“Get to it, young lady. What are you doing here?” Bridget wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her father this angry, this hurt.
“Just tell us you’re not married,” Jay put in.
“She can’t be married,” Frank Emerick barked. “Not without telling me and her sisters and brothers. Running away like a common thief. She would never do that. The real question, Bridget Marie, is whether you’re living here in sin with that uppity, pretty-boy snob.”
Tripp stiffened behind her.
“She is not living in sin,” Jay said coldly. “She wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Never did like that boy,” her dad growled. “If you ask me, he never appreciated you. Always thought he was too good for the rest of us common folk.”
“Daddy!” she protested. “Tripp never acted like he was too good for us. He and I were best friends. We still...” She faltered, but it was too late. “We still are.”
“He took advantage of your good nature,” her father insisted. “And he still is. Dragging you up here to this godforsaken place.”
Jay gave Tripp a very chilly once-over. “Much as it pains me, Bridget, I tend to agree with your father. Your association with Mr. Ashby was very ill-advised.”
“Listen, pal—” Tripp began, in a soft, dangerous tone, but she put her hand on his arm to hold him back.
“Please, no more trouble,” she whispered to him. “Things are bad enough as they are.”
Her father muttered, “Living in sin with a rich boy. Bridget Marie, if your mother were alive today, she’d turn over in her grave. You were raised better than that!”
“Daddy, I swear, we are not living in sin.”
“Is that true?” Frank Emerick turned to Tripp for confirmation.
“Definitely,” he managed around a fiercely clenched jaw.
“So you’re either not living here...” But one look at her pajamas and bare feet made that unlikely. “Or you’re married.”
“Bridget, please tell me you’re not married,” Jay said softly.
She took a deep breath. “But I am. Married, I mean. Tripp and I are married.”
“You are?” her father bellowed. “When Jay came to get me, spouting some poppycock about you running off to Las Vegas, I didn’t believe it. My daughter, who has always been so smart, so responsible, running off to Las Vegas? I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it!”
“It’s Lake Tahoe,” Jay told him.
“Same damn thing!” her father exploded. “Married? And without your family? How could you?”
As he readied himself for another volley, Bridget held up a hand for silence. In a panicky voice, she explained, “Yes, Tripp and I were married yesterday. But it’s not what you think. It’s just for show.”
“Just for my mother.”
“Just for a little while.”
“And then we’ll get an annulment.”
Bridget added, “Because there’s nothing going on that can’t be annulled. Nothing of a marital sort of nature. We’re just pretending.”
“Just for my mother.” As if they had practiced this act, Tripp finished up, “She’s very ill, and we don’t want to upset her. So for right now, it’s important that we keep her in the dark, that we let her think this is a normal marriage, a normal honeymoon.”
“A normal marriage? A normal honeymoon?” Jay demanded. He was definitely losing his trademark cool. “While you were already engaged to someone else?”
“But she doesn’t know that,” Bridget murmured. “Kitty Belle is dying. The one thing she wanted was for Tripp to get married. So we gave her that, as a gift. Was that so wrong?”
“Yes, it was.” Jay backed up a step and looked away, at a tree, as if he’d rather look at anything but her. “How could you, Bridget? This is a disaster. This displays a phenomenal lack of judgment. I’m just appalled that the woman I wanted to marry could be so selfish, so shortsighted, so...”
“Human?” Tripp asked darkly.
Once again, she held him back. “I’m sorry, Jay. I did what I thought was best for Tripp and his mother. Tripp is my friend. And there wasn’t anyone else.”
Her father was taking a moment to digest this news. “Whatever foolishness you and this Ashby fellow have been up to, it’s not his mother’s fault. I don’t suppose it would serve any purpose to disillusion a dying woman,” he said grudgingly.
“Thank you, sir,” Tripp said in a tight, uncomfortable voice.
“Thank you, Daddy. I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here.” She hazarded a glance at Jay, wondering how this could possibly be fixed. He was hurt and disappointed, and it was all her fault. “But it was a completely unnecessary trip. Everything is fine. Everything will continue to be fine.”
