The Wedding Plan

by Abby Gaines

  Reflexively, he grabbed a handful of nuts and tipped them into his mouth. Which gave her more time to talk, to persuade him.

  “It’s not as if you and I don’t care for each other a lot,” she said. “Maybe we could look at this as a trial run for a real engagement.” When he didn’t argue, she figured she was making progress. “Do you remember, on our very first date, you said you knew for sure I was going to be important in your life? And I said I felt the same? Maybe this is—” She stopped.

  Patrick’s color had deepened. His hand was pressed to his throat; his eyes bulged.

  “Uh, Patrick…are you choking?”

  Stupid question. Of course he was.

  Merry jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair. “Help!” she called. “He’s choking.” She dashed around the table. Heimlich maneuver. She’d seen it performed in countless movies.

  For a moment it seemed no one had heard her over the happy hour hubbub. Then Merline rushed up. “What can I do?” Now other people turned to look, started to move, but in what seemed like slow motion.

  “Just help me shift him....” Merry had her arms around Patrick from behind, but the high seat back made it impossible to get a grip. Dammit, this didn’t happen in the movies. “If we get him off the chair…”

  Next moment, the chair was gone, Merry had been shoved aside and Lucas—where did he come from?—had his arms around Patrick, hands positioned beneath his rib cage. Two sharp heaves, and a nut flew from Patrick’s mouth, landing in his wine.

  Patrick sucked in great gasps of air, his color quickly returning to normal.

  “Are you okay?” Merry asked, as the other drinkers applauded.

  He nodded, rubbing his throat. “Yeah.” It came out as a croak. He glanced around. “I thought it was all over. Who…?”

  Lucas stepped forward, hand outstretched, as relaxed as if he regularly performed the Heimlich maneuver ten times before breakfast. “You must be Patrick. I’m Lucas Calder.”

  Patrick’s handshake looked disappointingly limp, but, heck, the guy had almost died. Lucas saved his life.

  “What are you doing here?” Merry asked Lucas.

  “You said you were here. I was worried you might be drowning your sorrows alone.” His gaze flicked over Patrick. “I should have known better.”

  Patrick was looking him up and down, suspicion blooming on his face. Maybe Lucas didn’t seem quite like the creep Merry had apparently called him. In fact, even in worn jeans and a plain, long-sleeved dark T-shirt, he looked…gorgeous.

  If you liked that kind of thing.

  Merry realized Patrick was pocketing the wallet and keys he’d left on the table. “Patrick, wait, we haven’t finished our conversation.” I need a fake fiancé.

  “I think we have,” he said, his voice still croaky. “If it takes desperation for you to suggest we take our relationship to the next level, Merry, I don’t think we have much going for us. I’ve suspected for a while that only one of us was actually committed to this relationship.”

  She pressed a hand to her chest. “You’re breaking up with me?”

  “Hey, buddy,” Lucas said. “What kind of guy dumps a woman when her dad’s in the hospital?”

  Patrick flushed. “You’d better ask Merry that question.”

  “Don’t go,” Merry pleaded. “We can work this out.”

  “You…” Patrick stopped, mouth open, an arrested expression on his face.

  “One thing you ought to know, Merry,” Lucas said.

  Patrick leaned forward and barfed. All over her.

  “The Heimlich maneuver can cause vomiting,” Lucas said helpfully.

  * * *

  AS THE BUSSER CLEANED UP the floor, Lucas stood aside, then ordered a fresh glass of wine for Merry, plus a beer for himself. Just as the drinks arrived, along with a fresh bowl of nuts, Merry emerged from the bathroom wearing a red-white-and-blue Pete’s Burger Shack polo. Merline’s, going by its generous sizing. The rolled-up black pants weren’t her own, either. Lucas guessed her clothes were in the plastic grocery bag she set under the table.

  “I ordered you a chardonnay,” he said. “Thought I’d save you the hassle of having to show Merline your ID again.”

  “A ritual for which I have you to thank.” Merry sat down with a little whoosh of breath. She dug into the bowl of peanuts on the table and crammed a handful into her mouth.

