by Renee Ryan
She started. “Oh… Yes. I need to hunt down a vase.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She didn’t bother arguing.
When they passed through the open door of the dining room, he stopped. Mouth gaping, his eyes ran over the chaos on the table and she thought she saw him shudder.
“I’m working on several projects.” She winced at the defensiveness she heard in her own tone.
He chuckled. “I gathered.”
Annoyance hiked up her chin a notch. She tried to take in the table from his perspective. As she did, she found herself shuddering, too. In one section lay a multitude of ribbons, feathers, buttons and bows. Off to the left sat three hats in various stages of production—or destruction, depending on one’s perspective.
Underneath all the mess was an array of parchment paper, inkwells and writing utensils.
“Mrs. Singletary is throwing a charity ball next month and has put me in charge,” she explained. “I’ve decided to start with the invitations.”
“Seems like a wise first step.” He deliberately turned his back on the table, as if deciding it best not to allow the chaos to seep into his brain. “I imagine there’s a lot of planning involved in putting together a charity ball.”
“You have no idea.” She’d quickly discovered an event on the scale the widow had in mind was too much for one person to tackle alone.
She needed help.
“I’m already in over my head,” she admitted.
Something of her panic must have shown on her face because he lifted her chin with a fingertip and smiled tenderly into her eyes. “I have no doubt you’ll pull it off.”
She went still for a heartbeat, having no idea what to do with this grown-up version of the boy she’d once loved. She really shouldn’t still care what he thought of her. Or that he knew her so well. Or that his words were taking away the sheer terror as surely as if he’d agreed to plan the party in her stead. “I wish I was as confident as you.”
His hand moved to her shoulder. “You know what to do, simply attack this party like one of our former adventures.”
“With reckless abandon?”
“No.” He laughed, and something shifted in his gaze, something a little dangerous. “Draw up a formula,” he said carefully, “and then execute it down to the letter.”
“That makes sense.” A lot of sense.
“I’m only pointing out what you would have discovered on your own eventually.”
He was right. Nevertheless, she wanted him to know how much she appreciated his words. “Thank you, Garrett.”
“You’re welcome.” His other hand took up residence on her other shoulder. Intent filled his gaze.
He was going to kiss her.
At last, she thought. At last.
She leaned in closer, a bit closer, one more inch. The sound of her pulse pounded in her ears. She thought she might have heard a door opening and closing in the distance, thought she might have heard voices. Winston’s mixed with others.
She thought she recognized one, but her mind refused to focus on anything but Garrett.
He was very slowly, very gently easing her into his arms. His gaze flickered to a spot just over her shoulder. And then…
And then…
His lips brushed against hers.
Her heart sighed. Her head spun. Her resolve vanished.
Had she truly thought she could hold herself apart from this man? That she could keep her distance and maintain a simple friendship?
Absurd.
Just as she settled into their kiss, she heard someone say her name. “Molly Taylor Scott.”
Her knees gave out. Thankfully, Garrett’s strong hands kept her from falling to the ground.
Another outraged voice raised above the other. “Garrett Mitchell, release that poor girl at once!”
* * *
Garrett couldn’t have planned this moment any better had he agonized over the details for days. He probably shouldn’t be grinning like a sap. He’d been caught kissing Molly, by his own mother. And hers.
Yeah, he probably should work up some genuine contrition.
However, he couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm. Not when he realized the worst thing that could happen would be an immediate demand for him to marry the “poor girl.” Since that was his ultimate goal, he didn’t see much problem with that outcome.
Except…
Molly was supposed to want to marry him, not be forced against her will.
The thought wiped his expression clean.
But then he caught Mrs. Singletary’s gleam of smiling satisfaction as she moved deeper into the room, and had to turn away before his own smile returned.
“Mother? Mrs. Mitchell?” Molly’s cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink as she glanced between the two women. “What are you two doing here?”
“You mean, besides watching my son behave in a highly inappropriate manner?”
There was nothing for it, Garrett thought as he smiled at his mother. Oh, she sounded sufficiently mortified. Looked it, too. But her steel-blue eyes, the same color as Logan’s, twinkled beneath her fierce scowl.
Molly’s mother also had amusement lurking in her eyes, eyes the exact shape and color of her sister-turned-daughter. The two looked so much alike Garrett found himself blinking from one to the other. If the woman standing beside her was anything to go by, Molly would age beautifully.
Garrett looked forward to witnessing the transformation firsthand.
Tread lightly, he warned himself. No need to put her reputation at risk.
It was mostly family in the room, but still. He shouldn’t push matters too far. Just a little nudge was all, a slight clarification of where he stood.
“I wanted to make my feelings for Molly clear. Kissing her seemed the best way to avoid any misunderstanding between us.”
All four women gasped. Well, three of the women gasped. Molly slapped a hand over her eyes and groaned, with too much gusto for Garrett’s way of thinking.
“Let me see if I have this straight.” Mrs. Scott glanced from him to Molly then back to him. “You kissed my daughter in order to declare you feelings for her?”
