Forever His Bride (8 page)

“Of course,” Brenna said, “those homes are going up fast on the outskirts of town. The builder probably doesn’t need the whole two weeks to finish it.”

“I didn’t buy a new house.” Although it probably would have made more sense if he had. But Nick had insisted on a new building for their office. For his home, Josh had wanted something with substance and character.

“You didn’t?” Her brow furrowed. “What house did you buy, then?”

“The Mannings’ place. It’s not far from here.” In fact, it was probably too damned close. “Just a street over, isn’t it?”

She nodded as her face grew pale. “Yes.”

Obviously she thought it was too close as well.

“I know it needs some work,” he admitted. But he’d fallen for the sprawling brick ranch house the same way he’d fallen for Cloverville, seeing it as a great place to raise his boys. “I had it inspected, though, and there’s nothing structurally wrong with it. I’ll just have to make some cosmetic changes. I should be able to handle all the repairs myself.” And working on the house would keep his hands—and his mind—off Brenna. He hoped.

“Of course,” she said, her voice turned slightly cool. “Cosmetic work is what you do.”

His choice of profession had been disparaged before. He’d even heard a few comments last night, from the hardware store owner—something about his being the doctor who made folks “pretty.” So he was used to being patronized. But from Brenna, the comment stung. “Hey!”

“That’s your job and it pays you well,” she continued. “It’s how you managed to outbid me on that house. That’s
my
house, Josh!”

Her mama wasn’t the only dramatic one in the Kelly family. He chuckled at her outrage, preferring it to her self-recrimination and guilt. “You bid on my house?”

“My house,” she repeated. “But it was too late. The Mannings had already accepted a higher bid.
Yours.
”

He lifted his hands, palms up. “Why would you bid on my house?
This
is your house.”

“This is my parents’ house.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“Do you live with your parents?”

“Of course not. For one thing, they live in Detroit, and I live in Grand…I live
here.
” He grinned. “In Cloverville.”

“Yeah, in my house.”

“My house,” he repeated, unable to suppress a triumphant grin. “I don’t understand why you wanted it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, her irritation growing. Brenna was not nearly as amused with their exchange as he appeared to be.

“Your folks are great, and they dote on you. Why would you want to leave them?”

“I’m twenty-six years old. It’s time I move out on my own.”

“You’ll break their hearts,” he said.

“I left home before, for college. I shouldn’t have moved back in with them when I came home. But I’d been more focused on the bakery then, and on expanding the business.” And now she had time to focus on her personal life. But the two things she wanted—the house and the man—were already taken. It didn’t matter that Josh claimed he didn’t want Molly anymore. Not if Molly wanted him.

“Well, there are other houses,” Josh remarked, as if he suddenly had qualms about having outbid her. “That new subdivision you pointed out is full of houses for sale. My Realtor took me through a few of them.”

“But I wanted
that
house.” Otherwise if she came home jet-lagged she was liable to walk into the wrong house since the new ones all looked the same. And she’d loved that the brick ranch was so different from her parents’ house, with its small rooms and narrow halls. The Manning house was wide open. But it was not for her.

“You can see it,” he offered, “with me. I’m meeting the Realtor to pick up the keys.”

“The Mannings moved out early?”

“They said they’ve taken everything they wanted. I offered to clean out the rest.”

Apparently he’d rather clean up after others than stay with her. “What about the boys?” she asked.

“I called Pop’s cell. They’re having ice cream right now, so they’ll be a while yet.”

“Okay.” She nodded her agreement. After all, the Realtor would be there with them. It wasn’t as though they’d be alone again. “I’ll go upstairs and grab my purse. In fact, I should probably drive myself over there, in case you want to stay longer.” The less time they spent together the better.

“Oh,” he said. “Brenna?”

An odd note in his voice stopped her midturn, her pulse quickening. She peered back at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“I do have something of yours,” he said.

