Happy Ever After
Page 71
“Thank you.” She planted a hard, noisy kiss on his mouth. “Seriously, thank you. I’ve got to call Leah, let her know.” She jumped out of bed, grabbed the phone. “Don’t worry about a thing.All you have to do is be here, and I’ll coach you through the rest.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
And as she called the bride, Malcolm pulled a pillow over his face.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HE THOUGHT ABOUT INVENTING AN EMERGENCY, BUT THAT WOULD be cowardly. And it wouldn’t result in caramel sauce.
Plus, he had to admit she’d outmaneuvered him, and couldn’t help but admire her strategy. And he’d revved on the execution most of the day.
He finished the work on the Jeep, rebuilt a carburetor, ran a few diagnostics for routine service checks, and took a couple of road calls, as he’d be passing the night shift to Bill.
He skimmed through some paperwork—most of which he intended to dump on his mother—and completed a list of replacement parts he needed her to hunt up for a rehab on a ’67 Mustang.
He took a glance at his balance sheet. It always gave him an odd little jolt to realize he was flush.
Flush enough to pump some back into the business, give his mother and the rest of the crew decent raises, and maybe take a little winter vacation after the holidays.
A week somewhere with a beach and blue water. Things slowed down some at Vows in January, according to Parker. She could probably figure out how to skip out for a week,. Nobody figured like Parker.
He’d teach her to surf.
Maybe she knew how to surf. He should ask her.
And it occurred to him he was planning a vacation around Parker.When had that happened?
He sat for a moment listening to the sounds from the garage, let himself absorb the notion.When it didn’t give him the jitters, he let out a huh.
So it didn’t matter when or how it happened, it just was. And he was okay with it.
Better than okay, he admitted, because he could see her with him on that beach with blue water, drinking some local rum deal, and just letting work go for a few days.
Or . . . maybe a break at her place in the Hamptons. Something to be said for winter beaches—solitude, sex by the fire.
So, he’d toss the idea at her, see where it went.
He gathered up the files, moved through the garage and into the office.
“Got some stuff,” he began, and went over the lists and invoices while his mother peered at the paperwork through her green-framed glasses.
“You’re taking off now?”
“I was going to. I sort of have a thing I have to do. Whatever you don’t get to, I’ll finish up by Monday.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t get it done. Come here.”
He leaned over the counter.And she cuffed the side of his head.
“Hey.”
“Why didn’t you tell me we were getting an invite to Thanksgiving dinner at the Brown Estate?”
“It just came up.” Aggrieved as only his mother could make him, he rubbed the side of his head. “And Parker said she’d call you about it, which I guess she did.What’s the problem?”
“If you’d told me, I wouldn’t have been taken by surprise. And if she hadn’t called, I’d’ve bought a damn turkey on my way home from work today.Then I’d have a turkey I don’t need.”
“Well, she did so you didn’t, and you don’t.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t.” She gave him that smirk that made him want to hunch his shoulders. “You’re wearing a suit.”
He knew it. “She said it didn’t matter.”
“I don’t care what she said. I’m saying you’re wearing a suit. You should buy a new suit.When’s the last time you bought a new suit?”
He nearly did hunch his shoulders, and thanked God all his men were out of earshot. “I don’t know. Jesus.”
“Don’t take that tone with me.” Her finger jabbed out at him like a switchblade. “You buy a new suit. And a tie. And some decent shoes.”
“Good God.”
“You’re seeing someone like Parker Brown, you have more need for a suit than for a wedding or when somebody drops dead. And you’re a successful businessman, don’t you forget it.A successful businessman has more than one suit in his closet. And you could use a haircut.”
“Anything else? Maybe I should learn French.”
She wagged a finger, but her lips twitched. “You could parlay voo if you wanted.You’re bright enough.You get that from my side of the family. You get your build from your daddy. That’s why you look so sharp in a suit. Go on and get out of here so I can deal with this work you’ve tossed at me.”
“If I’d known I was going to get bushwhacked, I’d have found more.” He walked to the door, glanced back—and felt the smirk they shared move onto his face. “Since I have to spend all this dough on clothes, I guess I can’t give you the raise I was planning on.Too bad.”
It took some of the sting out of the idea of shopping when she scowled after him.
BY THE TIME HE GOT TO PARKER’S, THE PLACE WAS IN FULL-EVENT mode. Emma and her flower people had already decked out the entrance with a lot of big straw-colored things holding acres of flowers. She’d mixed in some pumpkins, and what might’ve been gourds.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen gourds at a wedding, but he had to admit they looked good.
Inside they’d draped the staircase with miles of that filmy white stuff they used, more flowers, little lights. Still more flowers stood in pots and baskets and vases.
It was like walking through a fall dreamscape. Which, he supposed, was the goal.
He could hear more work going on in the Parlor, and in what they called the Grand Hall, but resisted the urge to poke his head in. He might get volunteered.
He considered easing through, hitting Mrs. Grady up for a sandwich before he dealt with whatever he was going to have to deal with upstairs, but even as he turned in that direction, Parker moved into view at the top of the stairs.
The woman, he thought, had better radar than NASA.
