Unexpected Bride (5 page)

He winced at the memory of those adolescent sleepovers. They hadn't bothered him much when they were all younger, except for the incessant giggling that had kept him awake half the night. But he'd really hated it when they'd had them years later, on his weekends home from college. Abby had run around the house in skimpy boy shorts and a tank top. His wince turned into a groan that he smothered with a cough.

"I'll switch her bags to your car," he offered.

She shook her head. "Nonsense. That's too much trouble."

For whom?

"And Rory needs to spend the night at your place."

"The best man was supposed to use my spare bedroom." Despite all the recent construction, Cloverville still had no hotels or motels.

"He's coming straight to the church in the morning, and so the groom doesn't see the bride before the wedding. Josh and the boys are staying here at the Kellys'.You have room for Rory tonight."

Room, maybe, but he wasn't so sure he had the patience, especially not after seeing Abby again. He'd have to slay awake all night to guard his liquor cabinet. Claylon focused his gaze on Mr. Kelly's cooler, beside which his curly-haired teenage brother stood—probably about ready to snitch a beer. Clayton had caught him with a bottle a few weeks ago, in the park, well after his curfew. The boy was trying to grow up too fast and too recklessly. Fortunately, the old man who'd seen Rory and his friends while walking his dog had called Clayton instead of the sheriff or their mother. That time, too, he'd had to leave his date in order to rescue Rory from himself.

It wouldn't matter if both Molly and Colleen got married. He'd
still
have too much on his hands with Rory to consider getting seriously involved with anyone. But he wouldn't change his mind about a relationship even if Rory suddenly became a choirboy.

Abby sauntered up next to Rory, whose face flushed red. Clayton's gaze followed his brother's to her derriere, straining the worn seams of her jeans as she leaned over the cooler, drew out a can and handed it to the boy. A cola.

Amusement teased his lips into a grin. His mother patted his cheek. "It's great to see you smile, Clayton. You're always so serious. Too serious. You need something..." Her gaze followed his to the giggling blonde teasing his brother. "Or
someone
to lighten you up."

It didn't matter how many grandchildren Molly gave her, he wasn't likely to get his mother off his back. Ever. Because he wasn't going to get married and start a family with anyone. And most especially not with Abby Hamilton.

"So are you my chauffeur for as long as I'm here?" Abby asked as Clayton pulled into his mother's driveway behind Mrs. McClintock's mini van. She'd beat them home, with Lara in the back in the built-in car seat. Abby had wanted to ride with them, but Mrs. McClintock had insisted there wasn't room with Colleen, Molly and Rory, who'd had to come home to pack his bag for Clayton's.

He lived in town in the apartment above the insurance agency. Abby couldn't imagine willingly leaving this home. Her heart lifted at the sight of the Dutch colonial where she'd spent so much time in her younger days. Although she suspected Rory had long outgrown it, the tire still swung from the giant oak in the front yard. The house wasn't as colorful or as big as the Kellys' Victorian, but Abby preferred its white siding and black roof. To her, it represented all the stability she'd never had in her own family. This house was why she'd packed up her apartment in Chicago. She wanted to raise her daughter in a house just like this.

Too bad it was in Cloverville.

"Mrs. Hild's roses and Mr. Carpenter's storefront thank you for not driving." He turned toward her. his eyes gleaming in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, as he added. "Not to mention the colonel."

"Not to mention, and yet you did. You just can't let it go. We're both adults now. Why can't you put the past behind us?" she asked.

Why was he so determined to think the worst of her?

"I'm just teasing you," he claimed.

"I'm not one of your sisters, Clayton."

His gaze clung to hers as he leaned over the console, his face so close that his breath brushed her face when he whispered. "I know."

Abby shivered, her attention drawn to his lips. But then he pulled back and opened his door. Her breath shuddered out. and when she reached for her door latch, her hand shook. Had he been about to kiss her? Clayton McClintock kiss her? She hated to admit it, even to herself, but growing up she had daydreamed about his kisses, how they'd make her feel...

Wanted.
She shook her head, pushing aside the old longing, which she knew would never be fulfilled. Clayton's kisses or anyone wanting her for keeps.

"I'm sorry you had to drive out of your way for me," she said, surprised he'd come around to her side of the vehicle, as if he'd been about to open her door.

Clayton McClintock opening her door? Clayton McClintock teasing her? Perhaps she wasn't the only one who'd changed.

"I have to pick up Rory, anyway," he said as he headed around the SUV to unlatch the back door.

"But he could have ridden home with you, instead of your coming out here." Her face flushed as she realized who had maneuvered the passenger lists. "Your mother..."

"She's not exactly being subtle," he said, with a short, bitter laugh. "She thinks you'd be good for me. That you'd lighten me up."

Abby snorted. Mrs. Mick playing matchmaker for her and
Clayton?

