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The brothers exchanged another glance, and then TJ asked, “We still gonna move here?”
Josh allowed the smile to take shape then as he stood, too. He wished he were as resilient as his sons. He crouched to their level and pulled them into a close hug. “Yes, we’re still moving here,” he assured them. Then he whispered, “I bought us a house.”
“Really?” Buzz asked, his blue eyes widening.
As he straightened up, Josh nodded. “But don’t tell Uncle Nick.” He’d deal with his best friend later. Being Nick, he’d probably have a lot to say, in addition to “I told you so,” and Josh didn’t have the energy to argue with him just then. He hadn’t slept at all last night.
“Don’t tell Uncle Nick what?” the best man asked as he stepped through the open church door, which Brenna Kelly had been holding with her back. Nick patted his pockets, probably checking to make sure the boys hadn’t pilfered any of his valuables.
Josh’s attention focused on Brenna, on the color flooding her round face as she was caught eavesdropping on his conversation with the boys. Why did he have the feeling that he might have to deal with her later, too? And why did the thought excite him?
“Nothing,” Josh finally said in response to his friend’s question.
“We want to ride in the big car, Daddy!” TJ demanded as he clutched Josh’s hand and tugged him down the church steps toward the idling black limo.
Buzz grabbed his other hand. His voice softer than his brother’s, he asked, “Can we ride in the big car?”
“Please?” TJ added.
Not to be outdone, Buzz echoed the plea, “Please?”
If Josh said no, they’d pitch a fit. Screaming. Kicking. A full-blown temper tantrum. He’d already endured one when he hadn’t let them carry the wedding rings down the aisle. In hindsight, he probably should have spared himself that tantrum and let them have the gold bands, instead of insisting his best man carry them. If the twins had flushed the rings, as they’d been known to flush other stuff such as Josh’s pager and cell phone—and Nick’s, as well—it wouldn’t have mattered. Josh hadn’t needed the rings after all.
He didn’t need the limo, either. But since they’d decided not to cancel the reception, the wedding party might as well take the long black car. “Come on, everyone,” he called out to the bridesmaids and groomsmen who filed down the steps behind him. “Let’s get in.”
“Are you sure?” Brenna Kelly asked, her green gaze intent on his face. He nodded and stepped back so that she and the rest of the wedding party could climb into the stretch limo.
For Brenna’s sake he hadn’t cancelled the reception. And for her parents’ sakes, too—as well as hosting the rehearsal dinner, Emmet and Theresa Kelly had worked hard with the caterer on the wedding feast. Josh owed the older couple a debt of gratitude.
After the rehearsal dinner, the Kellys had had him and the boys stay at their house. They hadn’t wanted them to stay with the McClintocks and risk bad luck tied to a wedding superstition involving the groom seeing the bride just before the wedding.
But Josh had seen her. She’d walked over to the Kellys’ in the middle of the night, where she’d found him sitting alone in the dark on the porch.
“Why’d you ask me to marry you?” she’d asked him.
“I think we can make a marriage work. I think we can be happy,” he’d told her, even though he’d been having doubts himself ever since he’d met Brenna Kelly.
She’d sighed, obviously torn. “I’m not sure…”
“Have you changed your mind? Do you want to back out?”
Misery and confusion had darkened her brown eyes. “I don’t know.”
“We’re supposed to be married tomorrow. Do you want to postpone the ceremony?”
“Everyone’s worked so hard on it. Brenna, the Kellys, Mrs. George.” She’d sighed. “And Clayton has already paid for everything.”
“If you’ve changed your mind, I can reimburse him. I wanted to pay in the first place.”
“He won’t let you.”
Then or now. The moment they’d agreed not to cancel the reception, he’d offered—and been rejected. Again.
His mind flipped back to his conversation with Molly. She had sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m probably just experiencing pre-wedding jitters. I’ll be fine in the morning.”
“If you’re not, I will understand,” he’d promised. “If you leave me at the altar, or you’re standing up there and can’t say I do, I will understand.”
She’d hugged Josh then, and warmth had flooded him, settling his doubts—and hers, he’d thought. “You’re such a nice man, Joshua Towers.”
He settled alone on the backseat of the limo, the one usually reserved for the groom and the bride. Why was it that nice guys always finished last?
As the limo pulled away from the church, Molly’s kid brother, Rory, asked, “So no one’s going to uncork the champagne?”
A disapproving breath hissed out of one of the passengers, and Colleen elbowed her younger brother, who shoved her back. Yet it was Brenna Kelly who landed flat on her butt on the floor, knocked off the end of the long seat she’d shared with Rory, Colleen and Nick. She laughed first, and then everyone else joined in. A chuckle even slipped from Josh’s lips.
“What a day…” he mused as he reached down to help her up. When his hand closed around hers, his laughter died as heat tingled in his palm and then shot up his arm.
“It’s not over yet,” she warned him, her husky voice soft. Her skin was soft, too, but her grip was strong. She rose from the floor, but before she could settle back onto her seat, he tugged her down beside him. He dragged in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the leather interior mixed with the fragrance from the single lily nestled in her shiny red hair.
