could respond, a loud voice on the intercom interrupted, urging spectators to take their seats before the first heat of the featured races. Taylor linked her arm through Molly’s. “This is so exciting,” she said. “I have always adored races, and I could never get Father to take me. He took Ben and Sam to the Derby once, but he wouldn’t take me.”

  Behind her, Sam snorted. “He was afraid you’d embarrass us.”

  Taylor clucked her tongue. “Oh, hush, Sam,” she admonished before turning back to Molly. “To be perfectly honest, I’m dying to know how in the world you tolerate him. He can be absolutely insufferable.” Despite the harsh words, Taylor’s expression was benevolent. The woman had a definite soft spot for her half brother.

  The voice on the intercom interrupted again, and Sam urged them back toward the stands. Taylor kept her hold on Molly’s arm. “You have to explain everything to me,” she told Molly. “Sam says you’re an absolute expert at this.”

  Molly frowned at him as he breezed past her and led the party back to their seats. Introductions were made, her family readily embracing Sam’s family, and they all settled in for the evening’s entertainment. Sam sat next to Molly and immediately reached for her hand. He cradled it tightly in his, watching the field with undue interest. Molly leaned toward his shoulder and whispered, “Did you invite your stepmother, too?”

  He looked surprised. “This wasn’t my idea. Taylor’s the one who wanted to come.”

  “But you told her about it.”

  “She asked me why I was rushing back to Payne this weekend,” he said, his tone pure innocence.

  Molly jabbed him in the ribs. “Admit it, Sam. You were fascinated by the idea of the races and you wanted to find out what would happen if someone other than the people of Payne came to see them.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Maybe.”

  “Bet you she’ll enjoy herself.”

  “What are you willing to bet?” he countered.

  Molly saw a caution flag at the slightly baited question, but ignored it. “I don’t know. Winner picks the prize.”

  “That could be dangerous.”

  “Maybe—if I weren’t so sure I was going to win.”

  “What are you going to make me do if I lose?”

  “Let me write the traditional piece about the duck races for the Sentinel’s Monday edition.”

  Sam thought it over. “All right.”

  His ready agreement made her suspicious. “That was too easy.”

  Satisfied, Molly relaxed. “Good.”

  He leaned a fraction closer to her, and she felt his warm breath on her neck. “Don’t you want to know what I’m going to make you do if I win?”

  “No,” she said bluntly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, as I told you this morning, I don’t think we should let this go to our heads.”

  “Too late,” he whispered. “It’s in my head, and in my blood, and I want you, Molly.” He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The brush of his fingers on her cheek sent goose bumps down her spine. “And whether you admit it or not, it’s inevitable and you know it.”

  “FOUL,” TAYLOR YELLED, and jumped to her feet. “Foul.” She was pointing to the field where the ducks were running the second heat of the night. “Where’s the referee? Where’s the umpire?”

  Amy Reed was laughing so hard her pretty features had flushed. “Taylor, sit down.”

  Kelly tugged on Taylor’s jacket. “There is no referee. That’s for football.”

  Taylor was not appeased. “But that duck crossed lanes. It was a deliberate foul.”

  “They’re allowed to do that,” Kelly said knowledgeably. “It’s not like normal racing.”

  “Yeah,” Megan chimed in. “There are no rules for the ducks. Only for the people who race ’em.”

  With an outraged huff, Taylor dropped back to her seat. “I liked that brown duck,” she said. “He was a fighter.”

  Molly darted a glance at Sam. He sat beside her, still holding her hand tightly in his, his words from before the race ringing in her ears. As they settled into the event, Taylor’s obvious enjoyment began to ease some of Molly’s tension. She felt simultaneously relieved and let down.

  Sam had not let go of her hand since the races began. She was unsure whether he was putting on a show for her family and his, or whether he genuinely wanted the contact. The thought frustrated her until she felt the gentle stroke of Sam’s thumb across her knuckles. This was not, he assured her silently, part of the pretense. Fresh in her mind was the haunted look on Sam’s face when he’d stood at her door last night. The surprise of finding him there, of seeing his exhaustion, had given way to a desire to ease the deep shadows she’d seen under his eyes. Before the day was through, she promised herself, she’d have answers to her questions.

