That was when she happened to glance at her mother’s azalea bush.
And her heart stopped for a second as what she was looking at registered.
“It’s blooming like crazy,” she said in a hushed voice, more to herself than to Shane.
“What is?” he asked. Was saying something out of left field Cris’s way of diverting him from the subject?
“The azalea bush.” Cris pointed straight at it. “Mama’s azalea bush, it’s blooming.”
“And it’s not supposed to at this time of year?” he asked. He didn’t know the first thing about plants, much less what they were called or what they were supposed to do. But judging by the look on Cris’s face, this was an event worth noting.
“Not right now,” she replied, still staring at the bush in wonder.
Maybe this was the omen she was looking for, Cris thought. Maybe this was a sign that she was supposed to take Shane up on his offer.
Or was she just grasping at straws?
As she looked at Shane, it occurred to her that he probably didn’t know about the bush and most likely thought she had lost her mind and was babbling.
So she told him the story behind the azalea bush.
“The day of my mother’s funeral, someone gave my father a potted azalea plant. Silvio, our gardener, planted it in the garden on this side of the inn the same day within view of the porch. He remembered that my mother liked to sit on the porch at night.
“The azalea blooms almost all year-round,” she went on. “When Uncle Dan, Wyatt’s dad, died, the bush suddenly looked like it was fading. It died back and we thought it was all over for the bush. But when Wyatt asked Alex to marry him and she said yes, the azalea exploded with blossoms.” Her mouth curved in a fond smile, connecting to a faraway yesterday. “Dad likes to say that was Mama’s way of showing how she felt about something. In this case, it’s how she feels about Alex and Wyatt getting married. I might be crazy, but it looks as if it’s suddenly blooming again. I didn’t even notice it when I came out here—not until you commented.” Maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part. Maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see.
But she couldn’t convince herself that she was just imagining it.
Shane was willing to go along with the myth of the azalea bush. He’d never been a skeptic about things his intellect could not sort out.
“Well,” Shane drawled, “I’m no expert but maybe it is your mother, letting you know she thinks what I suggested is a good idea.” He grinned at her nonchalantly, yet somehow it seemed extremely intimate. He had it all worked out. He was nothing if not detail oriented. “We can fly to Vegas, get married and be back by tomorrow night. Maybe even in time for you to make dinner for the guests,” he speculated, knowing how wedded she was to her schedules.
Cris was still vacillating. “I feel terrible—”
“Not something a man wants to hear when he proposes marriage,” he pointed out.
“A marriage in name only,” she reminded him. “You’re doing all this for me and I’m not doing anything for you in return.”
“Now there you’re wrong,” he contradicted. “Being around you and Ricky and the rest of your family reminded me what it felt like to belong, to have people around who cared if you lived or died—who cared if you showed up in the morning.”
There was gratitude in his eyes as he told her, “I’ve felt more alive these past few weeks, working on your family’s inn, than I have since my wife died. I figured there was no way I could pay you back for that—but now there is. I can do something to help you keep your own little family unit together. And those private investigators you were worried about—”
He had her attention. “Yes?”
“They’re going to be very disappointed and very bored. I didn’t even borrow that hypothetical crayon you mentioned earlier. I was so honorable that I didn’t even tell a girl in high school how I felt about her because she was going with this guy she was crazy about and I didn’t want to spoil it for her.”
“So you never told her?” she asked incredulously.
He looked at her for a long moment before shaking his head slowly and answering. “No.”
“What happened to her?” Cris wanted to know, her eyes never leaving his. Something about the story had struck a nerve.
“She married the other guy,” he answered in an unsettlingly low voice.
Something wouldn’t allow her to let the story he’d just told her go. “And she was happy?”
Shane nodded. “Never saw anyone so happy,” he confirmed.
Another question rose to Cris’s lips, but she refrained from asking it. Refrained because if she was wrong in what she was thinking, she would feel like a complete idiot. Besides, she was barely holding herself together as it was.
Again, she looked toward the azalea for some kind of guidance. If she didn’t know better, she would say that the bush had sprouted even more blossoms since a couple of minutes ago.
Was that even possible?
You’re just seeing what you want to see. It’s not a magic bush.
“You’re a good person, Shane McCallister,” she said with affection. She placed her hand on Shane’s shoulder, making physical as well as verbal contact.
“That’s because I was an Eagle Scout.” He added in a deadpan tone, “Remind me to show you my badges some day.”
He was kidding, but the statement sparked something serious in her mind. “I was considering enrolling Ricky in the Cub Scouts. Maybe you can give him a few pointers when the time comes.”
“Would love to give him pointers,” he said, and paused. Finally, unable to take the suspense any longer, he asked, “So? Have you had time to think about it? Would you like to have your name associated with that of a deadly dull general contractor?”
The way he phrased it had her laughing. “You certainly don’t know much about salesmanship, do you?”
