Save the Date

by Jenny B. Jones

  She missed Alex? How had this happened? She needed to lie down.

  He had been going from morning to night this week, and she had seen him very little. She missed his laugh, the smell of his expensive shampoo, and the way his hand automatically reached for hers.

  She steadied herself and gripped the porch rail as the thought struck her that she was no better than all those ladies before her who had fallen under Alex’s spell. But surely there was still time to fight it. With level-headed thinking and a little self-control.

  “Did you hear what I said?” Matt stepped closer. “I think you’re operating out of hurt. I did this to you, Lucy, and now you’re paying the price.”

  She forced her attention back to Matt. “No, I—”

  He drew her to him, crushing Lucy against his chest. “He can’t love you like I can.”

  “Campbell, you have two seconds to unhand my fiancée.”

  Lucy jumped at the voice behind her, her cheeks aflame.

  Alex stepped from the shadows and onto the porch, his face lined with fatigue and anger.

  Matt dropped his hands from Lucy and took a step back. “I was just—”

  “Leaving,” Alex supplied.

  “I just don’t want Lucy hurt,” Matt said.

  “I would never do that.” Alex turned fierce eyes to Lucy, and her heart stuttered. “But I would hurt anyone who touched her, so you might want to walk away now before that last cup of coffee kicks in and I get my second wind.”

  Matt’s shoulders collapsed as he gave Lucy one final appeal. “If you ever need me—”

  “She won’t.”

  Her heart was an azalea blossom, its petals falling to the ground and blowing away. “Good-bye, Matt.”

  “You know how to reach me.” Afraid to get too close to Alex, Matt stepped around him and walked to his car.

  It was so quiet Lucy could hear the stars blink. Alex remained in his spot at the edge of the porch, though he now reclined against a Georgian column, watching her fidget with her hands.

  She lingered five long seconds under his weighty stare before she finally spoke. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

  He regarded her through heavy-lidded eyes. “It looked like that guy had his hands on you.”

  “It was nothing.” The very idea that he could be jealous gave her a small, twisted thrill.

  “Tell that to the neighbors. Probably half of them took pictures and sent it to the Enquirer.”

  Just like that, Lucy deflated like a leaky balloon. His concern was just for appearances. “I guess Matt and I do have . . . history.” She was angry enough to punch that smug look right off Alex’s beautiful face. “He is the man I had intended to marry.”

  Alex closed the distance in three long strides. “And I’m the man whose ring you’re wearing.” Without taking his eyes off of her, he lifted her left hand and pressed an angry kiss to the glittering finger. “Or had you forgotten?”

  “No. I hadn’t forgotten.”

  “I don’t want to see Campbell again.”

  “If you hadn’t gone skulking about in shrubbery, you wouldn’t have.”

  “He’s a fool, and I don’t want you with him.”

  “Why are you here, Alex?”

  He planted his hand against the wall over her head and sighed. “I have no idea.”

  She could hardly concentrate as his finger toyed with the silver necklace at her throat, his touch setting her skin on fire. “Do you want to come in?”

  “I want to rip Campbell’s head off.”

  She peeled a wilting curl from her cheek and forced herself to ignore the rush of joy at his words. “You look beat.”

  “Long week.”

  “I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.”

  He ran a hand over the light stubble on his face. “I wanted to see my adoring fiancée.”

  Lucy laughed. “You do this really well, you know?”

  He tilted his head, then traced a finger along her cheek. “Who says I’m lying?”

  Her heart thudded twice. There was only one way to distract a man with that look in his eye. “Want something to eat?”

  In the kitchen, Lucy pulled out all the leftovers as Alex sat at the bar, his chin propped in his hand.

  “You gonna tell me what Campbell was doing here?” Alex asked.

  “He wants me back.”

  “You’re mine ’til September.” Weeks ago, those gruff words would’ve had her temper flaring like Roman candles. But tonight, something had shifted.