  “Careful,” Lucas murmured.

  “I’m sure you’ll save my life if I choke,” she said around the nuts. She waited until she’d swallowed before continuing. “Besides, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “I stopped by the hospital again this afternoon,” Lucas told her, “but they still wouldn’t let me see your dad.”

  “Thanks for trying,” Merry said. “And thanks again for what you did at the boatyard. You’re not bad in a crisis.”

  “You should see me in a war.” He took a swig from his longneck. “So, how’s he doing?”

  “Nothing’s changed from what the doctor said when you were there.” She wrapped her fingers tightly around the stem of her wineglass. “He’s dying.”

  From the sudden widening of her eyes, Lucas guessed she hadn’t truly admitted it to herself before. Saying the word—dying—left her opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish.

  “Take a drink,” Lucas said.

  She glugged too big a mouthful and coughed.

  “I’m sorry, Merry,” Lucas said. “Maybe he’ll get a donor kidney.”

  “Maybe.” Blinking hard, she took a more moderate sip of her wine.

  A waitress, one-third Merline’s age and three times prettier, struck a pose next to their table—hip cocked, shoulders thrown back to accentuate her breasts in her low-cut T-shirt. “You guys, like, need anything else?” She batted her eyelashes at Lucas.

  “Gosh, yes, thanks so much,” Merry gushed. “Some privacy would be wonderful.”

  The girl scowled, dropped the pose and walked off.

  Lucas laughed.

  “Okay, that was rude of me,” Merry admitted. “But I’m not in the mood.” She propped her chin on one hand, the picture of moroseness. Was that only about her dad? Or…

  “I wouldn’t worry about losing Patrick Peacenik if I were you,” Lucas advised.

  She glowered. “Thanks for the tip.”

  “If the guy’s not willing to stand by you in a crisis…” He didn’t mean to sound quite so contemptuous. But, hey. There were some things a man should do without question. Lucas’s instincts had proved right—from first sight, he’d been irritated by Patrick with his floppy, pretty-boy hair and his bug eyes. Admittedly, the bug eyes were caused by nearly choking to death.

  “I might have made it hard for him to be supportive,” Merry confessed. “I asked him for a pretty big favor.”

  “You wanted him to run over a potential kidney donor?”

  She smiled reluctantly. “That might have been easier. Dad’s got it into his head that he wants to see me safely married before he…you know.”

  “You asked Patrick to marry you?” Lucas said, appalled.

  “Hey, he supposedly loved me,” she retorted. “Besides, he didn’t have to actually marry me. Just pretend to be engaged for a few days.”

  “Is that all?” Lucas set down his beer. “And he said no?”

  “He said marriage is too special to devalue in that way,” she muttered.

  Lucas snickered. “Poor Merry. No way could you disagree with that.” He knew exactly how she felt about love and marriage.

  “Ordinarily, no.” She sipped her wine. “Actually, Dad wanted me to marry you.”

  Lucas snorted. “Those must be some drugs they’re giving him.”

  “He’s drugged, but lucid. He’s just very worried about me being left alone.”

  “Poor guy.” Lucas tried to imagine John saying such a thing. It was an indication of how keenly the man must be feeling his mortality. Even trapped in a sand hole in the desert, Lucas had never doubted his abili
ty to survive. Never found himself coming up with crazy ideas for the people he’d leave behind.

  But John was right to be worried. His closeness to Merry and the lack of any other family meant his death would be extra hard on her.

  Looking at her, biting her lower lip, just slightly to the left side, the way she always did when she was anxious. That lower lip of hers was remarkably full.... He shifted his focus to his beer, brought the bottle to his mouth.

  “What am I going to do?” Merry said. “I can’t bear to see Dad so distressed.”

  She appeared so bleak, so hopeless, Lucas felt a tug of response in that deep part of him that compelled him to action in a crisis. Lucas Calder to the rescue.

  “Any reason I can’t be your fake fiancé?” he asked. “It’s just for a few days, right? And I’m your dad’s preferred candidate.”

  She swallowed some more wine. “I appreciate the offer, but…”

  “Are you saying no because of Baltimore?” he demanded. The memory of that night gave him a mental pause, too, but they were both adults.

