Bargaining with the Bride Page 9

  “Luckily, we have a little while to find out for all of that.” Garret smiled, but it was short-lived.

  Eliza shook her head, her small, tight mouth a stark contrast to her ever-widening eyes, “About that—“

  Rachael thundered down the stairs so quickly he was shocked she hadn’t left a trail of dust behind her. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

  Eliza plopped onto the couch again with so much effort that she managed to startle Tesla, "It's a long story."

  "By which you mean..." Rachael prompted.

  "You will be infuriated."

  "Naturally."

  "Mom is worried about the wedding."

  "Why? She barely knows anything about it."

  "Exactly," Eliza rolled her eyes. "She says she hasn't been involved. That you go out of your way to exclude her, that you don't answer her calls or emails."

  "You mean her list of demands?"

  Eliza held up her hands, palms up. "I'm just the messenger."

  "Right. Sorry, go on."

  "Well, she's all worried that you're not doing things—"

  "Her way."

  "The correct way, so she thought the best way to get your attention and to salvage the event before it was a total catastrophe would be to show up on your doorstep."

  "Or for you to show up on my doorstep?" Rachael crossed her arms, but smiled at her sister.

  "As I said, I'm the messenger."

  "Well, if that's your mission, harbinger might be a more apt description," Rachael huffed, and the expression on her face was so heartbreaking that Garret could hardly contain himself. She looked like a puppy that'd just been slapped in the face: innocent, confused, and hurt. He had to do something.

  "You know, I think this is great." He said.

  "You do?" Eliza piped up, though the ghost of a smile was already playing over her lips.

  "Yes, I've been so excited to meet your parents. Wasn't I just saying that, darling?" He crossed the room tow and held a hand out to Rachael. She stared at it for a moment, brows furrowed, but then nodded as she took it.

  "Yes, you were."

  "I'm excited that we'll get to meet even sooner than expected."

  "Right..." Eliza eyed him suspiciously, and then looked at her sister and said, "Have you told him anything about them? Or is he crazy?"

  Rachael let out a nervous-sounding laugh, but Garret's bark drowned it out, "It'll be fine. Now let's get a move on. From what I can tell, they don't like to be kept waiting."

  And neither did he.

  The sooner this was over with, the sooner Rachael could relax. And the sooner that happened, the sooner he could have her all to himself again...

  "Okay, if you're sure," Rachael reached for his other hand and he pulled her the standing.

  "I'm positive."

  And with that, the three of them headed into the night.

  * * *

  He was insane. Her sister had mentioned it as a joke, of course, but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like the only explanation.

  And the way her parents had planned this trip?

  Even crazier.

  Their hotel was only fifteen minutes from her house. Like they'd known he was a fake fiancé and she'd only have fifteen minutes to prepare him for their wrath. Okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but it wasn't completely outside of the realm of possibility.

  "It's going to be fine," he said for the millionth time as he rounded the corner of Ashdale Boulevard.

  One street closer to the pit of hell...

  "You have no idea what we're dealing with," she said.

  "We're dealing with people who drop in unannounced because they don't trust you to handle your life as an adult. In terms of actions speaking louder than words, that's one hell of a doozy."

  "If that was all it was..." She trailed off. How could she explain Frank and Linda Ford to a person who'd never experienced that keen combination of cool disinterest and stinging disapproval? Like the emotional equivalent of getting a paper cut on sunburned skin. Neither are really your fault, but you still hate yourself for having to deal with it. Like if you'd just zigged instead of zagged, it all could have been avoided.

  "I know how to explain it. Have you ever seen a documentary on Pol Pot?" She started, but Garret burst into laughter.

  He definitely did not understand.

  "It's going to be fine," he parked the car outside of the hotel's bar attached restaurant, and when the engine shut off, he turned to face her. "You're a grown woman. You're a successful professional. What can they do to you? Ground you?"

  I wish that was the worst of it...