Mentally, he kicked himself. His engagement not even officially broken, he had no business being attracted to the maid of honor. Hell, maybe he wasn’t such a nice guy after all.
Chapter Two
Brenna stifled a gasp as her hip settled against Josh’s hard thigh. He still held her hand, their fingers entwined, until Brenna pulled free. She tried to ease away, but the seat shifted beneath her weight and Josh slid closer. Heat rushed to her face. She couldn’t weigh more than he did, not with his height and muscle. Not that she cared—she had long ago made peace with her weight. She would never be model-thin, as Colleen was, or a little pixie, as Abby and Molly were.
She owned a bakery, and she damned well wasn’t going to deprive herself of sweets. Or anything else. She should be happy that the reception hadn’t been cancelled. She would have a wonderful meal and a huge slice of the chocolate cake with buttercream frosting that her dad had made for Molly. But Brenna wasn’t happy. Because Molly wasn’t here. She should be sitting next to Dr. Towers, not Brenna. And yet Brenna was relieved that Molly wasn’t in the limo. She was relieved that her friend hadn’t married Josh. And that was why she was unhappy.
How could she wish such humiliation on a nice guy like Josh? Sure, if Molly hadn’t been certain, then she couldn’t marry him. But if she’d had doubts, she never should have accepted his proposal. Why had Molly said yes?
Brenna had asked her that question two weeks ago when she’d met Molly for lunch in Grand Rapids, where Molly was going to medical school. But Molly had asked her a question first. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
Brenna had choked on the bite of cheesecake she’d just taken. After clearing her throat with a sip of water, she’d sputtered, “What?”
“I’m getting married,” her friend had announced, with none of the excitement Brenna would have expected.
“You and Eric have finally admitted your feelings for each other?” she’d asked, happiness filling her more completely than the creamy dessert had.
“Not Eric.” Her usually soft voice had been sharp as Molly stated flatly, “Eric doesn’t love me.”
Despite all of them knowing better, Molly had always insisted that. “Sure. So if not him, who proposed?”
“Joshua Towers. I met him when I was volunteering at the hospital. He’s a cosmetic surgeon. He works with burn victims, especially, and helps repair scars. He’s a fine surgeon, and a really great guy. He has the most adorable twin boys, too. He’s so sweet and funny.”
“How long have you been seeing him?” Because that was the first Brenna had heard about him.
Molly had shrugged. “Not that long. We’re both busy, and he’s raising the boys on his own. But we really clicked. The first time we went out we talked like old friends, as if we’ve known each other forever.”
“But you haven’t, Molly. Why would you accept his proposal so fast?” She hadn’t wondered why he would propose. A person couldn’t help but love Molly, she was so sweet.
“You’ll see when you meet him,” Molly had insisted. “And I can’t wait for you to meet him, Brenna. You’ll love him.”
“What about you, Mol? Do you love him?”
From her friend’s blush, Brenna had assumed she had.
A brush of a hand against hers now drew Brenna back to the present and the backseat of the limo.
“Are you okay?” Josh asked softly, his deep voice full of concern.
No wonder Molly had fallen for him. Not only was he movie-star handsome, but he was so kind, too. How could any woman not fall for him?
“Me?” She was riddled with guilt because she was infatuated with her best friend’s fiancé. No, she wasn’t okay. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just landed pretty hard on the floor.”
She laughed. “Didn’t even feel it.” She rubbed a hand over her rounded hip. “I have lots of padding.”
Josh’s gaze slid, like a caress, over her curves. She nearly stopped breathing as he leaned close and murmured, “You’re just right.”
If he thought she was just right, he must think every other woman in the world was anorexic. No, he was probably lying. The man was a plastic surgeon. How could he look at anyone—and most especially her—and not imagine what he might nip, tuck and lipo if he had the chance?
She lowered her voice even more, so that they couldn’t be heard above the other conversations taking place in the limo. “The real question is, are you okay?”
“Sure,” he said, as if dismissing his own feelings.
She reached out and slid her fingers over the back of his hand, offering reassurance and understanding. But her fingers tingled, so she pulled them back and clenched her hand in her lap. To dispel the intimacy between them, she raised her voice as she asked, “Are you sure you want to do this—the limo, the reception?”
“We’re not calling it a reception anymore,” Josh reminded her. He hadn’t gotten married, so he shouldn’t feel so guilty about his attraction to her. “It’s an open house for the town.”
“We don’t live here,” Nick pointed out. “We don’t need to go.”
“We don’t live here yet.” But as he’d told the boys, Josh had bought a house here. He hadn’t had time to share that news with his best friend, though. Since he wouldn’t take possession of the house until he got back from his honeymoon, he’d planned on telling Nick then. Like Josh, Nick had only ever lived in cities, and he’d been against starting their private practice in this small town. He certainly wouldn’t understand Josh’s wanting to move there, too.