“If you mean would I give up honesty to sell someone on something, then no, I wouldn’t, so I guess that in turn means I don’t know the first thing about decent salesmanship,” he conceded.
“Trust me. What you lack in salesmanship, you more than make up for with heart. And kindness. Lancelot wasn’t considered a dull man—but beneath his fancy coat of mail he was a pretty ordinary guy. Nevertheless, he got to ride to the rescue a lot. Like you.”
“Except that I don’t actually ‘ride to the rescue’ a lot,” he corrected. His eyes held hers as he said, “Just this once.”
“If you do this right, once is more than enough,” she told him, her voice dropping to a whisper. Her heart was racing. She was considering doing this, she was actually considering it, she thought.
What “considering”? She was going to accept Shane’s offer.
“Just so we’re clear,” Shane asked, because heaven knew, he wasn’t at all clear at this point, “is that a yes?”
She nodded very slowly as she told him, “Yes. It’s definitely a yes.” She put her arms around his neck and rose up on her toes. “Yes,” she whispered again for good measure, more strongly this time.
When he brought his lips down to hers, sealing the bargain, Cris could have sworn she heard more blossoms—if it was at all possible—push their way out to cover the azalea bush.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SHANE REALIZED, AS he drew his head back, that he had gotten caught up in the moment and slipped. And while, judging by Cris’s response, she had enjoyed the brief kiss, he knew it shouldn’t have happened. It didn’t exactly go very far in building her confidence that he intended to keep things between them platonic.
Under no circumstances did he want her to entertain the concern, even for a second, that he might force himself on her. That wasn’t why he had offered to marry her.
So, pulling himself together, Sha
ne said, “I want you to know that just because I kissed you now, you have nothing to worry about from me. That kiss was simply to seal our bargain,” he explained, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “Even though I’ll have to move into the inn, it’s strictly for appearances. The MacDonalds’ investigator would think it odd if we maintained separate home addresses.”
“I agree,” Cris said, even though a part of her couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. It felt like something out of a Jane Austen book, or at the very least, a book written in or about that era. A marriage-of-convenience book that chronicled decorum, not strong emotions such as love or passion. “For appearances,” she echoed. “How long do you think—?”
She left the rest unspoken, not quite knowing how to frame the question without sounding as though she didn’t want to be tied to him. She didn’t want to insult him or hurt his feelings.
Shane filled in the rest of her question, instinctively knowing what she was trying to ask. He honestly couldn’t give her a number because he didn’t know.
“As long as it takes, I guess. Until the MacDonalds back off and decide it’s not worth their time and effort to pursue the matter.”
She had a feeling that Marion would continue looking for a way to take Ricky from her out of sheer spite. “In other words, until Ricky’s eighteen.”
“I wasn’t figuring it would go on that long, but technically, it could.” He looked at Cris for a long moment, thinking that if what he’d just said came to pass, he’d wind up taking a lot of cold showers. “Are you prepared for that eventuality?”
“It wasn’t me I was worried about.” And it wasn’t. She was concerned about him. This was a potentially long “jail sentence” for him. “Are you? You’re pretty much putting your life on hold indefinitely by doing this.”
“So are you,” Shane pointed out.
That wasn’t quite true. “Ricky is my life. Any time that might be left over goes toward my family and keeping the inn in business.” Another reason she wouldn’t have allowed her father to risk a second mortgage on the inn to cover her legal costs, she thought. Losing to the MacDonalds would be disastrous for the inn as well as the family. “But you—what if tomorrow, or next week, the woman of your dreams crossed your path? You wouldn’t be free to do anything about it. Wouldn’t be free to explore your options because, as far as the public is concerned, you’re already married to me.”
He congratulated himself on keeping his feelings for her sufficiently buried so that she hadn’t made the connection. With any luck, she never would and he would just be remembered as “the friend” who came through for her.
“The chances of that woman popping up out of the blue are pretty astronomical,” he scoffed.
Stranger things had been known to happen. “But say she did, then what?” Cris pressed.
“I’ll handle it if the matter comes up,” he promised her, dismissing the subject. “Right now, the immediate problem is to secure Ricky’s mailing address—and to make sure it’s the same as yours.”
Cris took a deep breath, still trying to steady her nerves. She was lucky Shane was being so willingly helpful, she thought.
“You’re right, of course.”
He laughed. “That might carry more weight if you didn’t sound as though you were psyching yourself up for something you viewed as challenging—and not in a good way.”
She didn’t want Shane thinking she was being ungrateful. “Just prewedding jitters. I had them last time, too,” she quickly confided. A small smile played on her lips. “This is a lot like that time,” she added.
The remark aroused his curiosity and Shane asked, “In what way?”
“I eloped then, too,” she told him. “Same reason, in a way,” Cris realized.
From what Shane knew, Cris and Mike had run off together because they loved each other. He didn’t see the connection. “How’s that?”
