“Shoot. Gabe.” Harley bolted upright, thick, blond hair a tumbled mess that his fingers wanted to straighten. “I meant to tell you last night. I meant to apologize. Gabe and Joe have a bet about whether we’re a couple or not.”
Vince didn’t have to ask to know which brother was betting he and Harley were faking.
“Gabe pushes buttons like a kid playing video games, over and over, until you can’t take it any more. And then I... It was just...” She lifted those big blue eyes to him, making it hard to stay angry. “He’s as frustrating as my own brother, challenging everything I say simply because I don’t agree with him.”
How right she was. “That was why you kissed me?” Because of Gabe? The tide of tension began to flow back in, flexing his fingers, working his jaw.
Harley nodded. “He didn’t ask about your mother specifically. I just felt as if he needed some kind of proof that we were a couple. And since he probably knows about the scar on your bicep from that bar fight, and since you don’t have a beauty mark only a lover would know about, it was all I had.”
“You kissed me to...protect me?”
“That sounds so honorable.” Harley’s cheeks pinkened. She threw off the covers and swung her feet to the floor near his. Her toenails were painted a soft shade of blue. “I did it for purely selfish reasons.”
“I like where this is going.” Vince couldn’t contain his smile. It felt as if it spread from his lips to Houston.
“I kissed you to put Gabe in his place.” Harley straightened the offending football jersey and stood, staring down her delicate nose at him, her hair in a tangled cloud about her face. “I didn’t enjoy it.”
Oh, what a lie. “It didn’t feel that way to me.”
Cheeks reddening, she stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. And then she shrieked. “Why didn’t you tell me my hair looked like this?”
“Because it’s karma.” Vince went to the door so he wouldn’t have to shout and potentially be heard by the entire bed-and-breakfast. “That’s karma coming around to get you for telling Gabe about my mother and telling me you didn’t enjoy that kiss.”
Sometimes the smallest victories were the most enjoyable.
* * *
THE CLOSE QUARTERS of the bathroom made Harley nauseous.
Her upset stomach was more discouraging than her bed-head reflection and realizing she’d been talking to her ex-boyfriend while looking like the Bride of Frankenstein.
She sniffed when she got out of the cramped shower, trying to uncover a smell that turned her stomach. She sniffed as she dressed in a pair of black capris and a gray-striped sleeveless blouse. She sucked in air through her nose like a bloodhound as she tamed her hair into a single braid down her back, but still, she couldn’t identify anything amiss.
She’d dreamed of Dan chasing her through a shadowy playhouse last night and being unable to escape him because there were no balconies to run to. Maybe her stomach trouble was a product of stress, not environment.
“Hey, let’s get moving.” Vince knocked on the door. He was a morning person, always the first one to the job site, but he had a point. Brit and Joe probably had a ton of things to do for the wedding and needed their help. “You should eat something before we leave.”
She opened the door. Vince stood holding a small plate of food.
Ugh. Neither the hard-boiled egg nor the bagel and cream cheese he’d brought appealed to Harley. “I’d like tea, thanks.”
“And I’d like a new deal.” Vince’s smile was lukewarm. “Given Gabe doesn’t believe we’re the real thing, he’s not going to let Joe win the bet without a fight.”
“Don’t get overly dramatic.” Harley grabbed her cell phone and a five-dollar bill, shoving both in her pants’ pocket, wanting to get some tea in her stomach as soon as possible.
“He’s not going to give either one of us any peace.”
Vince looked serious and seemed seriously annoyed, as if he’d been tearing out his Disney prince-like hair.
Harley crossed her arms and thought about peppermint and apples, anything that might calm her stomach. There had to be something funky in the bathroom, something that made her feel queasy. Was Reggie using an odd brand of bathroom cleaner? A cheap brand of shower caulking? “And what do you propose to do to convince Gabe?”
“Another kiss.” Vince said it straight-faced, standing in front of the door like a palace guard. “This time in front of both my brothers. So that Gabe will have to concede. Joe will make him concede.”
“No.” Her suspicion meter pinged a warning. “I might consider it if you were a frog prince and my kingdom rested on this kiss.”
“Ribbit.” He didn’t crack a smile. “Your Highness.”
“There’s nothing in your proposition for me,” she said, putting her royal nose in the air.
What a flimsy statement. A kiss from Vince wasn’t a hardship.
Vince knew it, too. He quirked a brow.
Her gaze went from that brow to his mouth to the floor, which made her dizzy.
What was going on here? She drew a deep breath in, willing herself to feel better. She couldn’t handle Vince when she wasn’t on top of her game.
Harley raised her gaze to his once more. “Cut to the chase. What are you willing to offer?”
His smile was sly. “I could clean your engine when we get back to Houston.”
She waved that bargaining chip aside. “Offer me something you can deliver here. Like the truth. About anything.”
He made a derisive noise and glanced away.
Harley reached up and cupped his smooth-shaved chin, forcing his gaze back on her. “Tell me something...” She wanted to know more about the man she’d once given her body to. “Tell me why you’re not a mechanic. Gabe mentioned you were talented with engines. He was surprised you were no longer on an oil rig. Why?”