She linked her arm through her father’s, drawing him and the rest of their little group back around to the front of the cabin. “Well,” she said, standing next to their car. “I hope you can forgive me. Once you’ve had some time to think about it, to get used to it, we can talk all you want. In the meantime, have a good trip back.”
“Back?” Frank Emerick stilled. “What do you mean, back? We’re not leaving yet.”
“You’re not?”
“Of course not,” put in Jay. “We have rooms at the Pine Cone Resort. We’re staying indefinitely.”
“But you can’t!” Bridget protested.
“Well, we are.” Jay’s expression was implacable. “I couldn’t leave you here with him.”
“I still don’t trust him,” her father grumbled. “When we’re satisfied that you’re all right, that this is on the up-and-up and you’re not being taken advantage of, then we’ll leave. And not before. We’ll go check in at the Pine Cone and then we’ll be right back here.” Shaking a finger, he skewered Tripp with a ferocious glare. “I’m going to make sure there isn’t any funny business going on with my daughter.”
“There’s no reason to stay,” Bridget tried, but they were immovable.
“We’re staying,” Frank insisted. “If need be, we’ll set up camp on your mountain here. I’m not leaving my daughter alone with the likes of him.”
“But...” Bridget grabbed Tripp’s arm. “What will we tell Kitty Belle? She thinks that crazy old coot from the general store is my father. And we certainly can’t tell her Jay is my fiancé!”
“What?” her father exploded. “You told her someone else was your father?”
“Bridget!” Jay said, outraged. “Is there no end to the lies you’re willing to tell?”
“All right, all right,” Tripp began, in a very determined tone. “Calm down. This was all my fault.”
“I know,” Bridget said suddenly. “We could give them fake identities, too.”
“Fake identities?” her father and Jay trumpeted in tandem.
“If Jed can do it, you can do it,” she offered.
Tripp squeezed her arm. “Bridgie, that’s a great idea. Your dad could be...oh, I don’t know, your uncle. How about that? Uncle...Joe. What do you think?”
“I think you’re all crazy!” Frank Emerick shot back. “Pretending to be someone else. I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous in my life.”
“If you want to stay, you can’t be my dad, because Kitty Belle thinks I already have one,” Bridget explained again. “You have to be Uncle Joe. Take it or leave it.”
“This is outrageous!” he blustered.
“And I suppose I’m supposed to go lurking around as another uncle?” Jay demanded.
“Uncle?” Tripp said doubtfully. “Maybe he should be a brother.”
“A brother? You can’t be serious!”
“Well, you hardly want Kitty Belle to know who you really are, or anyone else in Lake Tahoe, for that matter,” Bridget told him. “After all, this is a gambling mecca, which would screw up your image all by itself. And besides, how it would look for a prominent senatorial candidate to be hanging out in Lake Tahoe in some kind of ménage à trois with his fiancée and her other husband?”
&nb
sp; “Ménage à trois? I didn’t think my daughter knew about things like that! Where did you learn about things like that?”
“Daddy, it’s not really a ménage,” she explained, horrified. “It just might look like it to the voters.”
It took a good half hour of wrangling and fighting, but she finally impressed upon them the importance of going undercover if they were bound and determined to stick around. Both Jay and her father were very stubborn men, and they insisted they weren’t going anywhere. Which meant they finally agreed to be Uncle Joe and Brother Jay for the duration.
As she watched their rental car disappear down the winding road, Bridget reluctantly retreated to the Studs cabin, where even now, Tripp was probably carting her things down to the Chamber of Horrors.
“This is no way to run a honeymoon,” she said under her breath. “No way at all.”
Chapter Twelve
“Of course your family must stay for dinner,” Kitty Belle announced. “I’m delighted they’re all here.”
She seemed to have perked up considerably since this morning, and she was even dragging tables and chairs around to make sure there was enough room for everyone to sit down.
“You know, Bridget,” she mused. “Your uncle is quite charming. A little gruff, but just as sweet as he can be. I must say, your brother is very charming although just a wee bit stern, don’t you think? And I really don’t see the family resemblance there.”