  "Maybe you're right," she said, knowing he wasn't, but going along anyway. In the end, maybe she was freaking out over nothing. Once she was married, none of it would matter. They'd have something to tell their friends about. And then, once she'd finally made it, her fake divorce would be completely overshadowed. This was just part of the plan. This suffering was temporary. All of it was temporary.

  “Now, we just have to have a great evening. You ready?” he nodded toward the building, but she shook her head. She wasn’t even a quarter of the way prepared. Before facing them, she had to have her war paint—those shades of make-up her mother had specifically picked out so she didn’t look like “a two-bit hussy.”

  Then, of course, she’d also need a few stiff drinks. And maybe a sedative. Or seven.

  She scrambled for her makeup bag, but Garret caught her hand and an electric spark traveled over her skin.

  "It’s going to be fine," Garret said again. “You look incredible.” Without another word, he climbed from the car and made his way to open the door for her. Once he’d held her out, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and gave her a stern nod. “You’re ready. And so am I,” he said.

  The place's windows were wide, a perfect accent to the low lighting and dark stained wood of the old-fashioned parlor within. Through the panes, Rachael could already spot the back of her father's distinguished greying head and her mother's professionally coiffed curls.

  "That's them," she pointed to her mother's pressed cream suite. Something she'd probably gotten on her last trip to Sak's Fifth Avenue.

  "Nice outfit," he nodded.

  "Yep." She looped her arm in his, biting back the warning that their clothes were the only thing nice about her parents.

  Eliza's car parked with a squeal beside theirs just before they'd opened the door. Her music still blared as she beat one hand against the steering wheel and straightened out with the other.

  Thank god for little sisters.

  When she finally cut the engine and clambered from the car, she jutted out and hip, a frown settling over her face.

  "Did you forget about showing a united front? You were just going to leave me to walk in by myself?" Eliza asked in mock outrage.

  "Sorry, I was a little distracted."

  Eliza walked past them and flung open the door, "I totally get it. No worries. Now, deep breath, shoulders back, and glide."

  Just like that, her childhood was back. Her younger sister skated across the floor like a ballerina and she followed, channeling her cotillion days. When they reached the varnished oak bar top, she had half an urge to curtsy when her mother's narrowed gaze finally landed on her.

  "So nice to see you." Without getting up and leaning any closer toward her, her mother moved her head from side to side and kissed the air. Almost as if that could be counted for affection.

  "Hello, mother." She nodded, then turning toward her father added, "Hello, father."

  Eliza hummed the tune to "Camp Grenada" under her breath and Rachael was torn between the desire to hit her or to bust out laughing.

  "Shall we find a table?" Her father nodded to a waiter who had clearly already found them a table and they followed along silently.

  When they'd reached a wide, circular table in the corner of the room, they all sat and Rachael's mother let out a long sigh.

  "I'm Linda Ford,"
she nodded toward Garret, and the knot in Rachael's stomach grew that much heavier. "We clearly won't be formally introduced, so I suppose I'll have to do it myself."

  "I'm sorry, mother, I—" Rachael started, but Garret cut her off.

  "I'm never much for formal introductions. In the boardroom, I'm much more impressed by someone who makes the initiative to tell me about themselves. Don't you find that to be true, sir?" Garret nodded toward her father.

  "I," her father started, then glanced at his wife. The expression of detachment was still firmly settled on his face, but if Rachael didn't know better, she might have thought Garret had caught him off guard.

  "Of course, I'm the one here to make an impression," Garret continued as if her father hadn't spoken. "I'm Garret Adams. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you."

  "Likewise," Frank nodded and Linda followed his lead.

  Silence stretched over the table again and Rachael chanced a glance at her sister.

  When their gaze met, Eliza cleared her throat. “Geez, what’s a lady gotta do to get some booze around here?” She smiled from her mother to her father, and both frowned at her.

  When it came to Eliza that was their patented reaction. Blanket disappointment.