“It was because of the MacDonalds then, too,” Cris explained. “Mike didn’t want to have to deal with his parents.” Her mouth set in a hard line as the memory returned. “Although they hardly ever paid any attention to him, they made it clear they felt his actions reflected on them.”
Shane shook his head. “I’m afraid I still don’t see—”
Cris raised her chin, struggling to bank the wave of bitterness she felt. “Marriage to someone like me was completely beneath him.”
“In what world?” Shane wanted to know, indignation echoing in his voice.
“Theirs,” she replied with a careless shrug.
She pursed her lips. Shane was right. Marrying him was the best way to deal with the threat of Mike’s parents. Shane provided Ricky with a “father,” who anyone could see, even under scrutiny, was a good, decent, hardworking man. Provided Ricky with a loving, complete home. And her having a good lawyer, thanks to Wyatt’s connections, should for sure give her nothing to worry about.
Her eyes met Shane’s as she allowed him one more chance to bail out. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.
Yes, I want to do this. Because you need me to do this. Because, maybe just for a little while, you actually need me.
Shane looked at her seriously. “Would you feel better if I signed a document to that effect and had it notarized?”
He succeeded in making her laugh, albeit self-consciously. “I guess I do sound a little neurotic,” she admitted.
He augmented her admission. “You sound like a concerned mother who is a very good, very fair person. Who also happens to be just a tiny bit neurotic,” he added after a brief pause. Then, growing serious, he made a suggestion. “We can leave tonight. The sooner we do this,” he continued, “the sooner you’ll feel more confident about the situation.”
He was right. Again.
Initially, he’d thought they’d fly, but the realities of air travel these days made driving a better option, so he proposed that, instead. “This way we don’t have to waste time with airline check-ins and all that hassle. Timewise, it will probably wind up being the same—except that driving gives us more in control of the situation.”
“Yes, but aren’t you too tired to drive?”
“Just getting my second wind,” he told her. “You can sleep while I’m driving, then we’ll switch off and you can take over for the second half of the trip. How’s that?” he asked, even though, unless he felt suddenly too tired to keep his eyes open, he intended to drive all the way and just let her sleep. She could probably use the shut-eye after the emotional wringer she’d just been put through.
Cris nodded as she started to go back inside the inn. But a second before she crossed the threshold, she stopped and looked at him. “We’re really doing this?”
“Unless you change your mind, we’re really doing this,” he confirmed without a trace of hesitation.
Flashing a grateful smile at him, Cris brushed her lips against his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Any time you need to get married, I’m your man,” he quipped.
It was a joke, meant to lighten the mood, but deep down, she had a feeling he meant it.
She didn’t laugh.
* * *
THEY WERE ON the road within the hour, a change of clothes for each of them—something a little more formal and a little less comfortable than what they were currently wearing—packed in a small suitcase that lay on the backseat.
Most of the hour had been spent making arrangements with her family and assuring them that she wasn’t just running off to spare them what could very well be an ugly legal confrontation with the MacDonalds.
She convinced her father and sisters when she pointed out that if she was really running off, she would be taking her son with her, not leaving Ricky behind with them.
That finally won over her family.
* * *
; THE END OF that hour found Richard walking Shane and her to Shane’s car.
Thinking that the man might want a few moments alone with his daughter before she set out for Vegas, Shane offered to step out of earshot. But Richard told him that wasn’t necessary.
Shane still insisted on giving them their privacy and moved out of hearing range.
Richard took his daughter’s hands in his. “I always thought that when you got married again, I’d be there for the ceremony.”
Things never did work out just the way they were supposed to, she mused. “Next time,” Cris promised with a laugh. “Besides, you know this one is just for appearances, Dad.”
Richard nodded, glancing in Shane’s direction. “You could do worse, you realize. He’s a fine, unselfish young man.”
Because there were definite feelings for Shane evolving within her, she deliberately avoided looking at him. Instead, she kept her eyes on her father’s face. “I know, Dad,” she admitted. “But he’s doing this because I need help. I wouldn’t take advantage of a man who was merely trying to help.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t mind being taken advantage of,” Richard suggested.
“Dad—” The tone was meant to warn her father away from following that line of thinking.
Richard shrugged his thin shoulders, not quite willing to completely give up the subject of Shane being an actual husband for Cris.
“I’m just saying...” he told her, letting the rest of his sentence fade away.
Coming forward, Shane made sure to clear his throat so that he had the attention of both of them—and no secrets floated around. “We’d better get going,” Shane urged her.
She kissed her father quickly, said, “Tell Ricky when he wakes up tomorrow that I love him and that I’ll be back before he knows it. Don’t say anything about the wedding to him,” she said. “I want to be the one to tell him about it.”
“What’ll you say?” Shane asked her as they got into the truck.
She was honest with him. Buckling up, she said, “I haven’t got a clue.”
Explaining it to Ricky wouldn’t be easy—especially since she would have to fabricate a story.
A WEDDING FOR CHRISTMAS Page 18
