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The Bridal Bet
Trish Wylie
Ryan Callaghan and Molly O'Brien have been best friends forever. But a childhood game turns serious when Ryan dares Molly to pretend they're dating–and she accepts!Ryan's quick to point out that pretend couples have to do a lot of very real kissing. And, as old friends become brand-new lovers, Molly realizes that the stakes for this bet are far higher than she had first thought….
“You’ve had some absolute whoppers of ideas in your time, but this one definitely gets the award.”
He folded his arms across his broad chest and waited.
“I mean, you and me—a couple? Who’s gonna believe that?”
He sighed. “Molly—”
“And to suggest that we’d ever be able to fool anyone—I mean, there are days we have difficulty just getting on well enough to still like each other as friends!” She started pacing in front of him.
He sighed again. “If you’d just—”
“We’d have to be able to look at each other without sniggering every two minutes. And as for the kissing thing—” She stopped pacing long enough to waggle a finger at him. “You do realize if we were actually dating we’d be expected to kiss and—well, other stuff like that….”
There was a deadly silence as they stared at each other in shock. Ryan swallowed hard. “I know that—”
Trish Wylie resides in the lakeland border county of Fermanagh in the north of Ireland. She splits her not-long-enough days between five horses, three dogs, writing and her fiancé, in roughly that order. (Though writing only comes third because the first two can’t feed themselves.) She started writing in primary school, about imaginary people who lived on an island sponge in the middle of the bathtub, and has wanted to write for Harlequin® since she read her first romance novel in her early teens. She first tried writing romance when she was about seventeen, but realized that it might be an idea to fall in love and have her heart broken a few times before she attempted writing about it.
Always a little in love with her heroes, Trish prefers that, as in real life, they have a sense of humor. She likes to believe that these men are just around the corner!
Harlequin® is thrilled to bring you Trish Wylie’s first book for Harlequin Romance®. We’re sure you’ll enjoy her lyrical voice and warm, passionate characters. In The Bridal Bet you’ll meet Molly O’Brien and Ryan Callaghan, two friends with a lot of past…and an unexpected future!
The Bridal Bet
Trish Wylie
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For all the old “Lisburn Crowd.”
We turned out okay in the end, didn’t we?
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u1d4d7b53-9a36-5966-8dad-2b930c52354c)
CHAPTER TWO (#u6f55301f-03fd-576d-94ee-202ad5729903)
CHAPTER THREE (#uc93f57a3-4d77-5235-8ca7-b47203091108)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
‘YES, I am still standing at the bottom of the ladder, and yes, I am looking straight up your dress.’
Ryan grinned and tried valiantly to avert his gaze. It wasn’t easy. Molly O’Brien had great legs; he had never argued with that. In all his years as her nemesis, friend and elder brother figure he had never once been blind to her good points or her bad. The moment he glanced upwards he was awarded an eyeful of two of those good points….
‘Callaghan, the moment I get down from here, you die.’
‘Are you threatening to fall on me? ’Cos I should warn you, your wee body falling on me isn’t likely to kill me outright. Now, if you were to be up a few feet more you might knock me out, but from where you are the best you’re likely to do is bruise me a little.’
Molly laughed out loud, despite her best efforts not to. ‘A good bruising would do you no harm, buster!’
‘That’s right, treat me rough, Moll. I can take it.’ An obliging breeze lifted the edge of her dress and Ryan was forced to swallow hard as his eyes caught a glimpse of white lace. He felt an irritating warm flush cross his cheeks. ‘Haven’t you got that stupid creature yet?’
She stretched her fingers out an extra inch and was rewarded with the touch of soft fur. ‘Good kitty, come to Mammy…ha!’ She pulled him towards her chest. ‘Gotcha. Next time you climb on the porch, Houdini, you can darn well get down on your own, and then I won’t have to have that lump down there look where he shouldn’t—you hear me?’
Ryan held the ladder patiently until she hit terra firma. Then he grinned a lop-sided grin at her. ‘I could hear that, y’know.’
Molly tilted her head to look up at him. ‘Mmm, you were supposed to. How anyone over six foot two can possibly have vertigo stuns me. If you were any sort of a gentleman you would have gone up there to rescue Houdini yourself instead of sending me up there!’
‘I hate heights—you know I hate heights. And I still maintain if you didn’t keep rescuing that stupid beast every time he gets stuck then he would soon learn how to get out of these messes on his own.’
She stuck her tongue out at him, then laughed. ‘You always bring out my mature side. It’s one of your less endearing qualities.’
Ryan bent down until his nose almost touched hers, his breath fanning her face. ‘Molly, all my qualities are endearing. You just haven’t noticed that yet.’
‘You wish!’
