by Meg Maxwell
She seemed to be considering something but then got up and wrapped the sweater tightly around herself again. “We’re crystal clear,” she said, reaching over to give Daisy a scratch on her head before heading toward the door.
“Anything we didn’t agree on tonight or talk about we’ll just deal with as it comes up,” he said, thinking about Annabel lying next to him in bed, naked and beautiful. Though she likely wouldn’t be naked. Damn it. He’d have to keep his hands to himself. It was bad enough he was putting her in this position. He wasn’t going to come on to her and complicate things with sex, no matter how much he wanted her. That was what cold showers and mucking out stalls were for. There. He’d made the decision for them. No sex. Platonic. Businesslike.
“I assume you want to get married as soon as possible,” she said, walking into the living room.
He followed her. “This Friday at the town hall?”
She stopped and turned to face him. Again, something crossed her features that he wasn’t sure of. Like a Friday afternoon wedding at the Blue Gulch town hall was any woman’s idea of a dream wedding, even for a sham marriage. Good God, West.
“That’s just fine,” she said, an edge in her voice. “I’ll have Harold cover for me. I might even be able to work the dinner shift.”
West might not know Annabel all that well yet, but he knew sarcasm when he heard it.
She burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.
He stepped close and moved her hands away, tilting up her chin. He hated to see her cry, see such a kind person in such turmoil. Because of him. “Hey. I’m sorry, Annabel. I’m sorry I’m asking this of you. I’m sorry.”
She sucked in a breath and wiped at her eyes. “You’re going to save Hurley’s. I’m going to help keep your family together. It’s worth it.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. It was worth it. For both of them. “We’ll make it work for ourselves, whatever that means, okay?”
She bit her lip and let out another breath. “Okay. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure we’ll have all the ducks in a row for the town hall Friday, West. We should probably just fly to Las Vegas. That way, nosy eyes and ears at the town hall won’t be gossiping about us and the ceremony all over town.”
“Vegas,” he repeated, thinking a trip to the Strip with its fun and lights would be much more special than the Blue Gulch Town Hall. But then again, there was the matter of the wedding night, and a hotel overnight in Vegas would mean...options. So maybe that wasn’t such a great idea. Hadn’t he just decided keeping his hands off her was the right thing?
But...they’d have a chance to be alone for their first night as a married couple and could figure out how they were going to handle sharing a bedroom. “Yeah. Much better idea anyway. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Then she was out the door so fast he couldn’t even walk her to her car, watching the red taillights as she sent dust flying behind her.
Chapter Five
In the morning, Annabel and Clementine had their breakfast in Gram’s room as they always did. As Annabel sat on a chair near the window, pushing scrambled eggs around on her plate, she wondered for the millionth time if she should just tell them the truth. The whole truth. But she couldn’t; that wouldn’t be fair to West. He needed everyone to believe this was a real marriage.
Then again, she wouldn’t be lying if her family asked her if she loved West. Heck yeah, she loved him. He just didn’t love her. Annabel tried to focus on Clementine filling in Gram on all the action in the dining room last night—Seth Barlow had proposed to his girlfriend of two weeks, and she’d told him they should wait at least a month; the Otterman twins, Marley and Michelle, came in as they did every week and ordered the same dish, the blackened chicken po’boy, with the same sides, sweet potato fries and coleslaw; June Davino got a standing ovation when she loudly told her husband that yes, she did think she should order the chocolate custard pie, and didn’t need anyone being her food police.
That last one got a chuckle out of Gram. “Good for her!” Gram sipped her herbal tea, which she didn’t like, but the doc had said no caffeine. “You’ve been quiet, Annabel. Everything all right?”
Annabel looked up and smiled at her grandmother. There was her in. Just come out with it, Annabel. “Well, actually...” she began, poking at her eggs with her fork. “I have news. Big news.”
Gram sat up a bit and Clementine put down her coffee cup.