“But we’re opening our office in Cloverville,” Josh said, ignoring his best friend’s grimace. “We need to meet our potential patients.”
Nick nodded his begrudging agreement.
Rory, bored with the conversation, prodded his older brother. “So, can we open the champagne now?”
Clayton shook his head. “No. And even if we did, you wouldn’t get any.”
“Come on,” Rory whined, sounding a lot like the twins.
The oldest McClintock’s voice was gruff with impatience as he began, “Rory…”
The teenager whirled toward Josh. “You’re lucky you didn’t marry into this family. We never have any fun!”
Buzz and TJ’s eyes widened at Rory’s belligerent tone. “We had fun last night, Daddy,” TJ said.
“At Pop and Mama Kelly’s house,” Buzz completed his twin’s thought.
A grin stole over Josh’s mouth. He couldn’t help it. Pop and Mama Kelly. They were warm and funny and talked with their hands and insisted everyone call them Pop and Mama. The boys had immediately taken to them, more at ease with them than they were Josh’s younger but more reserved parents.
“Why can’t we marry the Kellys?” TJ asked.
Next to him, Brenna, as if surprised by the child’s question held her breath and tried again to ease away. Josh merely slid closer, unwilling to let her slip away from him as easily as every other woman in his life had done.
Why can’t we marry into the Kelly family? he asked himself. With the way in which she’d taken on the responsibility of planning and managing the wedding, he doubted Brenna would accept a man’s proposal and then leave him at the altar. And because of that mantle of responsibility that she wore just as easily as the lily in her hair, he doubted she would desert her husband and kids.
Still, the one thing Josh had learned from his brief first marriage and even briefer second engagement was that he really had to stop rushing into relationships.
“DR.AND MRS. TOWERS.” The words rang in Brenna’s ears. Clayton hadn’t been able to stop the DJ from introducing the wedding party. No one had been lined up as she’d arranged them at the church, and so almost everyone had been called by the wrong name. But nothing had been quite as wrong as Brenna’s walking in next to Josh and being called Mrs. Towers.
Even though she’d had nothing to do with the mistake, embarrassment warmed Brenna’s face. It didn’t matter that Molly hadn’t married Josh today. He still belonged to her. And Brenna’s best friend was too smart not to come back eventually and claim her fiancé.
Small, sticky fingers tugged at her hands as the twins sought her attention. “Does this mean you’re going to be our new mommy?”
Brenna stared down at their identical faces, their eyes bright with hope. The haircuts were the only way to tell them apart. “Buzz…”
“That man called you Mrs. Towers,” TJ said, his voice high with excitement. “Grandma isn’t here. She’s with Grandpa on a big boat.”
Josh had explained that his parents had planned for years to take a cruise on their thirty-fifth anniversary. He hadn’t allowed them to cancel the trip, not even for his wedding. He was probably pretty happy now that he hadn’t.
“So, then, you’re Mrs. Towers,” Buzz said.
They were so smart for four. But then they’d had to grow up fast since they’d grown up without a mother.
“I’m not really Mrs. Towers,” she insisted. “The DJ made a mistake.”
“Grandma is the only Mrs. Towers,” their father said, leaning down to speak eye-to-eye, man-to-man to his boys. He settled a hand on top of each head, ruffling TJ’s moussed-up spikes and smoothing Buzz’s fuzz. “But that’s okay. We’re used to it being just us guys.”
Just as when she’d overheard his conversation on the church steps with his sons, sympathy filled Brenna. How had Josh managed to raise these young boys on his own? Molly had told her how their mother, Josh’s first wife, had abandoned him and the boys when the twins were babies. And now Molly had deserted them, too.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, offering an apology for her friend.
Josh, still hunkered down by his sons, lifted his gaze to hers. “I owe you the apology,” he said. “You worked so hard on this wedding, and it never happened.”
She gestured around at the American Legion Hall, which was decorated with red and white fairy lights and balloons and populated by every single townsperson but Molly. And their friend Eric. “It looks like it’s happening now. Well, a party is happening now.”
“It’s not fair this party is for a dumb girl,” TJ muttered.
“It was supposed to be our party,” Buzz chimed in.
Back in the bride’s dressing room at the church, everyone had decided to turn the reception into an open house. But the moment Clayton had silenced the embarrassed DJ, Mrs. McClintock had turned the event into a Welcome-Home-Abby-and-Lara-Hamilton party. If not for Molly’s wedding, Abby would probably never have returned to the town she couldn’t wait to leave eight years before.
Brenna’s lips curved into a smile at Mary McClintock’s obvious maneuvering. The woman was desperate for Abby, whom she loved like one of her kids, and Lara, whom she loved like a granddaughter, to stay in Cloverville. And of course, she’d probably really love it if Abby officially became a McClintock.
Poor Clayton. His mother was a strong woman. She’d had to be in order to survive losing her beloved husband and she’d fought hard to get what she wanted. Through the crowd Brenna glimpsed the eldest McClintock sibling at the bar. But instead of downing the drink he probably needed, he was writing a check to the bartender.