“He, uh, takes after the other side,” she said quickly.
“Would you like to call them in, dear? They should be back from their walk in the woods by now.” She peeked into the kitchen. “And I think Tripp is ready with dinner.”
“But, Mrs. Ashby, you’ve set six places. There are only five of us.”
“Oh, dear. I guess I neglected to mention that your father would be joining us.”
“My f-father?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Kitty Belle smiled brightly. “It was the most amazing coincidence. I happened to pop down to the store out on the highway. I needed some moisturizer desperately. You know, it’s so very dry up here—”
She didn’t know which was more astonishing, the idea of Kitty Belle popping down the highway, or using moisturizer she’d bought over the counter at a dusty convenience store.
“And who should I run into but your dear father? So of course, knowing that your brother and uncle had turned up, I invited him to join us.” Kitty Belle paused. “Is he similarly estranged from them, too, dear? He is a bit rough around the edges, isn’t he?”
“My f-father?” Bridget repeated.
“Yes, dear.” She pointed out the big front window, where a battered truck, trailing a cloud of black smoke, had just pulled up in front of the cabin. “There he is now.”
And so they sat down together at the big round table, eyeing each other suspiciously, everyone trying hard to remember who they were supposed to be.
Jed Leland, the man from the general store, didn’t seem to mind that no one knew quite what to make of him. Unconcerned to play another round as Bridget’s father, he chowed down happily while Tripp was still bringing in dishes.
“Well, Dad, isn’t it nice to see Uncle Joe and Jay again?” Bridget asked stiffly.
“Yes, of course, Dad,” Jay said distastefully.
Old Jed’s bushy eyebrows shot up to his receding hairline. “He’s mine, too?”
“That’s right.” Tripp’s eyes were dancing with mischief. “I guess it’s been a while since you saw your son.”
“Seems like forever, don’t it, kid?” Jed asked cheerfully.
Bridget decided it was a good thing someone was enjoying this charade.
“Now, you’re Bridget’s uncle, correct?” Kitty Belle inquired politely, as she offered the real Frank a basket of bread. “So does that make you Frank’s brother? Or are you Bridget’s mother’s brother?”
Her dad thought about it for a long moment, wrinkling his brow with concentration. Finally, after a long look at Jed, Frank allowed, “I can’t claim any relation to him. I’m Mrs. Emerick’s brother. Margie, who would be my late, uh, sister, yes, that’s right—well, anyway, Margie was a real beauty. Bridget, and her sisters Patty and Linda, too, all take after their mother. Real beauties, every one.” Proud of himself, he winked at Bridget.
“And isn’t that odd?” Kitty Belle mused. “All the girls resemble their mother, and yet their brother has a very different look.”
“Reckon the boy takes after my side of the family,” Jed put in, yanking his polyester pants up over his gut.
Bridget kicked Jay, who said, “Who, me?” He took one look at Jed, the father he supposedly resembled, and began to choke.
Bridget lost track of the conversational threads after a while; it was just too tough to keep up. But it didn’t matter. Kitty Belle seemed quite happy to chat with “Uncle Joe” and tune out the rest of their soggy attempts to be polite to one another.
In no time, Bridget’s real dad was leaning in closer to Kitty Belle, telling her all his favorite plumbing stories about St. Paul, and she was tittering appreciatively.
“So you and your brother-in-law are both plumbers. Now isn’t that interesting?”
“Me and my...?” It took Frank a moment to get the gist of that one. “Oh, me and my brother-in-law. Him over there. Right. Yes, we’re both plumbers.” He sent a searching glance to his daughter. “Are we?”
“Yes, you are,” she prompted.
“Although I understand that Bridget’s father has retired. Isn’t that right, Frank?”
“Huh?” Jed said with a start. “Oh, sorry. Must’ve dropped off there. Retired? Why, yes, I am. Being a farmer, oh, sorry, I mean a plumber, well, that wasn’t the life for me.”