Annabel sucked in a deep breath. Here goes everything, she thought. “West Montgomery proposed and I accepted.” She said it so fast she wondered if they’d caught it.
“Proposed what?” Clementine asked, picking up a piece of bacon.
“Marriage,” Annabel said, realizing she should have added that bit. She and West had been reunited for what, a few days? And now they were getting hitched? Of course it would sound crazy.
The bacon halted in midair. “Wait. You and West Montgomery are getting married?” Clementine said. “Did I miss the relationship?” She looked all around the room, a teasing glint in her eyes.
“Well, you know I’ve been giving him cooking lessons,” Annabel said, looking from her sister to her grandmother, “and things just kind of took off. He proposed.”
Gram reached for Annabel’s hand and clasped it between hers. “I know how much you loved West all those years ago. I suppose you two picked up where you left off seven years ago, finally together as you should be. I’m very happy for you, honey.”
Oh, Gram, Annabel thought, her heart pinging.
“Me too,” Clementine said, putting the bacon down and coming over for a hug. “Have you picked a date? June bride and all that? I’m sure you can find a beautiful gown by then, and of course, I’ll take care of the all the arrangements. Ooh, I should call—”
“We’ve decided to elope to Las Vegas on Friday,” Annabel said quickly. “We both want our marriage to start right away, so no fussy wedding. We just want to start our lives together.” That was true, at least.
Annabel caught Gram and Clementine glancing at each other, their eyebrows raised, but the sweetness in their expressions told Annabel that despite knowing something was up, they were happy for her. They did both know how deep her feelings for West ran, and they knew she was a smart, sensible person. If she’d said yes, she knew what she was doing. Thank God for family who understood you—questioned you when you needed to be, challenged you when you needed to be, stayed quiet when they should because they understood you.
They didn’t even bat an eyelash when she mentioned they should keep the news to themselves until she and West left on Friday, to give West a chance to tell his daughter and the Dunkins, if he hadn’t already.
Gram trained her shrewd blue eyes on Annabel. “You tell that handsome fiancé of yours to stop by before you leave for Las Vegas. I want to give him my blessing.”
Annabel nodded. The elderly woman might not be in the best health, but that determined look in her eye told Annabel that West was going to have to earn that blessing.
* * *
On Thursday night, West tried the French toast recipe again, with a side of Lucy’s favorite sausage and cut-up fruit. No smoke alarm went off. Success. The French toast was just plain edible, not like the batch he’d made under Annabel’s tutelage, but better than barely edible, which was his usual grade.
As Lucy poured a little maple syrup on her plate, West decided it was now or never.
“Sweets, remember that nice woman who invited you into the kitchen at Hurley’s to make your own slice of cake sundae?”
Lucy nodded and put down the syrup. “Annabel Hurley. I saw her yesterday when Nana and I were passing the restaurant. She waved at me. Nana waved at her too.”
Well, that was good. “I’ve decided to marry Annabel.”
Lucy gasped, joy lighting her face. “I�
�m going to have a stepmother?”
West nodded. “What do you think of that?”
Lucy clapped the way she did when she was excited, but then her expression turned somber. “Maddy Higgins got a new stepmother because her mother died too,” she said, looking down at her lap. “I miss Mommy.”
“Your mama will always be your mommy in here,” West said, touching his heart and coming around the table to scoop Lucy up in his arms. He patted her heart. “Right in there. Always.”
Lucy titled her head, her hazel eyes curious. “What do stepmothers do?”
“Well, Annabel will make you much better breakfasts and dinners than I do. And she’ll pack you amazing lunches. She’ll help comb out your hair after your baths. She’ll help you get dressed, help you with your homework, teach you to do cartwheels, play hide-and-seek, sing you lullabies at bedtime, hug you if you’re feeling sad about anything.”
“That sounds really good, Daddy. When will she be my stepmother?”