  “What is this?” He took a bite of meatball in tomato sauce.

  “Zombie guts.”

  “We should have these at our wedding.” He patted the stool beside him.

  Temptation was a six-foot-two man with a five o’clock shadow and an appreciation for monster-shaped snacks. The strongest of women couldn’t resist, and her immunity to him diminished by the day.

  She left her safe spot by the fridge and climbed up on the black leather stool. His knee brushed hers as he swiveled to face her. “Tell me about life with Clare this week.”

  “It’s getting easier.”

  “The snob lessons or accepting that she’s your grandmother?”

  Lucy studied the auburn tints in his dark hair. “Both.”

  He inspected another appetizer, one Julian had fashioned in the shape of a space ship. When he looked up, his serious expression had returned. “I’m sorry, you know.”

  “For what?”

  “How we all treated you back then. That the Deveraues denied you. Your life couldn’t have been easy.”

  It was like water on a parched desert, words she hadn’t even known she’d needed to hear. “I survived. I had a great mom.” Though not an altogether honest one. There were so many things she wanted to ask her. But it was too late.

  “You are who you are because of your life without Steven Deveraux.” Alex bit into a carrot. “And I personally am grateful for that.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “If I was engaged to a younger version of Clare, I’d have dumped you long before now.”

  She smiled and handed him another sandwich. “How were your meetings today?” He had toured the district, making strategic stops and talking one-on-one with people.

  “Successful. It was a great time to hear the interests of the voters. They got to see that I’m more than just some overpaid jock. We have some great ideas for some TV spots. Got some good footage we can use.” He spent the next half hour telling her about people he had met—a small business owner on the verge of bankruptcy. A single mom who just wanted insurance. A woman who had taught science for forty years and still couldn’t afford to retire.

  “I think you like this,” Lucy said.

  “You sound surprised.”

  At first, Lucy had assumed this was simply another diversion— another game—for Alex. But she was learning he had more than just his money invested in this campaign.

  Lucy rested a tentative hand on his. “Will would be proud.”

  She thought he would tense up, shut down. But instead he slowly nodded and clasped her fingers in his. “I hope so.”

  “So why did you stop by again?” Lucy asked.

  “Because I knew you were missing me, and I couldn’t deny you my studly manness any longer.”

  “I had a house full of men tonight.”

  “Cheap replacements.”

  Alex stood up and stretched his arms until his shirt pulled taut. “Well, unless you want to make out on the couch and pretend we’re watching a movie, I’ve got to go.”

  “I would, but my lips are already tired from Sanjay and Larry.” She stood and pushed in her stool.

  He didn’t smile, but instead studied Lucy as if weighing some heavy decision. He wrapped an arm around her, held tight, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re not what I expected, Lucy Wiltshire.”

  “Next time you stop by, I’ll have pom-poms.” Her arms just naturally slipped around his waist.
/>
  His lips curved into a languid smile as he watched her. “Have lunch with me tomorrow.” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “I promise I’ll make it memorable.”

  “That’s what all the boys say.” Her voice was a sigh.

  “Lucy?” His head lowered, his eyes searched.

  “Yes?” To his question. To his kiss. To whatever he wanted.

  “We should probably practice looking more engaged.” He wasn’t even trying to look sincere. “Just for the sake of believability, of course.”

  Electric currents of heat crackled between them until Lucy found herself somehow leaning against his chest. “Sounds grueling. Like two-a-days?”

  “Two-a-days are for amateurs.” Then his smile disappeared, and his lips descended.

  Lucy closed her eyes, tilted her head and—

  “Zombies!”

  Clare burst through the kitchen, her slippers smacking the tile floor. Lucy stepped far from Alex’s reach.