“That’s correct, Mrs. Scott. Molly and I are officially courting.”
Chapter Fifteen
Molly wanted to respond, needed to respond, tried to respond. But uncertainty held her silent. Garrett had just told her mother and two other witnesses—one of whom was his mother—that they were officially courting. Not that he’d had any choice in the matter.
They’d been caught kissing.
No turning back.
It was one thing to continue the ruse for Mrs. Singletary’s sake, quite another to lie to their own mothers. They would have to play this pretense out in front of their families, and anyone else in their immediate acquaintance.
All things considered, Garrett seemed awfully complacent over the direction their “pretend” courtship had just taken. In fact, he appeared highly pleased with himself, as if this moment had been part of some master plan of his.
The smug grin on his face reminded her of a time when his mother had caught him teaching Molly how to wield a slingshot on her eleventh birthday. He hadn’t been the least deterred when she’d scolded him. Once the storm had passed, he’d increased his efforts tenfold.
That boy—that daring, clever, skillful boy—was the very same one grinning at her now.
What was a former mischievous girl to do but smile at him in return?
She promptly lost herself in his gaze. Shocked at her momentary lapse, she quickly snapped back to attention and glanced first at Mrs. Singletary, then her mother and finally at Mrs. Mitchell. Neither seemed surprised by this turn of events.
Why weren’t any of them surprised, especially their respective mothers?
“Aren’t you shocked by the news of our courtship?” Molly asked.
“Not in the least.” Laughing softly, her mother pulled her into a warm hug. “It was only a matter of
time before you two made your way back to one another.”
“My only surprise,” added Garrett’s mother, smiling at Molly as well as her son, “is that it’s taken you two so long to get on with it. We’ve been waiting years.”
Shocked at this revelation, Molly looked at Garrett, wondering what he thought of that particularly bold declaration from his mother.
He winked at her. The rascal. He had planned this, or at least he’d used the situation to his advantage. He’d heard the women enter the house and had kissed Molly because he’d known they’d had an audience.
This was all a game to him. A grand adventure.
A ruse.
Not sure why her heart twisted with disappointment, Molly focused on her employer.
Never one to hide her reaction, the widow practically beamed at her.
Feeling outnumbered, Molly turned the conversation in a new direction. “Mother, Mrs. Mitchell. You never answered my question.” She frowned at the thick rasp in her voice. “Why are you here, in the middle of the day?”
Mrs. Singletary answered the question before they could respond themselves. “Simple, my dear, I have called in the troops.”
“Beatrix told us about the charity ball you’re planning for her. We’re here to help.” Her mother moved to the table, uncovered several pieces of parchment paper previously buried beneath stray ribbons. “By the looks of things, I see we arrived just in time.”
Had they offered their assistance an hour ago, Molly would have been grateful for the help. But now, with Garrett’s words of encouragement still echoing in her ears, she wanted to plan the party by herself. She wanted to live up to his high expectations of her.
But that was pride talking. What did she know about planning a ball where the object was to raise money for various charitable organizations in town? “Well, then, let’s get started.”
“We’ll leave you ladies to sort this out. Come, Mr. Mitchell.” Mrs. Singletary motioned to Garrett to follow her. “We have business to discuss.”
Silent throughout this interchange, he strode straight to Molly, took her hands in his and made a daring request. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
Not quite meeting his gaze, Molly bit her lip. “I’m not sure I’m free…”
“She’s free,” all three women said in unison.
Molly shook her head, feeling as though she were an actress in a badly written play. The unaware heroine forced to run through her lines without the benefit of a script.
“Say yes,” he urged, then leaned over and whispered in her ear. “We have a few plans of our own to work through.”
That was certainly true. This pretend courtship was fast getting out of hand. They needed a new plan. “Yes. I’ll dine with you this evening.”
He straightened. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“She’ll be ready.” This came from Mrs. Singletary. Still holding her hands, proving he knew how to play the gentleman, Garrett pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.
The room erupted in female sighs, proving the man knew how to play to an audience. He walked over to her mother next, said something that made her laugh and brought out her biggest smile yet.
Smiling himself, he turned his attention to his own mother next. He spoke to her in a low tone. After a moment, he kissed her on the cheek then set out with Mrs. Singletary.
Halfway out the door, he stopped and retraced his steps back to his mother. “I’d like a private word with you before you leave this afternoon.”
“Of course, dear.”
“It’s about…” He paused, turned thoughtful. Then pressed on, “…Fanny.”
“I figured as much. She is one of the reasons I’ve come to town for the next few days.”
“Good.” He nodded, looking vastly relieved his mother was stepping in. “She needs you. Don’t let her tell you otherwise.”
He exited the room and several seconds passed before anyone spoke.
Molly shifted from one foot to the other, not sure how to break the silence that seemed to grow heavier and heavier. She didn’t want to lie to her own mother. Or to Garrett’s. But she didn’t want to say more than necessary, either. Too many details would be just as bad as none.