Relief washed over him. “We’re getting married tomorrow,” he said, gently twisting one of her dark ringlets around his finger. “And we’ll be back the day after, on Saturday, I’m not sure what time yet. So definitely starting Sunday when you wake up, Annabel will be your stepmother.”
“I’m really happy I’m getting a stepmother and that it’s Annabel Hurley,” she said. “She’s so nice.”
West held his daughter tightly, relieved at how the conversation went. “I’m going to tell your grandparents tomorrow morning. I think they’ll be happy you’ll have Annabel to help take good care of you.”
He was 99.9 percent sure they’d not only back off from the custody threat, but back off, period. No matter how crazy things got, how strange it felt to marry a woman in a business arrangement, a marriage that was meant to be temporary, he had to remember the whole point was Lucy. Keeping his baby girl, his heart, his life.
Later that night, Lucy tucked in, his own version of a lullaby helping her drift off to sleep in record time, West went outside and stared up at the stars, hoping like hell this would all work out. He said a quick prayer for his brother, then for his parents, and as he was about to call Daisy over to head back into the house, he latched onto another star and said a prayer for himself.
* * *
Friday morning at ten, with assurances that Hattie and Harold could handle lunch and dinner, Annabel waited on the porch for West to pick her up. The plan was to fly to Las Vegas, stay over—for appearances—then return Saturday late afternoon. Annabel figured that way West wouldn’t be more than a night away from his daughter and Annabel could return to work at the restaurant, which sorely needed her.
Clutching her overnight bag too tightly, Annabel told herself to breathe, to calm down. But when the silver pickup pulled up and turned into Hurley’s tiny lot, Annabel’s stomach flipped over and her ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton.
West jogged up the three steps. “All set?”
“My grandmother would like to give you her blessing,” Annabel told him. “I’m not entirely sure what that will entail—just warning you.”
“Gotcha,” he said, and followed her into the house.
“So, did you have any big conversations today?” Annabel asked on the way to Essie’s room.
He nodded. “I told Lucy over dinner last night that the pretty woman who helped her make her sundae cake was going to be her stepmother and live with us at the ranch. She’s happy about it.”
Annabel blew out a sigh of relief. “What about the Dunkins?”
West leaned against the wall across from Essie’s room. “I called them this morning. Raina must have said, ‘Well, this certainly does change things,’ at least three times. They both sang your praises, how you come from such a lovely family, that a woman with your background would certainly make an appropriate stepmother for Lucy. Oh—and the Dunkins expect us for dinner on Sunday.”
Annabel’s eyes widened. “Well, we’ll just get through it, won’t we?”
West nodded. “That’s the name of the game.”
At the reminder that they were playing something of a game, Annabel felt the wind knocked out of her a bit. She needed a minute to herself, so she knocked on her grandmother’s door. “Gram? West has come to talk before we leave for the airport.” Annabel had already said her goodbyes to her gram fifteen minutes ago and had Essie’s beautiful antique wedding dress and veil in a garment bag. At first, she hadn’t been sure she should wear such a symbol of true love to her own sham wedding, but her grandmother had said it would mean the world to her that Annabel wear her gown, so of course she would.
“Oh, good, send him in, dear,” Gram said now.
West headed in, shutting the door behind him.
Annabel bit her lip and paced the hall, then figured she’d better go say goodbye to Clementine while she was alone. She found her sister setting up the dining room for lunch, Clem’s long brown hair in a high ponytail.
“Next time you see me, I’ll be a married woman,” Annabel said.
Clementine whirled around. “Listen to me, Annabel Hurley. I know something’s up. I don’t know what, but I know you and I know you wouldn’t be marrying West unless you loved him, no matter what else. So even though my ‘say what?’ alarm is a tiny bit raised, I’m very happy for you.”
Annabel smiled. “I do love him, Clem. So much and so deep down in my blood and bones that I’m afraid of it.”
“I know that feeling,” Clementine said softly, her blue eyes clouding over for a moment.