“Perfect timing.” She shot out a killer smile as she came down. “The groom’s party is just getting started. I can’t tell you how much you’ve taken off their minds, and mine.” She locked on to him like a tractor beam and began to lead him up.
“Yeah, yeah.”
And as she called the bride, Malcolm pulled a pillow over his face.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HE THOUGHT ABOUT INVENTING AN EMERGENCY, BUT THAT WOULD be cowardly. And it wouldn’t result in caramel sauce.
Plus, he had to admit she’d outmaneuvered him, and couldn’t help but admire her strategy. And he’d revved on the execution most of the day.
He finished the work on the Jeep, rebuilt a carburetor, ran a few diagnostics for routine service checks, and took a couple of road calls, as he’d be passing the night shift to Bill.
He skimmed through some paperwork—most of which he intended to dump on his mother—and completed a list of replacement parts he needed her to hunt up for a rehab on a ’67 Mustang.
He took a glance at his balance sheet. It always gave him an odd little jolt to realize he was flush.
Flush enough to pump some back into the business, give his mother and the rest of the crew decent raises, and maybe take a little winter vacation after the holidays.
A week somewhere with a beach and blue water. Things slowed down some at Vows in January, according to Parker. She could probably figure out how to skip out for a week,. Nobody figured like Parker.
He’d teach her to surf.
Maybe she knew how to surf. He should ask her.
And it occurred to him he was planning a vacation around Parker.When had that happened?
He sat for a moment listening to the sounds from the garage, let himself absorb the notion.When it didn’t give him the jitters, he let out a huh.
So it didn’t matter when or how it happened, it just was. And he was okay with it.
Better than okay, he admitted, because he could see her with him on that beach with blue water, drinking some local rum deal, and just letting work go for a few days.
Or . . . maybe a break at her place in the Hamptons. Something to be said for winter beaches—solitude, sex by the fire.
So, he’d toss the idea at her, see where it went.
He gathered up the files, moved through the garage and into the office.
“Got some stuff,” he began, and went over the lists and invoices while his mother peered at the paperwork through her green-framed glasses.
“You’re taking off now?”
“I was going to. I sort of have a thing I have to do. Whatever you don’t get to, I’ll finish up by Monday.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t get it done. Come here.”
He leaned over the counter.And she cuffed the side of his head.
“Hey.”
“Why didn’t you tell me we were getting an invite to Thanksgiving dinner at the Brown Estate?”
“It just came up.” Aggrieved as only his mother could make him, he rubbed the side of his head. “And Parker said she’d call you about it, which I guess she did.What’s the problem?”
“If you’d told me, I wouldn’t have been taken by surprise. And if she hadn’t called, I’d’ve bought a damn turkey on my way home from work today.Then I’d have a turkey I don’t need.”
“Well, she did so you didn’t, and you don’t.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t.” She gave him that smirk that made him want to hunch his shoulders. “You’re wearing a suit.”
He knew it. “She said it didn’t matter.”
“I don’t care what she said. I’m saying you’re wearing a suit. You should buy a new suit.When’s the last time you bought a new suit?”
He nearly did hunch his shoulders, and thanked God all his men were out of earshot. “I don’t know. Jesus.”
“Don’t take that tone with me.” Her finger jabbed out at him like a switchblade. “You buy a new suit. And a tie. And some decent shoes.”
“Good God.”
“You’re seeing someone like Parker Brown, you have more need for a suit than for a wedding or when somebody drops dead. And you’re a successful businessman, don’t you forget it.A successful businessman has more than one suit in his closet. And you could use a haircut.”
“Anything else? Maybe I should learn French.”
She wagged a finger, but her lips twitched. “You could parlay voo if you wanted.You’re bright enough.You get that from my side of the family. You get your build from your daddy. That’s why you look so sharp in a suit. Go on and get out of here so I can deal with this work you’ve tossed at me.”
“If I’d known I was going to get bushwhacked, I’d have found more.” He walked to the door, glanced back—and felt the smirk they shared move onto his face. “Since I have to spend all this dough on clothes, I guess I can’t give you the raise I was planning on.Too bad.”
It took some of the sting out of the idea of shopping when she scowled after him.
BY THE TIME HE GOT TO PARKER’S, THE PLACE WAS IN FULL-EVENT mode. Emma and her flower people had already decked out the entrance with a lot of big straw-colored things holding acres of flowers. She’d mixed in some pumpkins, and what might’ve been gourds.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen gourds at a wedding, but he had to admit they looked good.
Inside they’d draped the staircase with miles of that filmy white stuff they used, more flowers, little lights. Still more flowers stood in pots and baskets and vases.
It was like walking through a fall dreamscape. Which, he supposed, was the goal.
He could hear more work going on in the Parlor, and in what they called the Grand Hall, but resisted the urge to poke his head in. He might get volunteered.
He considered easing through, hitting Mrs. Grady up for a sandwich before he dealt with whatever he was going to have to deal with upstairs, but even as he turned in that direction, Parker moved into view at the top of the stairs.
The woman, he thought, had better radar than NASA.
“Perfect timing.” She shot out a killer smile as she came down. “The groom’s party is just getting started. I can’t tell you how much you’ve taken off their minds, and mine.” She locked on to him like a tractor beam and began to lead him up.