After lifting the ladder down he stored it away beneath the porch, before following her inside the house they had been sharing for almost six months. As pretty much his best friend, Molly had been Ryan’s sparring partner for as long as he had known her, and he had to admit it was fun spending time with her again. Almost like being kids again—well, almost.
Turning a pine stool around to sit astride at the breakfast bar, he watched as Molly moved around the kitchen. She was the same Molly he had known for nearly fifteen years, and yet since she’d come home from the States she was different somehow. Lately he’d found himself watching her, trying to see what it was.
With her back to him as she filled the kettle with water, she felt the hair prickling on the back of her neck and smiled softly. ‘You’re staring again, Callaghan.’
‘Who, me?’
‘Yeah, you.’
‘You know, you’ve really got to stop this ego trip. Thinking I have nothing better to do with my time than stand and stare at you.’
Turning the kettle on, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. ‘Sit and stare, you mean.’
She moved to lean her back against the counter top, folding her arms across her chest before awarding him one of her patented ‘don’t kid me’ glares. ‘And it’s not the first time this week. What’s up?’
Ryan plastered his best innocent look across his face and blinked at her with dark eyes. ‘What do you mean, what’s up? There’s nothing up. Am I not allowed to look at you now?’ Green eyes narrowed suspiciously as she watched his little act. ‘You are such a bad liar, Callaghan. Come on, spill it….’
‘Spill it? Ah now that would be one of those quaint American sayings of yours, would it? I make that about the twentieth one you’ve used this week.’
‘Don’t change the subject.’
‘I’m not. I’m just saying, that’s all. How long do you think it’ll take to make you Irish again after spending six years going all Yank on us?’
Molly unfolded her arms and slowly moved across the room to face him over the breakfast bar. ‘I have always been Irish and I will always be Irish, you great rat, and you know it!’
He leaned towards her. ‘Now, Molly O’Brien, did you just go calling me a rat again?’ His dark eyebrows raised in question as his eyes shone at her. ‘Because you know that would be the third time today you’ve done that, and that would mean you owe me.’
Her eyes widened and then closed as she shook her head. He had been teasing her about her new accent and her Americanised ways ever since her return. He knew how riled she got at the taunts. ‘I don’t believe you. You tricked me into losing a bet and now you’re going to gloat, aren’t you?’
If her eyes had opened a second sooner she’d have seen him smile affectionately at her. As it was, he looked cool and calm when she looked into his eyes. ‘What’s the payment, rat face?’
‘Ah now, I’ll need to think about that for a while.’ He stood up and replaced the stool before walking towards the doorway. ‘There’s no point in rushing these things—takes all the fun clean out of them. I’ll tell you later at the dance.’
‘We’re gonna have to pre-set these, you know.’
He stopped at the door, grinning over his shoulder. ‘Now, where would be the sense in that? I’ve got to keep you on your toes somehow.’
Molly lifted an available tea towel and threw it in his direction. ‘Go away and do Park Ranger things before I’m forced to do something I’ll regret, Callaghan.’
His deep laughter forced an answering grin from her. ‘There you go, making promises you can’t keep again. One of these days I think I might just stick around and see what that thing you might regret might be…’.
‘That’ll be the day.’
Ryan lived to be outdoors. In all the time Molly had known him he’d been his happiest under an open sky. Being Head Park Ranger and running the daily operations of a large forest park was the ideal job for him and Molly knew it. She smiled at him across the crowd at the summer barbecue and dance held for the residents of the local village of Boyle, wondering how the villagers managed to take him seriously.
At that precise moment two businessmen and their wives—though it had to be said probably more so the wives—stood enthralled as he spoke. He was a well-respected member of the small community, and yet they never seemed to see the clownish side of him that Molly knew so well. She wondered how they’d react if they knew about the wicked sense of humour he possessed, and the rare talent he had for torturing his friends.
Taking a sip of warm red wine, she smiled up at the wide expanse of darkened blue sky. She breathed deeply. It was good to be home again. Nowhere else filled her soul with the same peace she felt in Ireland. Then she turned her attention to the crowd. It was a hobby of hers, people-watching.
The local community had grown considerably since she had been away, and there were more than a few faces she didn’t know in the crowd. A sign of the times, she guessed, with a new bypass making it easier for people to commute to the larger towns for work. But the surroundings hadn’t changed at all since the summers she had spent running wildly through the park’s many acres and swimming in the often chilly waters of its lough.
As she turned to look across the dark waters a voice sounded close beside her.
‘Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met?’
Molly had long since ceased to believe in the tingling sensation described in romance novels when a woman heard a stranger’s voice for the first time. But all of a sudden she understood it now. The man’s voice was deep and undeniably sexy. Intriguing, even.
Turning, she found herself looking up at the brightest of blue eyes. The handsome tanned face was one she didn’t recognise.