  Another pang of sympathy stabbed at Rachael as she thought about Eliza’s life, staring at those expressions day in and day out.

  A waiter walked by and Linda waved him over. "Excuse me, we'll have two bottles of champagne please. And a cheese plate." She nodded, and then turned before the man had bothered to say a word.

  Classic Ford family treatment. Normally, Rachael wouldn' bat an eye seeing her parents behave this way. Watching them boss everyone around like they were mud on their thousand dollar boots. Still, there was something about having Garret here, watching all of it, that made her want to shrivel up and die.

  With every passing moment, more heat flooded to her cheeks, and if she didn't get some kind of reprieve soon, she was sure she might keel over right on the spot.

  "So, you’re not Lance,” mother said.

  “Mom—“ Eliza started, but their mother cut her off.

  “Was this a bit of a whirlwind romance?" Her mother raised her eyebrows, though this time she directed her comment toward Rachael instead for Garret. Which, Rachael supposed, made sense. The predator always hunts for the weakest of the prey, after all.

  "I don't know about all that." Garret said.

  "No?" Apparently her father had decided now was the time to recover from his earlier misstep. "That's even more surprising given Rachael’s...history." He glanced pointedly toward her engagement ring and let his meaning hang there, plain but unsaid.

  "Perhaps I misspoke," Garret smiled. "The dating was whirlwind, but the romance..." He smiled down at her, and for a moment the knot in her stomach disintegrated while other areas tightened and warmed. "As soon as I saw her, I was done for. I had to do some waiting to get her, but none of that mattered. Your daughter was worth it." He closed his hand over hers and then sat them on the table for her parents to see.

  If he was acting, he was doing a damn fine job of it. So fine that her heart was in her throat. She stared from their interlocked hands to his eyes again, but then forced herself to look away.

  She had to stop considering this. Earlier had just been a mistake. All her fault. This was an act. All an act.

  "So, you pursued an engaged woman?" Her mother asked and from the corner or her vision, Rachael spotted Eliza rolling her eyes.

  "That would be dishonorable." Garret shook his head, "No, I didn't pursue her. But we were friends. And I certainly hoped."

  Her father opened his mouth to speak again, but Eliza cut him off.c"How romantic! I wish I had a love story like that. The closest thing I have is that time Wendell Detwiler bought me a three pack of gum at the A&P. And I'm still not sure if that was a sign of affection or halitosis." Eliza looked at their parents with an air of complete seriousness and Rachael bit back a laugh.

  "So did you know Lance?" Mother asked, and her perfectly contoured brows rose almost as high as her nose.

  "Hey, look, champagne." Eliza cut in, then lifted the glass in front of her in the air. "I hope it's a good year. I'd hate to have to send it back." She tsked, and that time Rachael was sure even Garrett had cracked a smile.

  Still, he answered the question as their glasses were filled. "I never had the pleasure of meeting Lance."

  "I see. And you're not insulted that your wedding was planned for another man?"

  "If they were truly in love, then the wedding would still be for him." This time there was an edge in Garret's voice, and he eyed her parents over his champagne glass as he raised it to his lips.

  "Gee, it sure was nice of you guys to drop in on us like this," Rachael piped up, trying her best to deflect the lasers of interrogations that were apparently pointed squarely at Garret's chest.

  "Of course," Mother sipped her champagne. "We couldn't very well show up to the wedding without ever having met your future husband. And with the wedding so close, I imagine you'll need help ensuring everything is properly handled."

  "Actually, Rachael has already handled every detail. She's been incredible." Garret smiled from her mother to her and for a second Rachael could have sworn he'd winked.

  Mother sniffed, "All the same. Help is always a blessing. Isn't that right, Eliza?"

  Eliza's perpetual smile stiffened into a a defiant frown. What a polite dig at her current living situation. "I'm forever in your debt," Eliza mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.