  “I need a little bedtime munchie. Don’t mind me.” Wearing a new My Heart Belongs to Frodo T-shirt over her silk blouse, Clare went straight to the refrigerator and stuck her head right in. “Yes, thought I would grab a bite to eat, some of these zombie sandwiches. I’ll probably be up for hours now.” She straightened and pinned her hawk-eyes on Alex. “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

  “No, ma’am.” Alex crossed his arms, looking innocent as an altar boy. “I was just telling Lucy about my campaign trip. A great time with the voters.”

  “Yes.” Clare bit into a pastry, snapping its head off with her teeth. “It seems you’re all about being hands-on.” She grabbed two more sandwiches and wrapped them neatly in a napkin. “Well . . . I think I’ll go on up to bed. Lucy, good night, dear.” Clare reached out a hand and gave Lucy’s shoulder an awkward pat. “Alex, good to see you, young man. We have a strict policy against sleepovers in this house, so don’t get any ideas.”

  “I’ll do everything in my power to resist Lucy’s invitations.”

  Lucy felt her cheeks redden even more. “I’m exhausted too. I’m going to bed.”

  “Sweet dreams.” Ever the doting fiancé, Alex pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek before letting his lips linger near her ear. “We’ll continue training tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  A retirement home?

  Lucy checked the address on her note again, then looked at the red brick building. Golden Meadows Retirement Village. This was her lunch date destination?

  She hopped out of the Civic and walked up the curving sidewalk to the main entry. A peal of female giggles greeted her, and she knew she only had to follow the sound to locate Alex. He could charm the Depends off an octogenarian.

  Today Lucy wore slacks and a fitted jacket from Macy’s that Clare had picked out for her. After the engagement party, the protector of all things proper had insisted Lucy return to the more conservative look, to save her retro taste for the moments where no one would see her. Like when she was at home. With the blinds pulled. Lucy had felt some satisfaction in her one act of rebellion—her rainbow covered underwear. But unless she split her pants, Clare would never even know.

  She found Alex in the cafeteria, surrounded by a handful of white-haired ladies and three men. His hair today was its usual mussed perfection—more respectable rock star than stodgy politician. It was young and hip, two adjectives she would never use to describe Matt.

  As if sensing her near, Alex glanced up. Smiled. And as those molten chocolate eyes locked on hers, Lucy felt something break loose. Might’ve been her heart. Might’ve been her good sense.

  She was not falling for him. In a matter of weeks, they were done. They would shake hands and walk away—he with his seat in Congress, and she with the deed for Saving Grace. This was just what every woman felt in the presence of Alex. The Sinclair allure was like a drug. Just a small taste and it fused into your system, humming through your blood and making you crave even more.

  But she could resist him. She was a smart girl. She would not be ruled by her hormones.

  Or that devastating smile.

  “Lucy, come join us.” Alex left his adoring groupies to meet Lucy halfway. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers in a quick kiss that went straight to Lucy’s knees like a thunderbolt.

  Must gain the upper hand here.

  He smiled as his forehead furrowed. “You look like you just ate some bad sushi.”

  “Just processing that last kiss.” She patted his bicep. “Were you trying to channel junior high?”

  His smile was lethal. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  They were standing in the middle of a retirement home. Lucy knew she was perfectly safe. “Maybe when your previous girlfriends said ‘you got game,’ they really were referring to your athletic abilities.”

  He took one menacing step closer until they were nose to nose. “You. Me. Tonight.” Her skin broke into gooseflesh. “I’ll pick you up at seven. No Clare. No Julian. Just the two of us, some candlelight, and dinner.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “Then I’ll show you game.” With one final smoldering look, he turned on his heel and went back to chatting about social security benefits.

  Lucy was left standing next to a table of cookies and watered-down punch, her brain locked in neutral. “Yeah,” she finally managed to say. “Well, I’ve got game too. Lots of totally gamey things up my sleeves.”

  With none-too-steady hands, she reached for a Dixie cup and poured herself some fruit punch. She tossed it back like tequila, only to have another one handed to her.

  “It’s okay, dear,” a woman said. A puff-paint rendition of Alex’s face stared back at Lucy from a shirt tucked neatly into turquoise polyester pants. “I talk to myself sometimes too.”