“Garrett and I are still finding our way,” she said, speaking the truth as plainly as she knew how. “We haven’t actually made any promises to one another.” Again, true. “Things might not work out between us, so don’t think—”
“Molly, my dear, sweet girl.” With a gentle touch to her arm, Mrs. Mitchell cut her off midsentence. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“Or to me, either.” Her mother offered this with the unconditional love Molly had relied upon through the years. “I, for one, am pleased you two aren’t at odds anymore. If this courtship comes to nothing, at least you’ll know you gave it one last try.”
Not expecting such a bold show of support, Molly twisted her hands together at her waist and addressed her greatest concern. “Aren’t you going to warn me about jumping in too fast since my last engagement?”
“If it were any other man, perhaps I would. But this is Garrett Mitchell we’re talking about.” She winked at his mother, who promptly winked back.
Molly sighed in resignation, accepting the truth in the privacy of her mind. Because, as her mother said, this was Garrett they were talking about. Her first love, her only love.
And yet, she’d accepted marriage proposals from two other men who were most definitely not Garrett.
His mother couldn’t possibly want a woman with Molly’s sordid past to dig her claws into her son. “What about you, Mrs. Mitchell? Are you comfortable with Garrett courting me?”
The older woman answered without fuss or hesitation. “I’m pleased he’s finally made his move. He’s dragged his feet quite long enough.”
Molly could leave the discussion on that note. The cowardly part of her would prefer to say nothing more on the subject. But this was a time for candor, not cowardice. “My history doesn’t worry you?”
“Not at all.”
She persisted. “I have two broken engagements behind me.”
Mrs. Mitchell led Molly to a chair and pressed down on her shoulders until she sat. “There’s a logical explanation as to why those other two relationships didn’t work out for you.”
Molly blinked. “There is?”
“Of course.” The woman smiled with a mixture of female solidarity and motherly pride. “Neither of your fiances was my son.”
* * *
Garrett ran his finger across the last name on the list. Jonathon Hawkins. The new owner of the Hotel Dupree. Since Mrs. Singletary had seemed most interested in Garrett’s suggestion concerning the hotelier, he steered the conversation back in that direction.
“Hawkins is due to arrive tomorrow afternoon. I can set up an appointment with him by the end of the week, if you think you might want to present my proposed venture to him.”
The widow considered the idea in silence, her fingernails stroking Lady Macbeth’s fur. Having taken up residence on the widow’s lap halfway through their meeting, the cat purred in rumbling pleasure. “You think he’ll be interested in expanding his operation to San Francisco?”
“He has hotels in Chicago and St. Louis and now Denver, but nothing farther west. San Francisco would be a logical next step.”
Which was why Garrett had suggested the idea of re-creating the Hotel Dupree brick by brick in San Francisco. Westward travelers who’d stayed in the Denver hotel would feel at home in its counterpart out west.
“It’s a daring move,” the widow said, tapping a finger to her lips.
“Word is, Hawkins is a natural risk-taker.”
“I do like my men bold.”
Garrett reserved the right to remain silent on the matter. Instead, he said, “Couldn’t hurt to present the idea to him.”
Mrs. Singletary nodded. “How quickly can you draw up a detailed proposal for my review?”
“Two days, thre
e at the most.”
“All right.” She spread her palm over the cat’s fur. “Once I review the new draft, I’ll decide whether or not I want to proceed.”
Garrett made several notations in his leather portfolio.
“We’ll meet again in two days at your office, say Friday at ten in the morning.”
“Very well.” He added the appointment to the previous notations, then looked up. “Anything else we need to address?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “That’s enough business for one day.”
“Good enough.” He closed the portfolio and stood.
“Sit down. I did need to speak with you about that display this afternoon.” She gave him a very motherly look. “What are your intentions, Mr. Mitchell?”
At the none-too-subtle shift in topics, Garrett returned to his seat. The widow wanted to know his intentions toward Molly?
Glad for this opportunity to clear the air, he gathered his thoughts. “I’ve always enjoyed Molly’s company, more now that we are both older and a little less—”
“Impetuous? Volatile?”
He chewed on the words, discarded both. No denying that Molly had once been impetuous, and that their relationship had been volatile, at least in the end. But the wild girl he’d once loved had a softness about her now, a maturity and reserve around the edges.
“I’ve always found Molly’s unpredictable nature her best feature,” he admitted out loud. “But there are things about the woman she’s become that I also find agreeable.”
The widow frowned. “Such as?”
“Her poise. Her charm. Her kindness.”
Problem was Molly still kept putting up barriers whenever they started to get close. Perhaps she always would if he didn’t do something about it now.
Garrett needed an ally. But he wouldn’t enlist the widow’s aid without confessing his deception first. “I have not been completely honest with you.”
“No?”
“My courtship of Molly began as a ruse.”
Her hand stilled on the cat’s back. “A ruse?”
“The idea was to allow you to think your matchmaking attempts were working, thereby maintaining the control.”
“Yes, Mr. Mitchell. I’m fully aware of your initial subterfuge.” That slow, sly grin he’d come to recognize—and dread—spread across her lips.