  “Of course not. Doing it with you—” her cheeks colored at the poor choice of words “—is too complicated. Patrick’s family live in Colorado and would never need to know. Your parents are right here.”

  Okay, that was a problem.

  Lucas thought about it. His father had an almost fanatical regard for the truth. “Dad would never lie to John, or let someone else get away with lying to him.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So we wouldn’t tell them it was fake until later.” Lucas warmed to the idea. “Merry, if it wasn’t for your dad saving my father’s life, I wouldn’t exist. If I can help give John some peace in his last days, for the price of an engagement that’ll mean nothing to either you or me, and will soon be forgotten… It’s a no-brainer.”

  There weren’t enough good reasons not to do it.

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “When you put it like that…Lucas, thank you. I can’t tell you how much it would mean to me to be able to reassure Dad.”

  “All in the line of duty.” His mind raced ahead, scoping out the mission, the critical path. He was surprised to feel a faint buzz of adrenaline. Yeah, he wanted to do this—support her, make her dad happy.

  “We’ll be doing pretty much what we’d be doing over the next few days anyway,” he said. “I’d want to help you and your dad out while he’s sick. Now I’ll be doing it as your fiancé.” Lucas drummed his fingers on the table. “Maybe calling you honeybun every now and then.” He added casually, “I’d probably have to kiss you once or twice, too.”

  His gaze had got hung up on her mouth again. He wrenched it away.

  “No honeybun,” she said firmly. “No kissing. No…no hanky-panky at all.”

  Her edict naturally made him immediately want hanky-panky—dumb, old-fashioned word—and lots of it. But…

  “You’re right,” he said, and meant it. “We should avoid complications. This needs to be easy to unravel afterward. The best missions are the simplest.”

  She rolled her eyes at the military analogy.

  He sensed the situation wasn’t without risk, though he hadn’t had time to quantify it. But whatever it was, Lucas was an expert at risk management. “We’ll make it work,” he said confidently. “No problem.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MERRY’S FATHER WAS ASLEEP when she arrived in his room at seven the next morning. Now that he was stable, he’d been moved out of ICU, and even with all his tubes and monitors, he looked peaceful. More peaceful than she felt.

  She’d had a third glass of wine with Lucas last night—it seemed they’d both felt the need of some liquid courage—and now she was paying for it with the thumping in her temples.

  She sat with her eyes closed, waiting for her dad to stir. Lucas had said he’d meet her at the hospital this morning so they could announce their “engagement” together. She had to admit she was pleased not to be doing it alone.

  By the time John woke, soon after eight, she felt a little less seedy.

  “Merry-Berry,” he said sleepily.

  She sprang to her feet. “How are you feeling? Can I get you something?”

  “I feel good,” he murmured, sounding surprised.

  The words sent a chill through her. Dr. Randall had described kidney failure as a “peaceful death.”

  A nurse came into the room then. Merry wondered if one of her father’s monitors had alerted the nursing station that he was awake.

  “Good morning, Mr. Wyatt. Think you can manage some breakfast?” The nurse’s tone was brisk, practical.

  “I’ll have the pancakes with extra syrup,” John joked.

  His courage brought tears to Merry’s eyes.

  The nurse’s expression didn’t flicker. “You’ll have oatmeal.”

  Merry gave her a look that asked her to lighten up. The woman—the name badge pinned to her pale pink tunic top said Cathy Martin—met it with indifference. She checked her patient’s blood pressure, tutted a little, then left.

  “Are all the nurses that unpleasant?” Merry asked, feeling disturbed.

  “They’re fine. That particular one seems grumpy.” Her dad sounded tired.

  “Hi,” Lucas said from the doorway.

  She spun to face him. Embarrassment and nerves—and maybe a slight hangover—made her clumsy, and she knocked her dad’s IV stand. Somehow, that set off an alarm.

  “Damn.” Flustered, Merry gazed at the three screens that monitored goodness knows what, trying to figure out what she’d done. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  Lucas sauntered over, as unflappable as a guy who’d aced the Rocklike Calm class would be. “If it’s important, someone will be here soon.”

