Unexpected Bride (9 page)

What did Mrs. Mick have on her oldest that she'd managed with just a raised brow to get him to change his mind? Abby had to find out.

The guests all turned toward her and applauded, pulling Abby's gaze away from Clayton. She glanced around at the people who had just about run her out of Cloverville eight years earlier. The way they surrounded her brought to mind old nightmares about a lynching. She had no doubt they'd almost considered it over the damage to the colonel. They'd been furious then. What had changed to make them clap for her today?

Resentment and bitterness over the past rose, threatening to choke her. But Lara squeezed her hand. Her blue eyes shimmered with excitement. Abby struggled to suppress her negative feelings. She couldn't call these people hypocrites, not in front of her daughter. She couldn't ruin Lara's joy at their "party." So she forced a smile.

Clayton's jaw unclenched, his tension easing as he took note of Abby's stress. She hadn't wanted to come back to Cloverville at all, let alone be the center of attention again. He'd wrung her neck without lifting a finger. The townspeople descended on her now, more than they had at the church. Probably asking questions about her life after Cloverville.

He wanted to get close enough to overhear. He wanted to know what she'd been up to the past eight years besides having and raising Lara. But he wanted to know about Lara, too. And he had no doubt that the town busybodies were nosy enough to ask questions thai were far too personal. They certainly never hesitated to ask him why
he
hadn't settled down yet. Some of the gossips were worse than his matchmaking mother.

His mom pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You did a good thing."

"You
did." he reminded her as he escorted her off the dance floor. "Changing the party to their honor was
your
idea."

"But you're paying for it," she said with a chuckle.

He sighed, disgusted with himself for not taking up the groom on the many offers he'd made to pay for the wedding and reception. Even as they'd climbed out of the limo. Josh had offered, no, insisted, on paying for everything—
after
Molly had left him at the altar. Clayton shook his head. She'd better have a damn good reason for jilting such a nice guy.

He had to talk to his sister and find out what had changed her mind. He already knew
who
had facilitated the decision. His gaze found Abby in the middle of the guests, her eyes wide with surprise—probably over his agreement to change the reception into a party for her and Lara. From the minute he'd picked her up at the airport, he hadn't exactly acted as if he was happy to see her again.

But he found it easier to agree with his mother than argue with her. He didn't want to upset her anymore.

She patted his arm. "Honey, Mrs. George—the caterer—is trying to get your attention."

But someone else had his attention instead. He pulled his gaze from Abby and focused on his mom. With a smile brightening her brown eyes and illuminating her face, she didn't seem all that upset about the cancelled wedding. "Mom..."

She kissed his cheek again. "Your father would be so proud of how you've handled everything."

And that was why he'd insisted on paying for the wedding, because that was what his father would have wanted. It was what Dad would have done if he were alive. Clayton reached for his checkbook. "I'll take care of Mrs. George." The woman had worked hard to make the old American Legion hall look festive, and he wanted to compensate her efforts. But before he walked away, he kissed his mother's cheek. "You look beautiful today."

That was the other thing his father would have done, the thing he'd never failed to do every day. Tell his wife how beautiful she was.

Clayton's heart clenched as he remembered the depth of his parents' love. Maybe that was why Molly wanted time alone to figure out what she really wanted—she'd realized she didn't love Josh the way their mom had loved their dad. Or maybe she had remembered her mother's inconsolable grief when he'd died and she'd realized nothing was worth the risk of that much pain.

A short while later, his fingers and his bank account in pain from paying off the DJ, the bartender and the photographer, he tucked his checkbook back into the inside pocket of his jacket. He scanned the reception hall for Abby, and came upon her daughter instead, near the cake. Tears welling in her huge blue eyes, Lara stared up at the top of the flower-studded tiers.

"Hey, honey, what's wrong?" he asked, crouching down.

She pointed toward the top of the cake, where the plastic groom stood alone in his black tux. "She's..." Her breath hitched. "Gone."

The little plastic bride, as well as the real one. How appropriate.

"I don't know where she is, honey."

The plastic one
or
the real one, although he suspected Abby knew where his sister was. He had to get a look at the note Molly had left her, because he knew better than to trust that Abby Hamilton had shared everything her friend had written.

"The boys say they have the bride," she said, her voice trembling, "and they're going to flush her."

"Flush her?"

"Down...down the toilet." Her breath hitched again. One tear spilled from her eye and trailed down her cheek.

"Where are they?" Clayton wasn't all that upset that these two young hellions were not going to be his step-nephews. But without pressure from Abby, Molly might realize what she wanted was to marry Josh. And he'd have to learn how to deal with the rambunctious duo.

"The boys are in...in...the bathroom."

Clayton brushed her tear away wilh his thumb. "It's okay, honey."

"They said she was me, that they're flushing
me
down the toilet."