Vince seemed taken aback. His brows converged. His dark eyes narrowed. “It’s...complicated.”
Diversion. Denial. She was over it. “I need fresh air and tea.” To settle her stomach so she could handle these negotiations to her utmost advantage. She reached for the doorknob.
He pressed the flat of his hand against the door, holding it closed. “And for this, you’ll agree to stage the kiss?”
The room shrank from the size of a jail cell to a cardboard box. Even the shower seemed larger than the space they currently occupied.
Every inch of Harley’s body pleaded for caution.
“Yes,” she said, throwing caution to the wind.
Vince took a deep breath, as if what he was about to disclose was going to be painful. And then he said, “My mother is dating Jerry.”
What did that have to do with Vince not being a mechanic?
“That’s it. End of truth telling?” And then a thought struck her, so hard she forgot about upset stomachs, fresh air and tea. She grabbed his white T-shirt. “Did you know this before you came to work for Jerry?”
He nodded.
Harley’s mind raced. “And you were on an oil rig...”
His gaze darted sideways. “My mom dated an oil company mechanic.”
“There were...other men? Other jobs?”
He nodded, standing still, telegraphing that this conversation was too close to his soft emotional center.
“You realize that’s creepy, right?” Her stomach came back on line, agreeing.
Vince washed a hand over his face. The same hand that had held the door closed.
Harley made no move to go.
“It didn’t start out like that. I wanted to make sure she was okay and not making the same mistake, choosing a guy who couldn’t make her happy.”
“You wanted to make sure she wasn’t dating someone like your father,” Harley said slowly. “You mentioned your father had mental health issues. Did your mother care fo
r him? Support him? Nurture him?”
“Yes.” The relief in his voice was palpable. “They say people have a romantic type.”
Crikey. Her type was probably him. Tall, dark and emotionally unavailable.
“You were worried about your mother getting into another codependent relationship.” Harley digested his nod, his past, her reaction. “You were...trying to watch out for her.” She gaped at this caring, complex man. When she’d dreamed of her Prince Charming, she’d imagined him to have come from a happy home, without emotional baggage or misdirected good intentions. To be fair, she supposed men wouldn’t be attracted to a woman who was thousands of dollars in debt and a professional failure.
“You don’t approve,” he said.
She stared into Vince’s eyes, those black eyes that could express so much warmth, so much humor, and so much pain. “It’s not the way I would’ve gone about it.” Understatement. “And when your mom finds out, she’s going to be upset.”
His eyes widened. “She’s never going to know.”
“Or maybe she knows already.” The sickening feeling of claustrophobia returned. Harley couldn’t wait any longer for fresh air and green tea. She opened the door and hurried down the hall. “All it would take is one of her boyfriends to mention your name.”
Vince made a sound that was half groan, half sound of disgust. “No one’s ever said a word about me.”
“Meaning no police officer ever came to your door with a restraining order.”
Harley greeted Reggie in the dining room and asked about tea.
“I just dumped the hot water.” Reggie apologized. “You can get tea at Martin’s on Main Street. It’s on your way to the garage. I’ll see you there in thirty minutes.”
“So we’re good?” Vince asked Harley when they’d stepped onto the broad front porch.
“Honestly? I don’t endorse you stalking your mom, but I understand why you did it.” Harley tried to smile, but between the stomach upset and the choices he’d made, it felt more like a grimace. “And you have delivered on your end of the deal.”
“Yes,” he said firmly.
“Well...” Harley licked her lips. She was in big trouble here. Should she set a time limit on the upcoming kiss? She had a tendency to lose track of time when his arms came around her. “As long as you agree our performance is no longer than ten seconds, we’re good.” There. That ought to do it. Nothing bad could happen in ten seconds. Harley scurried down the porch stairs before she could dwell on the bargain she’d made. “Did you smell something strange in our bathroom?”
“No.”
Harley widened her stride, breathing deeply, trying to clear out whatever was making her feel out of sorts. “Does your head feel heavy or your stomach odd?”
“No. And since when do kisses have time limits?” The Vince she’d dated was back. His tone invited her to play on the flirtatious playground.
“They do.” Harley couldn’t resist a ride on the merry-go-round. “Gratuitous kisses always have time limits. Hadn’t you heard?”
He laughed, making her heart beat faster. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“I have a folder with all my silly ideas to make you cross-eyed.” Actually, it was a sketchpad and made architects like Dan cross-eyed. “I keep a scorecard.”
He laughed. His laughter filled the street. It filled her chest. It made regrets about obligatory kisses fade.
The temperature was brisk, quite a change from hot, muggy Houston mornings. Wisps of fog still lingered on the broad expanse of grass at the town square. Floating, the way Harley’s balconies couldn’t.
“We don’t have oaks like that in Texas.” Harley slowed to appreciate the lone tree in the town square. Its branches spread at least twenty feet on either side of the trunk like sturdy bird balconies. “They could put ten more benches under there. Why is there only one?”
