A sense of well-being descended over Vince, of belonging. He was having a good time with family. He had a beautiful woman next to him. “Your dad doesn’t approve, Sam. Or either one of your uncles. And it’s safe to say your grandmother Gwen wouldn’t approve, either.”
“Speak of the devil,” Gabe said with a sly look in his eye. “Vince knows where Grandma Gwen is.”
There wasn’t enough time to regret Vince’s slip or whisper, It’s getting hot in here, to Harley.
“I guess now’s as good a time as any to announce...” Harley got to her feet and dragged Vince to his. She smiled and waved at Gabe. “Vince asked me to marry him. And I said yes.”
CHAPTER TEN
AS A KID, when Harley had imagined becoming engaged, she’d imagined a man who was sure he loved her to the clouds and back, and that he’d get down on one knee.
She hadn’t imagined blurting out an engagement to a man who she knew didn’t love her and who seemed dead-set against marriage and fatherhood. And if she would’ve imagined it, she would’ve also imagined he’d refute her statement.
Other than raising an eyebrow, Vince refuted nothing.
Which made the butterflies ecstatic.
“I can’t believe it.” Brit had rushed around the picnic table to hug them.
“I can’t, either,” Gabe mumbled, handing over a twenty-dollar bill to Joe. “I guess you win the bet, brother.” He came around to hug them both, as did Joe.
“This is depressing.” Irwin pushed his plate away. “First Joe comes back and I learn he’s not in a gang. And now the baddest Messina is getting married. Pitiful.” He shook his head.
“I take offense to that remark.” Gabe’s chin jutted. “I happen to be the oldest and the baddest Messina around.”
“Well, at least you’re single,” Irwin begrudgingly admitted.
Sam hugged Harley. “I want to be a bridesmaid. I like being a bridesmaid, even if the bachelorette party doesn’t have dancing cowboys.”
“What did you say?” Joe stuffed Gabe’s twenty in his wallet. “Who told you that nonsense?”
“Brad.” Sam stuck her little nose in the air and walked back to her seat. “His older sister got married last year.”
“What did I tell you about Brad?” Vince demanded of Joe.
“I’m gonna throw that kid in the river,” Gabe said.
“Stop.” Brit rapped her knuckles on the table. “Everyone just stop. This is supposed to be a joyous time for Harley and Vince. And I’m so full of questions, I don’t know where to start.” And then she disproved that last statement by rushing on. “How did he propose? I bet he had some romantic things to say. Did he ask you when he put his books down? Did you pick a date? Are you going to get married here? Or in Texas?”
“It’s getting hot in here,” Harley murmured, feeling exactly the opposite. The evening breeze was kicking up and she didn’t have a sweater.
Vince draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close, rubbing her bare arm. “We haven’t made any decisions yet. We’ll let you know as soon as we do.”
“And kids,” Brit piped up. “Have you talked about kids?”
Vince stiffened beside her.
“Lord love a duck.” Brit’s grandfather stood. “I’m done. I managed to stay out of most wedding discussions this week, I don’t need to listen to all this romantic drivel. I’d like to go home and I’d like someone other than Rex to drive me.”
Vince jumped up. “We can take you. Harley doesn’t have a sweater and it’s getting chilly.”
And in a moment Gabe was going to realize Harley’s announcement had derailed his conversation about their mother.
Harley got up. There was another round of hugs and congratulations. This time, Harley began to feel guilty. These were good people and she was deceiving them to act as a buffer for Vince.
Brit helped her grandfather into the backseat of the SUV and then hugged Harley a third time. “I thought there were just a few couples who might win the Couples Dinner, but now I have to add you to the list.”
“What is the Couples Dinner?” Vince asked from behind the wheel.
“It’s like that Newlywed Game they used to have on TV,” Phil said from the backseat. “It was Irwin’s idea, but apparently it’s a thing.”
“It’s a more coveted invite than to our wedding,” Brit agreed. “Rex and Irwin have said they’re offering prizes.”
“Idiot prizes,” Phil said none too softly.
Brit glanced over her shoulder at Joe and Gabe. “Can you believe those two? They’re betting on who’ll win Couples Dinner—you two or Joe and me.”
“Game on,” Harley said automatically, being a competitive perfectionist.
“Game on,” Vince mumbled when she’d closed her door and buckled in.
During the short drive into town, Phil dozed, snoring in the backseat.
“I don’t snore like Phil, do I?” Harley asked, searching for any conversation now that the bombshell had been dropped in their lives. By her, no less.
“It’s more like heavy breathing.” Vince drove down Main Street at a very sedate pace, perhaps worried that Mildred’s boyfriend Hero would alert the sheriff to him speeding. “At least when you snore, I know you’re alive.”
“Sorry...about before. First, I let the thing about your mom slip, and now this.”
“And we still have six more days to go.” Vince stopped at the town square and then turned right. His tone may have been calm but his features were carved out of ice.
Phil choked for a second and then uttered a sleepy admonishment about Vince not speeding up to stop signs.
“He didn’t,” Harley said.
Vince gave her the evil eye. “I think you’ve spoken up in my defense enough for one day.”
