The Wedding Plan. Abby Gaines
sucked in great gasps of air, his color quickly returning to normal.
“Are you okay?” Merry asked, as the other drinkers applauded.
He nodded, rubbing his throat. “Yeah.” It came out as a croak. He glanced around. “I thought it was all over. Who…?”
Lucas stepped forward, hand outstretched, as relaxed as if he regularly performed the Heimlich maneuver ten times before breakfast. “You must be Patrick. I’m Lucas Calder.”
Patrick’s handshake looked disappointingly limp, but, heck, the guy had almost died. Lucas saved his life.
“What are you doing here?” Merry asked Lucas.
“You said you were here. I was worried you might be drowning your sorrows alone.” His gaze flicked over Patrick. “I should have known better.”
Patrick was looking him up and down, suspicion blooming on his face. Maybe Lucas didn’t seem quite like the creep Merry had apparently called him. In fact, even in worn jeans and a plain, long-sleeved dark T-shirt, he looked…gorgeous.
If you liked that kind of thing.
Merry realized Patrick was pocketing the wallet and keys he’d left on the table. “Patrick, wait, we haven’t finished our conversation.” I need a fake fiancé.
“I think we have,” he said, his voice still croaky. “If it takes desperation for you to suggest we take our relationship to the next level, Merry, I don’t think we have much going for us. I’ve suspected for a while that only one of us was actually committed to this relationship.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “You’re breaking up with me?”
“Hey, buddy,” Lucas said. “What kind of guy dumps a woman when her dad’s in the hospital?”
Patrick flushed. “You’d better ask Merry that question.”
“Don’t go,” Merry pleaded. “We can work this out.”
“You…” Patrick stopped, mouth open, an arrested expression on his face.
“One thing you ought to know, Merry,” Lucas said.
Patrick leaned forward and barfed. All over her.
“The Heimlich maneuver can cause vomiting,” Lucas said helpfully.
* * *
AS THE BUSSER CLEANED UP the floor, Lucas stood aside, then ordered a fresh glass of wine for Merry, plus a beer for himself. Just as the drinks arrived, along with a fresh bowl of nuts, Merry emerged from the bathroom wearing a red-white-and-blue Pete’s Burger Shack polo. Merline’s, going by its generous sizing. The rolled-up black pants weren’t her own, either. Lucas guessed her clothes were in the plastic grocery bag she set under the table.
“I ordered you a chardonnay,” he said. “Thought I’d save you the hassle of having to show Merline your ID again.”
“A ritual for which I have you to thank.” Merry sat down with a little whoosh of breath. She dug into the bowl of peanuts on the table and crammed a handful into her mouth.
“Careful,” Lucas murmured.
“I’m sure you’ll save my life if I choke,” she said around the nuts. She waited until she’d swallowed before continuing. “Besides, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“I stopped by the hospital again this afternoon,” Lucas told her, “but they still wouldn’t let me see your dad.”
“Thanks for trying,” Merry said. “And thanks again for what you did at the boatyard. You’re not bad in a crisis.”
“You should see me in a war.” He took a swig from his longneck. “So, how’s he doing?”
“Nothing’s changed from what the doctor said when you were there.” She wrapped her fingers tightly around the stem of her wineglass. “He’s dying.”
From the sudden widening of her eyes, Lucas guessed she hadn’t truly admitted it to herself before. Saying the word—dying—left her opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish.
“Take a drink,” Lucas said.
She glugged too big a mouthful and coughed.
“I’m sorry, Merry,” Lucas said. “Maybe he’ll get a donor kidney.”
“Maybe.” Blinking hard, she took a more moderate sip of her wine.
A waitress, one-third Merline’s age and three times prettier, struck a pose next to their table—hip cocked, shoulders thrown back to accentuate her breasts in her low-cut T-shirt. “You guys, like, need anything else?” She batted her eyelashes at Lucas.
“Gosh, yes, thanks so much,” Merry gushed. “Some privacy would be wonderful.”
The girl scowled, dropped the pose and walked off.
Lucas laughed.
“Okay, that was rude of me,” Merry admitted. “But I’m not in the mood.” She propped her chin on one hand, the picture of moroseness. Was that only about her dad? Or…
“I wouldn’t worry about losing Patrick Peacenik if I were you,” Lucas advised.
She glowered. “Thanks for the tip.”
“If the guy’s not willing to stand by you in a crisis…” He didn’t mean to sound quite so contemptuous. But, hey. There were some things a man should do without question. Lucas’s instincts had proved right—from first sight, he’d been irritated by Patrick with his floppy, pretty-boy hair and his bug eyes. Admittedly, the bug eyes were caused by nearly choking to death.
“I might have made it hard for him to be supportive,” Merry confessed. “I asked him for a pretty big favor.”
“You wanted him to run over a potential kidney donor?”
She smiled reluctantly. “That might have been easier. Dad’s got it into his head that he wants to see me safely married before he…you know.”
“You asked Patrick to marry you?” Lucas said, appalled.
“Hey, he supposedly loved me,” she retorted. “Besides, he didn’t have to actually marry me. Just pretend to be engaged for a few days.”
“Is that all?” Lucas set down his beer. “And he said no?”
“He said marriage is too special to devalue in that way,” she muttered.
Lucas snickered. “Poor Merry. No way could you disagree with that.” He knew exactly how she felt about love and marriage.
“Ordinarily, no.” She sipped her wine. “Actually, Dad wanted me to marry you.”
Lucas snorted. “Those must be some drugs they’re giving him.”
“He’s drugged, but lucid. He’s just very worried about me being left alone.”
“Poor guy.” Lucas tried to imagine John saying such a thing. It was an indication of how keenly the man must be feeling his mortality. Even trapped in a sand hole in the desert, Lucas had never doubted his ability to survive. Never found himself coming up with crazy ideas for the people he’d leave behind.
But John was right to be worried. His closeness to Merry and the lack of any other family meant his death would be extra hard on her.
Looking at her, biting her lower lip, just slightly to the left side, the way she always did when she was anxious. That lower lip of hers was remarkably full.... He shifted his focus to his beer, brought the bottle to his mouth.
“What am I going to do?” Merry said. “I can’t bear to see Dad so distressed.”
She appeared so bleak, so hopeless, Lucas felt a tug of response in that deep part of him that