“Yeah, the house…”

He lifted his hand, and something green and silky dangled from his index finger. Her bra.

Heat rushed to her face as embarrassment overwhelmed her. “Oh, my God! Did Colleen see it?”

How would she explain? How would she ever look at either of the McClintock sisters again?

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“I hope you’re right.” She bit her lip then reached for her undergarment.

But he pulled it back, and in his deep blue eyes she glimpsed the memory of what they’d done—and what they would have done, if not for Colleen’s interrupting them.

“It’s your house,” she conceded.

He needed it more than she did. He needed to get out before they did the something crazy with each other that Nick had alluded to.

F
ORTUNATELY THE HOUSE
had a circular drive, allowing room for all three cars—the Realtor’s, Josh’s and Brenna’s, plus a few more, if anyone else drove up. Josh loved the way the house sat back from the road, giving the boys a safe place to ride their bikes and roller blade. In fact, he loved everything about his new home—most especially that Brenna Kelly had wanted it, too.

“It’s a good house,” he said, with a satisfied nod as he opened her car door. Brenna drove an all-wheel-drive station wagon, a safe and sensible vehicle for Michigan’s unpredictable winters. Josh would have expected no less of her.

Kicking aside her long skirt, she joined him on the driveway and turned toward the brick house. With a wistful sigh she admitted, “That’s what I thought.”

“It’s a wonderful home for a family,” Mrs. Applewhite said as she rushed up to join them, her high heels clicking against the cement drive. “It has great square footage and such a fabulous yard.”

Josh had already bought the house, but apparently the woman couldn’t stop selling.

“You won’t regret your husband buying it,” Mrs. Applewhite told Brenna. “Congratulations on your new home, Mrs. Towers.”

“Uh, do you have the keys?” Josh asked, unwilling to correct the woman and receive yet another pitying look when he admitted that he hadn’t actually married
anyone.

“Oh,” the Realtor said as she fumbled inside her briefcase. “I must have left the keys in the car. I’ll be right back,” she promised as she hurried over to her foreign sports car.

“You should have corrected her,” Brenna said, blushing with embarrassment. “I’m not Mrs. Towers.”

“Apparently Mrs. Applewhite shares my views on the similarities between marriage and duels,” Josh teased her, “and she thinks you’ve assumed the duties of the bride.” He wished she would—especially the honeymoon duties. He couldn’t close his eyes, for the image of Brenna, bare to the waist, that kept flashing through his mind, testing his control and tensing every muscle in his body.

Anger flushed Brenna’s face a darker red and brightened her green eyes. “I am
not
Molly’s second.”

No, she wasn’t. Brenna Kelly was second to no one. “I know.” Before he could apologize for offending her, the Realtor returned.

Mrs. Applewhite jangled the keys in her hand. “Here we are!”

Josh reached for the keys, but the blond saleswoman shook her head. “Let me get the door,” Mrs. Applewhite insisted, “so you can carry your bride over the threshold.”

“I’m sorry to have to correct you,” Josh began. But before he could finish “correcting” her, Brenna clutched his arm, sinking her nails into the skin that was left bare by the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt.

“Wait…” Brenna interrupted him.

This woman catapulted Brenna back to high school, reminding her of all the cheerleaders who had taunted her for being overweight, calling her “fatso” and saying she’d forever be a lonely virgin. Brenna had believed them for a while…Until she learned that most men preferred women with curves. Of course there had been some guys over the years who’d changed their minds, after they’d asked her out, and had left her waiting for a date who’d never shown. Good thing she’d never minded eating alone.

For a brief moment, when Brenna had stepped from the car, surprise and then begrudging respect had crossed Mrs. Applewhite’s face at the thought of Brenna landing someone as handsome and successful as Dr. Joshua Towers. Brenna didn’t want the pity and condescension she was certain to see if Josh told the woman the truth. After what had nearly happened between the two of them, she couldn’t handle it. She might snap the little blond Barbie in half.