  Before he’d finished speaking, Nurse Cathy Martin was back. She bustled to the displays, then hit a button on one of the devices hooked up to Merry’s dad. The beeping stopped. She turned to Merry. “Who set that off?”

  “It might have been me,” she admitted.

  “Be more careful next time.” The nurse left.

  Lucas raised his eyebrows at Merry. “Dad and Stephanie are parking the car. They’ll be here shortly.”

  Merry glanced at her watch. Not even eight-thirty. “That’s an early visit.”

  “I told them our news,” he said, too quietly for John to hear. “They insisted on coming.”

  She stared at him, aghast. So there was no going back. Not that she wanted to…much.

  Sure enough, Dwight and Stephanie arrived a minute later. Stephanie, pushing Mia in a stroller, was smiling brightly enough to light up a Christmas tree, and even Dwight looked almost jolly.

  “Did you tell him?” Stephanie asked.

  John lifted his head. “Tell me what?”

  Merry gulped. Drew a breath. Before she could speak, Lucas said, “Merry and I got engaged last night.”

  Any doubts Merry might have had evaporated in the burst of elation that came over her father’s face. “Merry, that’s…” He stopped, choked by emotion. His jaw worked. “That’s wonderful.” He stretched his arms out; carefully, she went in for a hug. He kept his left arm around her while he shook Lucas’s hand. “Smart decision, Lucas. You won’t regret it.”

  “I know,” Lucas said with such sincerity that she stared. Then she realized he meant he wouldn’t regret faking an engagement for a few days.

  Nor will I. Not now that I see how happy it’s made Dad.

  Her father chuckled. “To think that all you two needed was a little push from me. Dwight, didn’t we always know they were destined to be together?”

  Lucas’s dad was more about logic than destiny, but he nodded.

  “We should have pressured them years ago,” John continued.

  “We should have,” Dwight agreed. “If you recall, Stephanie wouldn’t let us.”

  His wife swatted his arm, and he caught her hand and kissed it.

  “So, where’s the ring?” John asked.

  “We haven’t had time—”
Merry began.

  “Right here.” Lucas pulled a dark blue velvet box from his pocket.

  What the heck? Merry held her breath as he opened the box. Nestled on the plush white lining was a ring. A square-cut emerald flanked by two diamonds. Where did this come from?

  “You going to put it on, honeybun?” Lucas asked.

  Hadn’t she said no honeybun?

  Lucas placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted. Ugh, she’d been standing there with her mouth open.

  “No, she is not going to put it on,” Stephanie said.

  Merry turned to her gratefully.

  “Not even you could be so unromantic, Lucas,” his stepmom scolded. “You’re going to put it on her.”

  Lucas paused. “Of course I am.” Next moment, he had the ring out of the box and was advancing on Merry.

  He took her fingers in his. For a long moment, he examined her hand, as if weighing his options. Don’t you dare back out now.

  He must have read her thoughts, because he slipped the ring on swiftly, decisively. Slightly too large, it glided over her knuckle.

  Stephanie applauded; little Mia clapped her hands in imitation.

  John gestured to Merry that he wanted to inspect the ring. She moved closer, relieved to get away from Lucas.

  The bad-tempered nurse came in with John’s breakfast. “Very nice,” she said about the ring, though no one had asked her. She plunked the tray down on his table and marched out again.

  “I gave your mother an emerald,” John said, his voice heavy with emotion. He closed his other hand over Merry’s. “Nice job, Lucas.”

  “Thanks, John.”

  “So, when’s the wedding?”

  From the jerk of Lucas’s chin, Merry guessed he hadn’t anticipated the question. Lucky for him, she had.

  “It’ll take us a couple of months to get organized,” she said.

  Her father’s face fell. “I was hoping it would be before…”

  He seriously expected her to go from single to engaged to married in just a few days?

  “There’s nothing we’d like better, John,” Lucas said. “Unfortunately, blood tests and waiting times and the like mean it can’t be done. We figured we might as well wait a little longer and do it properly.”