Harley pressed her lips together, which is what she should have done when the engagement thought flew into her head earlier.
Thankfully, Phil’s house wasn’t far off the town square. They escorted Brit’s grandfather to the door and then returned to the SUV. And then they were alone.
“Two days.” Vince’s voice was chilly. “Imagine how far our relationship can progress by next weekend.”
“You’re mad at me. I don’t blame you.” Harley was mad at herself.
Vince wasn’t listening. “We could announce your pregnancy tomorrow. Maybe an adoption by Wednesday. Oh, and by Friday we could skip Joe’s wedding completely and tell them we’re going to elope.”
“It was just a little slip.”
“Slips seem to happen around you.”
There was something sharp in his tone that prodded her humility. “It’s not like you haven’t had pretend girlfriends before. So now you have a pretend engagement. And next week you can have a pretend breakup.”
His jaw clamped together and he barely moved his arms as he steered through the turn that led to the bed-and-breakfast.
“I was just trying to protect—”
“Protect me. Yes, I know. That seems to be a theme of yours.” Vince pulled into the bed-and-breakfast’s driveway. “Stop doing that.”
“I will. Of course, I will.”
He held up a finger as if he’d just made an important discovery. “You know...” The hard planes of his face were shadowed by the large tree they’d parked under and the gathering twilight. “This means there will be kisses.” His voice sounded almost...triumphant.
“Oh, boy,” Harley huffed in disgust and practically threw herself out of the SUV in indignation.
But a tiny voice in her head whispered, Oh, boy, with a much different tone.
* * *
I’M ENGAGED TO HARLEY.
That statement engendered equal parts annoyance, dread and excitement.
Harley returned to their room alone while Vince sat in the dark dining room of the Lambr
idge B and B. He placed the books he’d taken from the garage on the table in front of him.
I’m engaged to Harley.
A fake engagement was something he’d expect of Gabe.
Or was that a shotgun wedding?
He’d known Harley was impulsive. He’d attributed it to her youth. He hadn’t expected her to be a watchdog. It made him smile to admit she had his back. Not that her announcement had done more than delay the inevitable discussion with his brothers about their mother.
I’m engaged to Harley.
The engagement was just a farce, of course. He wasn’t going to buy her a ring. He wasn’t going to worry that she’d have expectations when they returned to Texas. But it did give him carte blanche to put his arm around her, to keep her close, purely for pretend purposes—who knew what she’d say next?—and perhaps to steal that kiss they were both longing for.
The door to the bed-and-breakfast opened. Two men walked in.
“You waited up.” Gabe came to rest across the table from Vince, leaning on the formal chair back. “And here I am in before curfew.”
“I figured you’d want to talk.” Vince settled into his chair, looking at Joe, not Gabe.
“Mom’s in Texas.” Joe scowled. “You’re in Texas.”
“I told Gabe,” Vince said evenly, “we don’t talk.”
“No,” Joe said, visibly struggling to keep his voice down. “We don’t talk.” He gestured back and forth, Vince to Joe. “What good could possibly come from you having a relationship with Mom? She left us.”
“I told you, I don’t talk to her. And I didn’t tell you where she was because I knew you’d get upset.”
Joe came forward and sat in a chair at the head of the table. He pushed Vince’s books away. “Mom signed hall passes for you.”
“I...” This wasn’t the direction he thought the conversation would go.
“Don’t look at me.” Gabe pulled out a chair and sat. “She didn’t give me hall passes.”
“And she was gone before I wanted to get hall passes,” Joe added sharply.
“That’s because neither one of you worked in the garage.” How Vince wished Harley were here to hear that statement.
“I worked in the garage plenty.” Joe bristled.
Vince reached for his yearbook, flipping to a section in the middle for school activities. “You played sports.” He jabbed his finger at a picture of the football team.
Joe’s jaw jutted. “Your grades weren’t good enough for you to play.”
Gabe leaned forward. “Because he didn’t go to class enough. Why didn’t you go to class, brother?”
“You know why.” Vince’s throat was raw and that rawness came through in his tone. “Someone had to cover for Dad and fix cars.”
“Dad asked you to cover for him?” Joe scoffed. “I don’t believe that. When he needed help, he wouldn’t think to ask.”
“Dad didn’t ask me.” Vince reached for a hall pass, sliding it over the polished wood to Joe so he could see the authorizing signature. “Mom did.”
Joe shook his head. “Why would she do that? Why only you?”
“Because Vince could fix anything, don’t you remember?” Gabe picked up the hall pass and stared at it. “And I was too interested in girls to help, unless they made me.”
“And you only wanted to play sports.” Vince didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but it did nonetheless.
“Also, I was her favorite,” Joe said hoarsely. He got up and left. To his credit, he didn’t slam the door.
“We should talk more often.” Gabe spun the pass back to Vince.
“And by ‘more often,’ do you mean not at all?” Vince held his breath. He hadn’t realized until Joe walked out how important his brothers were to him.
Gabe stood, his face in shadow. “You’re so naive.” He turned, heading toward the stairs. “You should marry Harley. Women like her don’t come along every day.”