She smiled, unconsciously brushing her auburn hair behind her ear. ‘No, I think I’d probably have remembered meeting you.’
The fair-headed man smiled. ‘That’s exactly the reason I knew I hadn’t met you.’ He extended a large hand towards her. ‘I’m Nick—Nick Scallon. I just moved into the house over by Doon Cottages.’
‘Aha, that’d make you the property tycoon guy we’ve all heard so much gossip about for the last few months. You’re running the holiday cottages now, then, I take it?’ She shook his hand and was embarrassed to find he held onto her smaller hand for a moment longer than he needed to. ‘You’re the main topic of conversation in the supermarket, you know.’
‘I’ll just bet I am.’ He looked down at her hand in his. Seeming to remember he needed to let go of it, he allowed it to slip from his hold. ‘And you would be?’
Impressed was nearly her answer, but she managed to replace it with another. ‘Molly O’Brien. I, uh, live over at Ryan Callaghan’s.’
‘Oh.’
She nearly fell over herself to correct his assumption. ‘We’re friends—I mean, I’ve known Ryan all my life—like a brother kind of a thing—I mean, we’re not actually…’
Nick smiled as she blushed. ‘Well, that’s all right, then. He’ll not kill me if I ask you to dance will he?’
Molly realised what an idiot she’d just made of herself and cringed inwardly. ‘No, no. He’ll not mind at all.’
Ryan was walking towards the refreshment table when they first caught his attention. He very nearly broke his neck with the speed of his own double-take. She hadn’t even mentioned she’d met Nick Scallon, let alone knew him well enough to be drooling all over the man’s shoes.
Selecting a bottle of beer from the table, he moved around the makeshift flooring until he found a tree to lean against.
God, could he hold onto her any tighter? How could she breathe? Ryan had seen Molly with other men before—well, maybe not that many men. It had been before she’d gone to the States, and she’d been younger then, so he supposed they had been—well, younger men. But he couldn’t remember ever having been irritated by it. In a gut-wrenching, testosterone-induced kind of a way, anyway. What was with that?
After all she was Molly—just Molly. Molly, who he tortured on a regular basis, even though he should be mature enough to know better. It wasn’t his business to be irritated by who she did or didn’t dance with. It was just that…
He took a long swig of his beer before deciding that it was just that he’d got used to having her to himself again. At least since she’d come home. Yeah, that was it. If she started going out with Nick ‘Mr Smarmy’ Scallon then he wouldn’t see as much of her, and he guessed he’d miss that. But then, he’d be seeing less of her when her house was finished and she moved out, so that was no big deal, right? Maybe it was just that massive sense of protectiveness he’d always felt towards her. That and the sudden dislike he had for Mr Smarmy. A very sudden dislike, in fact.
Nick said something that had Molly laughing and Ryan was slightly more irritated. He swigged down more amber liquid.
‘Why, Ryan, what are you doing, hiding under here?’
He gulped more beer. Hiding from limpet-like women? This was just great—his night was completed now that Maura Connell was by his side. With curiosity he wondered how someone so well spoken could manage to have the same effect on his nerves as fingernails down a blackboard. Somehow he managed to force a smile.
‘Maura, how lovely to see you—and may I say how…’ His eyes glanced down over the expensive trouser suit he thought completely over-the-top for an outdoor barbecue. ‘How very, uh, smart you look.’
Her brown eyes narrowed slightly but she recovered quickly. ‘Why, thank you. You men are just always so flattering with your words. Especially strong, outdoorsy types like yourself. But I guess we women are used to it by now.’
Thanks. ‘That’s very understanding of you.’ He glanced across the dance floor. Were they dancing closer? How’d that happen? Osmosis?
Maura noticed his frown and followed the line of his gaze. She smiled silkily. ‘Well, I see Molly has an eye for the money in town. I didn’t realise she knew Nick.’
Nick. Ryan noted how Maura spoke his name as if she knew him intimately. ‘They’re just dancing. There’s no reason to get jealous.’
‘I’m not the jealous one here, Ryan.’ She linked her arm through his, moving closer to his side. ‘I think we both know where my interests lie, and at least with Molly dancing with Nick the rumour mill can have a rest about you two. And I can take more of a public interest in you myself. I think it’s about time you and I got to know each other better.’
He coughed to clear her strong perfume from the back of his throat, gently removing her arm from his. ‘What little rumour about us two would that be, Maura?’
It was notable how he had managed to evade her proposition. Maura wasn’t best pleased by the snub. ‘Why, half the village thinks you and Molly are sleeping together. Didn’t you know?’
‘What?’
‘Oh, come on, Ryan. It’s a small community, an old-fashioned one at that. What else did you think they were going to say about you two living together?’ She smiled, seeming to forgive him for the recent snub. ‘But we could put paid to that rumour simply enough, you know….’