“What?” both Josh and the Realtor asked her.

She opened her mouth, but the lie caught in her throat. She couldn’t claim Josh as hers. She didn’t have that right. “He’s not my husband,” she said, the words rushing out. “I was the maid of honor, not the bride.”

Mrs. Applewhite’s smooth forehead, probably a product of Botox, didn’t furrow, but her eyebrows almost imperceptibly lifted. Was she one of Josh’s patients? Was that how he’d found this woman? If he were Nick, what would he call her? Face-lift?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman stammered. “I just assumed. I shouldn’t have. Of course
you two
aren’t together like that…”

It was Brenna’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “And, why is
that?
”

Because Mrs. Applewhite thought Josh too good, too perfect, for someone like Brenna? Someone
real?
The snobby woman should have seen them earlier, on the granite island in the middle of Pop and Mama’s kitchen. Brenna didn’t intend to share that with Mrs. Applewhite—that most men preferred women with curves.

The woman’s face flushed. “I—I didn’t mean…I just…you drove separately, and newlyweds usually can’t be separated. Especially on their honeymoon.” Her blush deepened as realization dawned, and she turned toward Josh. “So your bride…”

Josh shook his head.

“Oh, there was no…”

“Nope,” he said, as though completely unconcerned, “there was no wedding.” He plucked the keys from the woman’s outstretched hand. “Thanks for meeting us here. We’ll just let ourselves in.” He jangled the keys in Brenna’s directions. “After all, it is
my
house.”

A smile pulled at her lips. “Only because your bid was higher.” And first. She shrugged. “I guess baked goods can’t compete with Botox and boob jobs.”

A breath of surprise hissed out of the other woman’s plump lips. Collagen, too? “I guess I’ll just leave you alone then,” she said, clearly perplexed by their relationship. She wasn’t the only one. She turned toward Josh. “If you need anything…”

“I’ll call,” Josh promised.

Something flickered in her eyes—interest, perhaps as she realized that Dr. Towers was still single? “Please call,” she urged him, and as she turned to walk to her car, she swung her narrow hips.

“Isn’t she married?” Brenna asked, biting back a smile as the woman’s heel caught in a crack in the driveway. The woman tugged her leg, pulling the heel free and continuing toward her car paying more attention to where she was walking than how she looked to Josh.

“Who?” he asked, his attention on the keys that were laying in his palm.

“
Mrs.
Applewhite. Isn’t she married?”

Josh shrugged as if he was used to married women hitting on him, which he probably was. Maybe that was why Molly had gotten cold feet about marrying him. She’d envisioned a life with Josh in which she’d have to fight off all the other women who wanted him.

Brenna didn’t intend to be one of those women. What had happened at her house would never happen again. Molly had seen him first. She’d dated him. She’d accepted his proposal. It didn’t matter to Brenna that her friend hadn’t married him—he still belonged to Molly.

Metal clanked against metal as Josh clutched the keys in his hand. Brenna turned toward him, expecting the teasing glint in his striking blue eyes. Instead his gaze was hard and his jaw was clenched.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Everything.
Emotion overwhelmed Josh. Nothing had turned out as he’d imagined it when he’d bought the house. He shoved the key into the lock, and the door creaked open—to a huge mess of left-behind trash. He wasn’t surprised by the mess. He’d known the house needed work—all cosmetic and nothing structural. He’d also known that his relationship with Molly had needed work, if they were to make a success of their marriage. But he hadn’t been given the opportunity. Again.

“You didn’t have to tell her,” he remarked. He hadn’t minded Mrs. Applewhite’s thinking Brenna was his bride. It actually felt right.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I thought about letting her believe…whatever the hell she wanted. But…”

“But?”

She laughed. “Hey, I did you a favor. If you’d tried to carry me over the threshold, you would have broken your back.”

“Let’s see,” Josh proposed, as he reached for her and scooped her up into his arms.