"Exactly," he agreed with her snort of derision. Too quickly. Obviously he had no interest in her, despite his teasing. "She doesn't understand. You've always brought out the worst in me."

If she'd only seen his worst, what was Clayton's best?

"How long are you staying here?" he asked as he hefted her bags from the back. She'd certainly packed more than a couple days' worth of clothes. But then she had a daughter, and he had no idea how much stuff one needed with little kids. And he never intended to find out. He was still raising one family, and he had no intention of raising another.

A mocking smile tugged at her lips. "Don't worry, Clayton. I'm not going to be here long enough for your mother to get us to the altar."

He refused to take her bait. She was much better at teasing than he was, despite his having three younger siblings. Instead, he carried her bags to the door. "The only wedding I'm worried about is the one that's taking place tomorrow."

"That
may
be taking place tomorrow," she replied.

He dropped the bags on the cement stoop in front of the door and turned back, trapping her between his body and the side of his mother's minivan. "You're
not
going to talk Molly out of getting married."

Molly might have been emotional, but she'd seemed so sure that she wanted to marry Dr. Josh Towers. She didn't need anyone making her doubt her decision.

Abby's lips lifted in that infuriating smile she kept flashing him. He longed to wipe it off her mouth—with his.

Breathing deep, he calmed his rising temper. No one, not even Rory, tested his control the way Abby did.

"What kind of friend would that make me?" she asked him.

"Talking her out of getting married?" He knew that she wouldn't purposely do anything to hurt her friends. "You might think that makes you a good friend."

She nodded. "I might."

"But you wouldn't be a good friend if you're actually projecting your aversion to marriage onto her," he observed. "Just because you think marriage isn't for you, that doesn't mean that it isn't for Molly."

"If you're so pro-marriage, why isn't there a ring on
your
finger?" she asked, reaching for his hand. Her skin brushed against his as she stroked his bare ring finger.

The hair rose on Clayton's foreanns—her touch was like an electrical charge. He pulled his hand away. "I've never been in love."

And he damn well never intended to fall prey to that dangerous emotion.

"What makes you think Molly is?" she persisted.

He wasn't certain Molly was in love. Yet. But she respected Josh and she'd chosen to spend her life with him. It wasn't up to Clayton or Abby to change her mind.

"She's wearing a ring," he reminded her. "She
accepted
his proposal."

"But I don't think she loves him."

He swallowed hard, but he couldn't control his curiosity about her and about Lara's father any longer. "Have
you
ever been in love, Abby?"

She shook her head, tumbling blond curls around her bare shoulders.

"But you have a daughter..."

Her laugh trilled out. "Clayton, you're so old-fashioned."

Yeah, maybe he was.

"And judgmental," she accused him again. "I could have become a nun instead of a single mother, and you still wouldn't approve of me."

"Is that why you made everyone promise
not to
tell me about Lara?" he asked, stepping so close their bodies nearly touched. "You were worried about what I'd think of you?"

She lifted her chin and tossed her head with all the spirit of a champion racehorse. "I don't care what you think of me, Clayton."

Anger licked through him, heating his blood. She didn't care what he thought? It shouldn't bother him. but it did. "Then why didn't you want anyone to tell me?" he persisted. "Are you ashamed you made a mistake?"

He stumbled back, nearly tripping over her luggage, as her hands slammed into his chest.

"Never
call her that!" Her voice trembled with rage. "Never call my daughter a mistake."

He caught her by the shoulders, holding her gently but firmly so she'd stop pushing him. "I'm
sorry,
Abby." She definitely brought out the worst in him. "That wasn't what I meant."

He could never see a child, any child, as a mistake. And even before Abby had reacted so strongly, he'd known she didn't see her daughter that way, either. She
loved
Lara.

Instead of defending himself, he conceded, "I was out of line."

"Yes, you were," she agreed, drawing in a deep breath. Her eyes pooled with unshed tears.

"I better go," he said, releasing her to open the door to the kilchen of his old house. His hand shook, rattling the handle.

"Clayton?"

He turned back to her.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm leaving Cloverville right after the wedding."

He nodded, relief easing some of the tension that pressed against his chest. No matter what his mother, the matchmaker, thought, they weren't good for each other.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, setting her suitcases inside the door. "At the church."

"Yeah, at the church..."

Unless she talked Molly out of going through wilh the marriage, which was her intention. She passed through the kitchen doorway, her back nearly grazing his chest. She suppressed another shiver, due no doubt to the cool night air. And not to Clayton's proximity, nor the memory of the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders had rippled as he'd carried her bags.

"Hey, man," Rory said from where he leaned against the center island. "What took you so long? They're having a
slumber
party." He rolled his eyes, trying to act macho either to impress his older brother or just because he was a teenage boy.