He couldn't remember what the little plastic bride had looked like. He hadn't paid any attention to the cake or anything else to do with the wedding—he'd only paid for it.

Ah. hell, he didn't care about the money. He could make more. He
knew
how to do that, but what he didn't know how to do was make Lara feel better.

Another tear spilled from an eye, clinging to her dense black lashes before dropping onto his thumb. The vise tightened around his heart even more. He looked away from her, turning his attention to the cake. The five-tiered cake—frosted white and adorned with red and white sugar flowers—rose high above them.

"Honey, there's no way the boys got the bride down." They would have tipped over the table and knocked the cake to the floor. And not a single frosting flower had been disturbed. Then he peered closer and noticed that a few were missing from the bottom tier, miniature fingerprints left behind in the frosting.

She blinked those thick lashes, dispersing her tears. "You don't think so?"

"See how big the cake is?"

She nodded, the carnations and lilies rustling in her hair as her curls bounced. "It's so pretty."

Like Lara. And her mother.

"If they had tried to get her down, they would have knocked the whole cake over, honey. There's no way they have her. They're just teasing you."

Because boys lease girls they like.

Was that why he'd been giving Abby such a hard time. why he'd always given her such a hard time? He'd like to think he was more mature than that now and that he had been even all those years ago. He'd like to think he was too smart to be attracted to her, too. But he couldn't keep lying to himself. Even now he knew if he lifted his gaze from her daughter, he'd start searching the crowded hall for Abby.

"They were
teasing
me?" Her voice trembled, but with anger this time, making her sound much older than her tender years. Making her sound like her mother.

"Afraid so."

Lara tilted her chin and narrowed her eyes, anger stiffening her small, thin body. The boys were going to pay for picking on Lara Hamilton.

He almost felt sorry for the twins. If they were smart, they'd go on hiding out in the men's room. As he glanced around the reception hall, he didn't see them among the guests, but he did notice the party favors, packages of chocolate-coated cookies, missing from the tables nearby. Either they were stealing the treats from the other tables by now, or they'd eaten so many cookies they'd gotten sick.

Lara turned those expressive eyes on him. pinning him with her determined gaze. "Mr. Mick, can I ask you something?"

Mr. Mick?
Damn Abby.

"Sure. Lara." Bul he had no idea where the plastic bride was.

"Are you my daddy?"

Lara's question stole his breath away, leaving him gasping. He hadn't even kissed Abby yet.
Yet?
He'd thought about it ever since she'd returned to Cloverville. Hell, he'd thought about kissing her eight years ago, when she'd been a rebellious teen and he'd been a too-old-for-her-and-for-his-years college student. But he'd resisted then because she'd been more trouble than he could have handled.

And now that she was a mother, he certainly had no intention of getting involved with her. He'd already, at least partly, raised three younger siblings. He couldn't take on someone else's responsibility, too. Between the insurance agency and his family, as his girlfriend Ellen had pointed out, he had nothing left to give. Lara deserved more, even if he wasn't sure yet what Abby deserved.

"Mr. Mick?" she asked, blinking watery eyes at him.

His stomach flipped. She was such a sweet little girl. "Call me Clayton, honey," he told her. Not Daddy. He had no intention
of ever
being called Daddy.

"So you're not..." She trailed off, nibbling on her bottom lip.

His heart twisted. "Why would you ask me that, honey?"

Whal had Abby lold her daughter?

Color flushed Lara's face, painting her cheeks bright pink. "Mommy told me that my daddy was someone she knew a long time ago."

And at the airport she'd introduced Clayton as someone she'd known a long time ago.

"How old are you?" he asked Lara.

"I'll be five. October second."

Four years old and she was this smart? Abby had never done all that well in school. If she hadn't been expelled, she probably still wouldn't have graduated. How had she had a child so smart, so mature?
Who
was the little girl's father? And where the hell was he, that Lara hadn't ever met the man?

"I haven't seen your mother in eight years, honey." His voice rasped with emotion as he told her, "I'm not your daddy."

"But..." As Lara's gaze rose above where he crouched in front of her, her eyes widened.

Clayton turned his head, peering over his shoulder into Abby's face, as pale with shock as if she'd seen a ghost. Of course with her return to Cloverville, she'd probably already had to face down a phantom or two from her past. Hell, he'd been the one to show her the colonel. A laugh bubbled up in his throat, but he controlled it, not wanting to hurt Lara's feelings. Hoping he hadn't already.

Abby cleared her throat. "Lara, sweetheart, we have to eat dinner before we can have any cake."

Memories of dinners she'd eaten with his family years ago flashed through Clayton's mind. To Abby, dessert had always been the main course. He let out a derisive snort, but Abby didn't even look at him. Her focus remained on her daughter. Maybe she had changed.