  But now he was studying the field, apparently ignoring his sister’s avid and colorful commentary. “At least there’s no betting on the races. Your sister would probably lose the family fortune.”

  “Thank God,” he muttered. “I can only gamble so much in one day.”

  “The kids are enjoying her.”

  “Nearly everyone enjoys Taylor.” His tone was pure benevolence.

  On Molly’s left, Taylor was still protesting on behalf of the brown duck as she looked through the bright pink binoculars. “He should have won.”

  “Too skinny,” Kelly told her. “Skinny ducks don’t win.”

  Sam jabbed Molly in the ribs. “Told you.”

  She gave him a killing look. “Funny, Sam.”

  The ducks finished the heat, and Taylor dropped the binoculars to her lap. “Drat. I was pulling for the brown one.”

  Molly’s father leaned forward and began to explain to Taylor the intricacies of duck racing. The rest of the family chimed in with their own expert tips.

  Molly listened as the chatter around her grew. Sam’s family had joined hers with an apparent ease that left her feeling confused and inexplicably frustrated. It was easier to picture him leaving Payne without having seen this melding of their lives.

  The air turned slightly chill as the sun began to set. Sam’s hand felt warm where it still cradled hers. He rubbed the back of her knuckles again with his thumb. “You look perplexed,” he said softly.

  “They’re not what I expected,” she confessed. “Your family, I mean.”

  His expression turned slightly amused. “They’re usually not. Especially Taylor.”

  “I like her.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  Molly winced. “I guess I am, a little. I’m guilty of making assumptions I shouldn’t have.”

  “Thanks for admitting it.” He studied her for a minute. “And if it makes you feel any better, I am, too.”

  Molly lifted her eyebrows. Sam nodded. “Your family. I had other expectations.”

  “Oh?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t explain it. I didn’t think they’d take me in so readily.”

  That made Molly laugh. Poor Sam obviously didn’t have a clue a
bout the Flynns. “That’s what we do, Sam. Some families collect money or art or antiques. We collect people. That’s what it means to be a Flynn.”

  He thought that over. Finally, he glanced past Molly to where Taylor was involved in conversation with Kelly. “How much longer are you going to give her before you grill her about the birthday party next week?”

  If the stroke of his thumb hadn’t been making her pulse race, she might have laughed. Molly extricated her hand. “Another hour, I think. When she’s really intoxicated from the warm soda and hot dogs, I’ll nail her.”

  Sam’s mouth lifted into a grin. “I want you to go with me,” he said softly. “I’d like it very much if you would. I know it’s short notice.”

  Molly considered that. “You didn’t on Tuesday.”

  “I do now.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Seeing you and Taylor together,” he said. “And other things.”

  “Sam—”

  He shook his head. “I guess you could say I had different expectations.”

  Molly wasn’t sure how to take him. “You thought I wouldn’t make a good impression.”

  He frowned. “What gave you that idea?”

  “I don’t know. You seemed reluctant for me to meet your family.”

  “That had nothing to do with you,” he told her.

  Would he ever stop surprising her? she wondered. He’d returned his attention to the field. Molly studied his profile. “Sam?”

  “Hmm?” He kept his gaze trained on the starting line where the ducks were being positioned for another heat.

  “Are you ever going to tell me where you were last week?”

  When he turned to her, the expression in his eyes was so raw, it stole Molly’s breath. “Later. I’m enjoying the ducks.”

  She hesitated, but her curiosity gave way to his obvious need for time. She sent him a quick grin to ease the tension. “Can I quote you on that?”

  Sam chuckled. “All right. I concede. You can write the piece.”

  “Thank God you’ve finally seen reason.”

  “If,” he added, “we run it parallel with the historical perspective.”

  She nodded. “Deal. I think that’s fair.”