“Put me down!” Brenna protested, but instead of pushing him away, she clutched at his shoulders, holding him closer. Her soft body molded against his. Two steps across the threshold, Josh set her down in the foyer, among the half-empty boxes and garage bags. If only she’d been his bride.

“See. You couldn’t handle me,” she taunted. “I’m too much woman for you.”

He reached for her again, but this time Brenna stepped back until the wall stopped her retreat. Josh followed, trapping her between his body and the wall. His chest brushed against hers. “I can handle you,” he promised. But maybe he lied. Maybe she
was
too much woman for him.

“Josh…”

He lowered his head until his mouth was just inches from hers. Her breath feathered across his lips. He could almost taste her. “Brenna…”

“Daddy!”

“Daddy!” the boys called out as they crashed through the open front door.

Josh stepped back from Brenna and drew in a shaky breath as he turned to greet his sons. He couldn’t rush into another relationship and risk disappointing them again.

“Hey, guys!” he said.

“Is this our new house?” TJ asked, his head, swiveling as he checked out the living room.

Biting his lip to suppress a grin over his son’s horrified expression—wide eyes, open mouth—Josh nodded. “What do you think?”

Buzz wrinkled his small button nose. “It stinks.”

Josh could not argue that point, as the stench of moldy food drifted toward them from garbage bags strewn around the living room. There were also various stains on the carpet, and the clumps of dog hair in the corners and under where the couch must have sat in front of the tall windows. He knew the boys couldn’t imagine it as he did, with a tree house in the back, built into the ancient oak that shaded the entire yard. Tree house…No, it would be a fort. His boys would love that.

“It’s messy,” TJ said, “and you yell at us when our rooms are messy.”

Josh snorted. “I don’t yell at you, guys. I
reason
with you.”

“Raisin?” Buzz asked. “All they do is stick to my teeth. They make your face turn red like it did when TJ flushed your cell phone.”

TJ jabbed his elbow in his brother’s ribs. “You flushed it.”

“No, I put it in the
toilet,
” Buzz clarified. “
You
flushed.”

“Yeah,” TJ agreed. “That was when the raisin made Daddy’s face turn red.”

A noise spilled from Brenna’s pressed-together lips—one that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Josh shot her a glare before turning back to the boys.

“Don’t worry about how the house looks now,” he said, directing the conversation away from raisins and his face. “We’re going to clean it up,” he promised. “And after we do that, we’re going to
keep
it clean.”

Buzz and TJ exchanged a look, and then their faces contorted as, in unison, they grimaced. They were obviously not on board with Daddy’s plan.

“We want to see our room,” TJ said, speaking for both twins as they took off at a run through the living room, dodging trash spread across the worn carpet. Underneath the stained and smelly broadloom were hardwood floors that actually weren’t in bad shape. Josh had checked them out the first time he’d looked at the house.

“You can each have your own bedroom,” he called after them. The house had four, with room in the finished walk-out basement for more. Josh had wanted a big house, a big family, since he’d grown up as Brenna had—as an only child.

Her parents walked through the door just then. Obviously the boys had run inside the house the minute they’d stopped the car. But the Kellys had taken their time, gathering up the buckets of cleaning supplies they now carried into the living room. Pop dropped his bucket onto the floor and slung an arm around Josh’s shoulders. “Son, I’m glad you bought the Manning house,” he said, his face beaming with pride, as if Josh really was his son. “It’s a great house.”

“Isn’t it a great house?” Mrs. Kelly asked her daughter.

Brenna’s face flushed, probably with exasperation again over Josh’s successful outbidding. “Yeah, it’s a great house,” she dutifully repeated.

“And it’s close to ours,” Mama said. “So we can see the boys as often as we like.” She clutched Brenna’s arm, pulling her daughter to her side. “And you can see Josh.”

Josh fought a grin at her mother’s obvious matchmaking. What had she and Pop seen? Josh carrying her over the threshold? Obviously Brenna thought so, as she shot him a glare.