“Because that’s the bench where folks in Harmony Valley propose.”
And presumably kiss afterward. Granted, she was becoming a bit obsessed about kissing.
She’d missed his wit. She’d missed his laugh. She was afraid to admit she’d missed his kiss.
Harley turned her feet in the other direction, not thinking about kisses or sons who kept tabs on their wayward mothers. She stayed a step ahead of Vince, having remembered where Martin’s was from their drive to the bed-and-breakfast last night, a few doors down from El Rosal.
They turned onto Main Street. The sidewalks were brick with gas streetlights every thirty or forty feet. El Rosal was doing a brisk breakfast business, one that spilled out onto a patio ringed by a black wrought-iron fence.
A few elderly patrons pointed and whispered as they passed.
Mildred was among them, standing out with her thick, round glasses and thick, round, white curls. She didn’t whisper. She called out a greeting when she realized who they were.
“They’re talking about you and your Rapunzel-like hair,” Vince teased.
“Vince, Vince, Vince. They’re talking about you and the infamous Messina hair,” Harley shot back. “With hair like that, you’ve got to be somebody.” This last she put in air quotes.
“They already know who I am.” He said it as if it was a bad thing to be a Messina in Harmony Valley.
She’d witnessed both a positive reception and a negative one, and refused to validate Vince’s fears.
She couldn’t let his gloomy mood set the tone of the day. “They may know your name, but they don’t know you.” Heck, she hadn’t really known him until this trip.
The architecture on Main Street was from the Gold Rush era. Lots of brick. Lots of square lines. Not exactly Harley’s preference, but the style was charming in its authenticity.
Beyond a few more storefronts, they reached Martin’s Bakery.
“We used to get doughnuts here on the first day of school.” Vince paused outside the door. “Gabe would order a bear claw and Joe liked sprinkles.”
“What did you order?”
Vince opened the door for her. “Whatever was in the day-old section.”
Harley’s heart panged. She touched his arm as she passed. “You don’t have to do that today.”
He gave her a small smile.
The bakery was filled with mismatched wooden tables and chairs. True to the Gold Rush style, the ceiling was high and plain. One wall was cluttered with old yellowed photographs of what looked to be previous bakers. Her father had a similar wall at the tile store, but it only went back one generation, not one century.
The bakery case was L-shaped, broken up by a counter with a cash register near the middle. The case was filled with cookies, doughnuts, scones and all kinds of flaky confections. The scent of warm chocolate and fresh coffee filled the air.
Harley’s stomach shimmied, overwhelmed by too many smells.
Nearly every table was taken. The customers were mostly gray-haired, except for the salesclerk and two toddler boys who played with blocks in front of the window seat. All conversation ground to a halt when Vince and Harley entered. Even the toddlers looked up.
And then the commentary came as fast as popping corn.
“Is that one of the Messina boys?”
“’Course it is. Those boys always did have a preference for blondes.”
“Except Joe. He got himself a brunette.”
There was a smattering of laughter.
“Okay, okay. You’ve had your fun. Don’t scare away my customers or I’ll raise my prices.” A pregnant woman with dark hair and a soft smile stood behind the counter. Her brown apron had Jessica embroidered across the breast pocket in block letters. “Welcome to Martin’s. What can I get for you?”
Her customer service didn’t halt the crowd’s observations.
“It’s the middle boy. He’s back for the wedding.”
“Is he the
one who dated all those girls?”
“No. He’s the one who barely graduated high school.”
This last remark slid between Harley’s shoulder blades with a sharp edge that made her suck in a breath.
Vince pretended he was hard of hearing, standing erect as if he were in the military. They’d shut up if he glared at them or laughed it off.
Harley opened her mouth to defend him but Vince laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t bother.” And then his hand drifted to her nape, where he gave her a gentle squeeze, as if loosening her tense muscles.
Her tense muscles? His must be locked in place.
Their gossip made her wonder. What would people back home in Birmingham be saying about her?
“I told Harley her ideas were too bubbly and cartoony.” That’s what her brother Taylor would say.
“Some people do and other people teach.” That would be her high school principal, Mr. Ethridge, hoping she’d decide to return to her alma mater as a teacher.
“It’s better to be a big fish in a small pond than a little fish in a big ocean.” That’s what her mother had said just last week when she’d asked Harley to come home.
Harley sighed, demoralized by her train of thought. She could really use a hug right now, something to validate the bad feelings and let her know someone cared.
Vince sidled closer, giving Jessica his coffee order.
Or she could use a kiss. Kisses rated right up there with hugs in terms of emotional therapy credits. With the right guy.
She couldn’t stop staring at her wedding date.
I am so in trouble.
“And what do you need this morning?” Jessica asked.
Harley yanked her gaze from Vince. “Hot green tea to go.” She pulled the five out of her pocket and pushed Vince’s wallet out of the way when he tried to pay for her order as well as his coffee.
A tablet propped on top of the bakery case had a message scrolling across the screen. “Horseradish chocolate cake?” Harley’s stomach twisted.
Marrying the Wedding Crasher Page 7