“And isn’t it wonderful that Frank has retired right here to Lake Tahoe?” Kitty Belle informed them. “Why, he’s running the general store out on Route 28.”
“Is that right?” Tripp asked dryly.
But his mother had returned to her fascinating discussion with the real Frank. “Now, you haven’t retired yet, have you, Joe?”
“Who? Oh, Joe. Uncle Joe. Right. That’s me! No, no. I haven’t retired. They’ll have to bury me with my snake in one hand and my plunger in the other.”
Kitty Belle tapped him playfully on the arm. “Oh, aren’t you amusing!”
“If you were going to make me your brother, couldn’t you have provided a more acceptable father?” Jay muttered ominously. “That man is beyond the pale.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered back. “Do you think I like him?”
Thank goodness they were all the way across the table, and Kitty Belle was all wrapped up in their dad. She didn’t seem to notice the heated discussion going on between Bridget and Jay.
“I’m sorry to break this up, but I think my wife is getting tired,” Tripp announced, rising to his feet, signaling an end to this interminable dinner. “We had a long day yesterday.”
“And a long night,” Kitty Belle said knowingly. When the others turned to her, shocked, she shrugged unrepentantly. “They’re honeymooners, for heaven’s sake. They’re supposed to be up all night.”
Jay was bristling, her father was looking very suspicious, and Bridget felt her face flame with embarrassment. As she suffered, not sure what to do to make everyone stop glowering at her, Tripp pulled her to her feet, dropping an arm around her shoulders. He brushed a tender kiss on the top of her head. “Well, everyone, this has been great. We’ll have to do it again soon.”
Over my dead body, Bridget thought darkly.
Tripp began to clear away the plates on the table, and Bridget jumped to help him.
“I guess we should be getting back to the Pine Cone,” her father remarked. He gave his daughter a meaningful look. “If Bridget is sure she doesn’t need us.”
“You’re staying at a motel?” Kitty Belle asked, aghast. “Why, there’s plenty of room here. We have two extra bedrooms upstairs, and as long as you and your nephew don’t mind shar
ing a bath, we’re all set.”
“Now there’s a good idea,” Frank Emerick decided. “We can save some money and keep a closer eye on Bridget, all at the same time.”
“I don’t think so—” Tripp and Bridget chorused, but the ship that was known as Kitty Belle had already sailed.
With Frank trailing in her wake, Mrs. Ashby cruised up the stairs, chattering on about linens and pillows.
Jay hung back. As soon as the others were out of earshot, he bent over closer to Bridget. “I’ll be right upstairs if you need me,” he said meaningfully.
“Don’t speak to my wife that way,” Tripp snarled back.
“She’s my fiancée.”
“Not anymore she’s not.”
“Oh, yes,” Jay said distinctly, “she is. Unlike your wedding, our engagement is no sham. One you and my fiancée have quit playing house, she will have a real life to come back to.”
“I will?” she whispered. She hadn’t been altogether sure.
“You will.” Jay took her arm possessively. “Although Mr. Ashby here has done his best to ruin your life and my career, I think we can still salvage things if we’re careful. Be careful, Bridget.”
“Get your hands off my wife.”
“Stop it. Stop it this instant. I’m not some bone to be fought over.” She removed Jay’s hand from her arm. “Go to bed, Jay. We’ll talk in the morning.” Softly, slowly, Bridget told him, “I know how hard you’re trying to be fair to me. But let’s just wait until tomorrow, okay?”
She and Tripp roused Jed and got rid of him, and then, wordlessly, they cleared away the dinner dishes. It was almost as if they were really married. Almost.
As soon as the last plate was in the dishwasher, Tripp led the way to his room. Their room.
Bridget stopped inside the door, her hand still on the handle, as she gazed at the big bed. One big bed. They didn’t have any choice. To keep up the pretense, they were going to have to share this room. And that meant sharing the bed.
“Don’t worry,” Tripp said roughly, following the path of her eyes. He grabbed a pillow and a quilt. “I’ll take the floor.”
Once Upon a Honeymoon (Harlequin American Romance) Page 17