The boys ran back into the living room, saving Brenna from having to say anything. “Someone colored all over the walls,” TJ said, as if he’d never done it himself—and as if he wouldn’t again the minute Josh painted them.

“And the kitchen really stinks,” Buzz said. “There’s food in the fridge.”

“And it’s fuzzy,” TJ added.

Josh lifted his hands to hold off their complaints. “We’ll clean it up, I promise. We’ll start with the living room. Then we can sleep in here tonight—in sleeping bags. It’ll be like we’re camping out.”

“Let’s camp outside,” TJ said.

“It stinks in here,” Buzz said yet again, obsessing over the pungent odor. Not that Josh could blame him. The house hadn’t been this dirty the first time the Realtor had shown it to him. Maybe he should have given the Mannings two more weeks for cleanup.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The clouds were so thick and dark outside that it looked as if evening had come early. Despite all the windows, Josh needed to turn on some lights.

“No one’s sleeping outside,” Mama declared. “You’re staying with us until you get this house all ready for you and the boys.”

Josh shook his head. “It’s not that bad,” he insisted. “We can clean it up ourselves.”

“No!” Buzz shouted. “We didn’t make the mess.”

“We’re not cleaning it up!” TJ took up their tag-team argument.

“We’ll
all
clean it up,” Brenna offered.

Pop grabbed a hold of a cleaning bucket and rattled the contents. “We came with supplies.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Josh said. When he had called the older man on his cell phone, he’d explained that he was taking possession of the house early because he’d offered to clean up after the Mannings. “I hope I didn’t give you the impression I was asking you for help.”

“In Cloverville, you don’t have to
ask
for help,” Pop explained.

Like Buzz, Mama wrinkled her nose as she glanced down at the carpet. “It’s going to take more than a good cleaning to make this house livable,” she observed. “The carpets need to go right away. And everything has to be painted.” She turned to Josh, her eyes sparkling. “You and the twins will be staying with us for a while.”

Brenna, her face even paler than before, shook her head. “That won’t be necessary,” she told her mother, with a pointed glance. “We’ll get a town work bee going. Like Josh said, the house is not that bad. He’ll be able to move in soon.”

And out of her life? Obviously she wanted to get rid of him, and he couldn’t blame her.

B
RENNA GLANCED AT HER WATCH
. She needed to be at the office, especially on a Monday morning, and especially as she’d already taken off Friday to help her parents with the rehearsal dinner and last-minute details for the wedding-that-wasn’t. Of course she had more-than-competent bakery managers and office staff. They could handle things for another day, and maybe even for the rest of the week. All she really had to do was check in to handle emergencies.

Because she’d rather be there in the park. With
him
…and his brother.

“You didn’t tuck us in last night,” Buzz whined, his lower lip sticking out.

“You’re a sissy girl,” TJ hurled the insult at his twin.

“No, you’re a sissy girl,” Buzz shot back as he scrambled up from the grass and chased TJ across the park.

“Goodbye,” Mama called out, waving as she headed toward her car, which was parked behind Brenna’s at the curb. The boys were Brenna’s responsibility now.

She bit her lip to hold back a smile. She’d skipped tucking them in the night before, not wanting to intrude on their bedtime ritual with their father. Not wanting to see their father again. But still, instead of going to the office, she’d driven to the park, where Mama had said she was taking them that morning.

TJ ran up to her and flung his arms around her neck. “You should’ve said good-night,” he cried out, adding his complaint to his brother’s.

She pulled him close for a tight hug and smacked her lips against his cheek. He cuddled with her for half a minute before wriggling loose. Then Buzz took his turn, launching himself into her arms. She smacked a kiss against
his
cheek, then blew raspberries into his neck. He giggled and squirmed free. “Brenna!”