Wait, she did? “Clem—”
“Ready?” West called from the doorway. “Oh, hi, Clementine,” he added.
Clementine walked Annabel to the door, gave West a hug and her congratulations, then stepped out with them onto the porch.
“West, why don’t you put my bags in the car while I say goodbye to my sister?”
He smiled and grabbed her two bags and headed across the street.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Clementine said. “I’m fine. But yes, I know the feeling all too well.”
“I’m both happy and sad that you know. Love can be both the greatest and the worst feeling, huh?” She was dying to know who Clementine was talking about, who’d managed to win her guarded sister’s heart.
“Exactly.” Clem glanced across the street where West was waiting. “You’d better go. Can’t be late for your own wedding.”
Annabel hugged her sister again, then hurried to the car. West opened her door for her, waited until she was buckled, then got in the driver’s side.
Annabel glanced across the street at the faded apricot Victorian, the beautiful old house she’d grown up in as a teenager, the half-century-old restaurant where she’d learned to cook at her grandmother’s hip. Everything that needed to be okay—Hurley’s, West’s ability to keep his daughter—would be okay in just a few hours, with an I do and a kiss.
She heard West turning the key in the ignition and snapped back to attention. “So, what did my grandmother say?”
“She said if I hurt you, I’d answer to her.”
Annabel smiled. But there was very little doubt that West would hurt her. Hurley’s would be saved, West’s family would be saved. But Annabel’s heart would eventually be irrevocably broken.
Chapter Six
True to his word, West had made all the arrangements. He’d booked a hotel room—one room, he’d told Annabel, so they’d have a chance to get used to “living together,” prepaid for a four-fifteen time slot at an elegant chapel without a theme or a costumed officiant, and after a quick trip to the marriage bureau for their license, they had almost an hour to get ready.
Annabel looked around the fancy hotel room—West had spared no expense—her gaze stopping on the closed bathroom door. West had disappeared inside with his garment b
ag, containing his one suit, she assumed—and for that she was grateful. Getting used to living together by sharing a bedroom was one thing. Watching him take off his traveling clothes, seeing West even just half-naked, and getting dressed for their wedding was another.
She couldn’t stop staring at the king-size bed in the middle of it all.
Tonight, when it was time to lie down in that bed, she’d be Mrs. Annabel Hurley Montgomery. How many times had she doodled that on her notebook paper while doing her homework in middle school and high school? Thousands of times.
“It’s fine with you if I keep my last name as my middle name?” Annabel called through the bathroom door from where she stood staring out the window at the Las Vegas Strip, at the throngs of people walking, the lit-up fancy hotels and fountains and glamour. “I figure the Dunkins will expect me to be Annabel Montgomery. But I don’t have a middle name, so I like the idea of keeping Hurley.”
“Of course,” he called back. “Annabel Hurley Montgomery, it is. It’s probably better for business too.”
Business. Right. It was good that one of them was constantly reminding her what this marriage was about.
When he came out, he wore a tuxedo and shiny black shoes, and he looked so damned handsome she gasped. “I clean up well, don’t I?”
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. “You sure do.”
He laughed. “Your turn. Unless you want to get married in a tank top and flip-flops.”
She smiled and grabbed her stuff and headed into the bathroom. She hung up her garment bag with Gram’s dress and veil. Wrapped up inside were a pair of peau de soie peep-toe pumps that Clementine had had to buy once as a bridesmaid. Luckily they wore the same size shoe.
Something old: Gram’s dress and veil.
Something new: the lacy bra and panties she’d bought in Dallas but had never worn.
Something borrowed: Clementine’s shoes.
Something blue: her mother’s diamond and sapphire bracelet.
She slipped out of her clothes and into the fancy lingerie, then put on the beautiful paper-thin lace dress, like something Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn might have worn. It was tea-length and sleeveless and so beautiful that Annabel almost burst into tears. Her grandmother had married the love of her life in this dress fifty years ago.