  "Don't be so dramatic, dear. You know I didn't mean it that way. I simply meant that we love to help our children. Eliza with college for the year she managed to attend, and now with a living situation. And then of course there was the catastrophe with Rachael and—"

  "Really, mother, that was years ago. I don't think we need to—" Rachael started, but her father interrupted.

  "What an awful night. The mayor was beside himself. We had to pay all those fines from the country club. And our relationship with the community was never the same."

  "Never," Rachael's mother gave a well-practiced shake of the head.

  She glanced at Garret, willing him not to ask for more details. Not that it mattered. They went through this song and dance every holiday since that summer seven years ago and today was hardly the day for breaking tradition.

  "Honestly, I still can't understand what you saw in the Mayor's son. He was...slovenly. Unless you simply wanted to ruin our relationship with his parents."

  "She always was Machiavellian that way," Eliza's whisper carried across the table, but everyone ignored her. Rachael's focus was still on Garret. How he'd react. What he thought.

  "Trespassing on a golf course of all places," Her father's head shook in synchronization with her mother's.

  "And you helped me out of that. For which I am grateful." Rachael sipped the champagne, trying her hardest not to down it in one.

  "I thought it was romantic. A midnight picnic on the golf course," Eliza shrugged.

  "You would." Her mother huffed. "What wasn't so romantic was the night in prison."

  "Yes, I think that's quite enough. Garret doesn't need to hear about all of that," Rachael tried again, but her mother frowned.

  "Shouldn't he know all about you if he's going to be your husband? You shouldn't have secrets in a marriage, Rachael. I've always told you that."

  "But do you really need to tell him about something that happened while I was in high school?"

  "Would you prefer I told him about the underage drinking in college? Or the time—"

  "Mother. I'm very grateful for all the help you've given me," She had to be calm. She had to embrace a sense of inner quiet and strength.

  And most of all, she had to get them to stop talking.

  "Yeah, besides, my stories were always way more interesting. You remember that time my friends and I broke into the water park? Good times." Eliza grinned and sipped her champagne.

  Thank god
for little sisters.

  10

  “Ugh, I thought tonight would never be over. As if I didn’t have enough reasons to drink before.” Rachael closed the door behind her when the taillights of her sister’s rental car had finally faded into the night.

  “It wasn’t that bad," Garret laughed.

  She turned the find him leaning back against the cushions of the sofa, looking cool and collected as ever. He’d been living with her for over two weeks, she still wasn’t used to that. The control that always surrounded him. The unflappable confidence.

  In front of her parents, it had been all the more noticeable. The poised, practiced way he carried himself. Whenever they started in on her again, he’d listen intently, but never show a reaction. Occasionally, he’d jump in with a mention of why that story made him like her all the more.

  It was sweet, really. Or it would have been if a nagging part of her didn’t wonder if he was only interested for the science of it. For the research. Somehow, though, she didn’t think that was it.

  As his lean muscles flexed against the fabric of the couch, she found herself wondering, not for the first time, what might have happened if her sister hadn’t barged in on them tonight. She swallowed hard, and then crossed to settle into the chair across from him.

  “Thank you. For tonight, I mean,” she said.

  “My pleasure. Your sister is charming.”

  “Crazy might be a better way of putting it.”

  “All the best people are. After all, what we’re doing here isn’t exactly normal,” his gaze lingered on hers for a tense moment. Was it her imagination, or was there heat behind his words? Maybe even longing?

  Awareness surged between her thighs and she crossed her legs to dull the ache. This was all just part of her imagination. What happened before had been in the heat of the moment. She knew how Garret felt about her, and if he’d wanted things to be more intimate he certainly would have acted on it by now. Sure, they’d kissed, but he’d walked away. And earlier…

  That was her. She’d been out of bounds. She’d broken the rules of their agreement. Eliza gave him an easy out, and it would be unfair of her to test him by crossing that line again. The best thing to do would be to remain cool. She just had to relax.