How had she resisted them even for one night? No wonder, instead of going in to the bakery as she’d planned, she’d stopped here. The minute she’d opened her door, she’d heard the squeals and shouts as they played an energetic game of tag. She’d been tagged
It
before she realized they’d even noticed her. Of course they hadn’t made the game much of a challenge since she’d dropped onto the grass, heedless of her slacks and flowered blouse, and the boys kept running up to her.

“Who’s It now?” TJ asked.

“You’re both It,” Brenna said, “but we’re going to stop playing and go over to your new house to start working. Pop dropped off a Dumpster…”

“What’s a Dumpster?”

“A big metal garbage can. You had your pop-fight behind one at the party,” she reminded them. “And you’re going to help your dad fill this one with all the junk the old owners left in the house.”

“It smells bad in there,” Buzz said. “I wanna stay here and play.”

“Your dad needs your help,” Brenna insisted. It was just him and the boys. And she suspected it might stay that way, since Molly had yet to come home.

Brenna had called Abby that morning, over at the McClintocks, and her friend had verified the fact. Molly had to be with Eric. Ever since he’d moved to Cloverville, he had been the one Molly had turned to. Brenna had also called Colleen, at the insurance agency where she worked for Clayton, and she hadn’t seen her sister, either—or so she’d claimed.

“You’re It,” TJ shouted as he touched her shoulder and then ran off with his brother.

With a groan, Brenna scrambled to her feet. “I don’t run,” she shouted after them.

Giggling, they scrambled into the bushes surrounding the statue of the town founder, Colonel Clover. Then screams replaced the giggles as they fell over each other, in their hurry to get out. Both of them ran back to her and buried their faces against her sides.

Her heart beating fast, she patted their trembling backs. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

“There’s s-something in there,” Buzz stammered.

“An animal?” She ran her gaze over both of them, checking for teeth marks. But they bore only scratches from the branches. “Did something bite you?”

“No…” TJ whimpered. “It’s a-a-a…”

“Head,” Buzz said on a gasp.

Brenna swung her gaze back to the statue. Sure enough the old colonel had lost his head again. He’d been the victim of a drive-by eight years earlier, and the town, and specifically the thrifty mayor, Mr. Carpenter, had decided it wouldn’t dole out the money required to have the statue properly welded back together. “It’s just metal,” she assured the boys. “It’s not real.”

They lifted their faces and stared up at her. “Really?”

She nodded.

“It’s cool,” Buzz said more calmly.

“Yeah, cool.”

A couple of Brenna’s friends didn’t share that opinion. Few people knew that Colleen had been the one behind the wheel of the car with the bad brakes that had accidentally hit the colonel. She’d been only fifteen at the time and intent on running away. Since it had been Abby’s car, Abby had insisted on taking the blame, believing, and rightfully so, that the town would blame her anyway. Of course Brenna didn’t know this for certain, as Abby and Colleen had kept the truth a secret since then.

Goose bumps rose on the boys’ bare arms. “It’s getting cool out here,” Brenna observed. June in western Michigan was unpredictable; it could be as warm as summer or as chilly as winter. Today it was just like early spring, with a brisk breeze and a smattering of clouds. “Let me get you to your dad before he worries.”

Mama had promised she’d bring them over to the house when they’d finished breakfast. Josh, himself, must have left at dawn, obviously determined to get some work done.

Brenna buckled the boys into the back of her station wagon and drove the few streets over to the house that should have been hers. The minute she stopped the car, the twins jumped out and ran around to the overgrown backyard. Sighing, she followed them—at a much slower pace.

“I’m sure your dad is working on the yard last,” she pointed out. “We need to get inside.”

TJ, jumping up to try to reach a tree branch, said, “Daddy doesn’t need our help. Uncle Nick is here.”

That was whose sleek red sports car was parked behind Josh’s family-size SUV, next to the Dumpster Pop had had dropped in front of the garage.

“Well, you still need to help your dad. Then, once you’re done cleaning up, you can start painting your room.”