Vince blew out a shaky breath and centered his things in front of him on the table. Slowly, his head came down to rest on top of the photo album. He wanted to believe the worst of it was over, but it wasn’t. He hadn’t told them why Mom left...
Vince sat on the redwood table in the backyard. I want to go back to school. He had an algebra test that afternoon.
Your father needs you at the shop. Mom took a deep drag on her cigarette and picked at her cuticles. She’d torn the skin around her nails until they bled. Eat your sandwich and forget about school.
No. Vince threw his baloney sandwich on the ground. He liked school. He liked math.
As if on cue, Dad started shouting. Something wasn’t going right in the garage.
I can’t do it anymore. Mom started to cry.
Something wasn’t going right at home, either. Vince’s stomach roiled.
He’s getting worse. She stared at Vince with hollow eyes. You’ll have to quit school.
Vince lifted his head. He’d been selfish. He should have dropped out of school.
Back at the B and B, he picked up his books and with leaden feet drifted down the hall. Harley had left the door unlocked. She was far too trusting. And too impulsive. And too generous. She needed someone to watch out for her.
I’m engaged to Harley.
He stood with his back against the door a long time before he went to bed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HARLEY WOKE TO Vince sitting on his bed, looking as if he hadn’t slept.
“If this is what being engaged does to you...” she said, pushing herself up and finger-combing her hair. Her stomach was in the neutral zone, neither friendly nor ready to make war on her equilibrium. “I say we call the whole thing off. I kept you awake all night with my snoring, didn’t I?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been wondering why a smart woman like you ended up in a situation like this.” There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin. “An architect working as a tiler.”
Harley considered his words as carefully as she considered him. “Why does it matter? You needed a wingman and I was available.”
“You distract me.” He was wearing the same T-shirt and basketball shorts he’d had on yesterday. They were rumpled. He hadn’t changed. “You didn’t used to.”
“I didn’t used to come to your rescue, either.”
“No.” He stood and reached over to brush Harley’s hair into what she hoped was some semblance of order. His fingers traced the path Harley used when she brushed her hair, over the ears, toward the crown, down the back.
It was intimate. It was loving. It made butterflies swoon. And if they’d been in Waco, Harley would have been his.
But they weren’t in Waco. They weren’t engaged. They weren’t even dating.
Vince didn’t retreat when he was done. He continued to stay next to her, staring at her as if she was a set of steps he had to build using a nonstandard angle. “Why did you quit being an architect? Tell me straight.”
The question caught her by complete surprise.
At her hesitation, he hinted at bridal-couple indulgence, “Pretend you’re telling your fiancé.”
Pretend? She’d never be able to pretend again.
“Okay,” Harley said, feeling as if her entire body was blushing.
Close. He was too close. Butterflies trembled with anticipation.
She gulped, cautioning butterflies and hearts to be realistic. “I told you, I draw buildings.” Harley reached beneath her pillow for her sketchbook. She flipped a few pages open quickly, embarrassed by all the characteristics her brother Taylor had associated with her drawings. They were loopy and unclear in form. They were cartoonish and had no basis in reality. They couldn’t be built.
“They’re unique.” Vince sat on the bed next to her. “But I wouldn’t go so far as to say they can’t be buil
t. Think of all the impossible structures out there. The pyramids. The Taj Mahal. That ball in Epcot Center.”
Had she really whined out loud? She closed the book and dropped it in her lap. That’s where her gaze landed, too.
“And the problem that led to your quitting happened...?” he prompted softly.
Harley twisted the hair he’d combed, bringing her gaze up to his. “Architecture is stuffy for a reason. There are two branches. In the first are those who build things, anything from basic houses to tall, gloriously twisted skyscrapers.”
“And in the second?”
“Those in the second branch live in the truly creative side, the completely impractical side.” She tapped her sketchbook, warming to the topic. “They refine designs and enter them in competitions—not to be built, but to be admired for their vision, for the impossibility, for the future.”
His gaze was sincere and accepting.
Harley drew a deep breath. “When I first began drawing buildings, I didn’t realize there were two branches. I saw movies and cartoons where characters lived and worked in impossible structures.”
“The sky’s the limit.” He took her hand and it seemed right, sharing a room, sharing a confidence.
“Exactly. And when I went to work, I’d already won some awards. I’d gotten a lot of job offers out of college and I was a bit high on myself.”
“Ah, pride goeth before a fall. No wonder you rejected my honor and pride rule.”
“Indeedy.” She opened the sketchbook to a page. The Page. Her stomach gave an early indication that it wasn’t back to normal. “The City of Houston requested submissions for a playhouse. I went to my boss and showed this to him, knowing the balconies couldn’t be built, but hopeful that he’d respect my design and build upon it in his submission.”
“He stole your design.” Vince let go of her hand.
“No. Kind of.” She was tap-dancing, trying to protect her pride, when she shouldn’t. Not with him. “I mean, I was employed by him and had gone to him with it, so he had every right to use what I’d created.” Her voice weakened as she talked, until it became a whisper. “I just didn’t expect him to use it as it is. Every impossible curve.”
Marrying the Wedding Crasher Page 12