  “Oh.” Lucy clutched the cup and gave a wobbly smile. “I wasn’t—”

  “Nurse Hedley usually gives me a little purple pill afterward.” She gave a knowing wink. “I would share, but Medicare doesn’t cover them.”

  Lucy returned to Alex’s side just as his campaign manager walked away.

  “We have to do a craft before lunch.” Alex held up a handful of pipe cleaners.

  “That woman with the sun visor just offered me prescription meds, and I’m pretty sure the punch is spiked.”

  “It’s just Metamucil.” He checked his phone and shot off a quick text as he spoke. “Help me with this craft business, and I’ll take you anywhere you want when we’re done.”

  “Aliens Take Over Thailand just opened at the mall cinema.”

  “You have the worst taste.”

  “I know. You should hear who I’m engaged to.” She watched him break out his phone again. “Alex, focus. These are not people who understand an obsession with a cell phone.”

  He frowned as he put it down on a table beside him. “I need three of me.”

  “To usher in Armageddon? The world couldn’t handle that.” She held out her hand. “Give me the phone.”

  “No way.”

  Mr. MVP wouldn’t be able to turn down a challenge. “I don’t think you can go through the next thirty minutes without it.”

  “Thirty? That’s all?”

  “You won’t survive five.”

  He smiled for a pair of photographers there to capture the event. “Let’s make it interesting, shall we?”

  Heat was an unfurling bloom in her stomach. “What did you have in mind?”

  “If I win, you spend Fourth of July with me and my family—you know, the event you volunteered me for.”

  “And when you lose?” Drawing from Clare’s last lesson, Lucy composed her face into an expression a beauty queen would be proud of as the cameras clicked. Chin angled, eyes engaged.

  “I’ll take you to that stupid movie.”

  She held out her hand. “Done.”

  He took her hand, planted a warm kiss to her wrist. “Want to make out to seal the deal?”

  She took his phone and forced a sigh she didn’t feel. “I’d
probably fall asleep.” Lucy scanned the craft supplies on the table before them. She had taught enough Sunday school to know when she was looking at the makings of a bird feeder.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we’re about to begin.” Lucy couldn’t believe this was her voice coming out. Loud, clear, confident. Her social skills might’ve needed work, but she was a rock star with a glue gun. “Alex and I are so glad you invited us for craft time. As he talks about his ideas for expanding senior citizen benefits, I’m going to walk you through the process of building a lovely birdhouse. So take your seats, load up on punch, and let’s get to work.”

  Thirty minutes later Lucy glanced at her watch and saw her extended lunch break dwindling. She had dropped Marinell off at the children’s hospital with a promise to pick her up when her date with Alex was done. Grabbing her purse, she gave Alex a quick kiss and slipped out through the crowd.

  Driving down the highway, Lucy clenched the leather of the steering wheel. She had survived the retirement home, but her grip on her heart was another matter. Lord, help me to stay focused. Who am I to have wishful thoughts about Alex?

  She pulled into the parking lot of the children’s hospital and rode the elevator to the third floor. She was met in the hall by two nurses rushing out of the boy’s room, and Marinell standing in the doorway, sobbing.

  “What’s happening?”

  Marinell shook her head, the tears free-falling down her dark cheeks. “My brother . . . something’s wrong. He got sick. And couldn’t stay awake. All these nurses came and—”

  “Slow down, Marinell.” Lucy led her back into the empty room and into a chair. “What did the nurses say?”

  “Something about an infection. One of the doctors mentioned surgery. I couldn’t even understand all of it. My mom was moving today. She didn’t know where she was staying tonight. I have to tell her.” She sniffed and swiped at her nose. “His face . . . his color was bad.” Marinell’s shoulders shook as Lucy pulled her into a hug. “I’m so scared.”

  Lucy knew all about unfairness. About being responsible for more than you were ready for at eighteen.