The Wedding Plan. Abby Gaines
father chuffed with satisfaction. “You two have your ups and downs, but you always come back to each other. One day, you’ll sort yourselves out for good.”
Not the most helpful observation, after Baltimore.
“I’m busy,” Merry said. “I have a ton of supplier payments lined up this afternoon.”
“How about I come back when you’re done, and we go for a drink?” Lucas suggested. Not as big a commitment as dinner, but still in a public place. No room for misinterpretation.
She lifted her chin. “I have a date tonight.”
Lucas felt a niggle of irritation. He wanted to apologize, for goodness’ sake.
“Not with that Patrick again,” her dad said disapprovingly. “I thought you broke up.”
“He’s been away the past week or so,” she said. “That’s all.”
Who was Patrick?
Behind Merry, a collie dog rounded the sliding door and padded across the concrete floor.
“You have a visitor,” Lucas said.
“That’s Boo. My new dog.” She snapped her fingers. “Come on, boy, come to Mommy.”
Her voice went all gooey, much the way Dwight’s had when he talked to Mia. Even if it was only about the dog, Lucas figured any sign of softening had to be good.
“You dog-napped Lassie,” he said too heartily. “Way to go, Merry.”
Pointing out the resemblance was a nod to Merry’s favorite movie, a reminder of how well Lucas knew her. But it wasn’t without risk. Merry had insisted they see Lassie on their very first date; Lucas had never been so bored in his life. She’d decried his bluntly voiced opinion as a sign of a lack of emotional depth. He’d accused her of being out of touch with reality.
And there ended Date Number One.
The dog lurched from side to side like a drunken sailor.
“Why is he walking funny?” Lucas asked.
“Shh, he’ll hear you,” she said. “Boo can’t go.”
“Can’t go where?” Lucas asked. Her irises were flecked with gold…he’d never noticed that before.
“Can’t go. He’s constipated. Big-time, long-term. I’ve tried everything.”
“She sure has,” her dad said. “Not even the animal hypnotist could convince that thing to poop.”
The dog’s rolling gait suddenly looked less drunken sailor and more accident-waiting-to-happen.
“Have you tried feeding him whatever my baby sister’s eating?” Lucas asked. “That’ll fix it.”
“Patrick thinks it’s psychological,” Merry said. “Boo’s owner, Ruby, died of a heart attack late last year.”
Boo perked up at his owner’s name, his head swiveling between Merry and Lucas.
As if Lucas cared what her boyfriend thought.
“Patrick is Boo’s vet,” Merry explained. “Boo was boarding with him while Ruby was away on a cruise. After she died, her family didn’t want him, so Patrick offered him to me. He’s the sweetest thing.”
“Boo or Patrick?” Lucas asked.
“Boo—well, both. Though I wouldn’t say Boo’s entirely accepted me as his owner.”
The collie’s long nose nudged Lucas’s knee, as if to say she’s right.
Lucas ignored the dog’s purported emotional distress and homed on the most alarming aspect. “Are you saying this animal hasn’t gone in six months?”
“Of course not.” She tsked. “He’d be dead. But he doesn’t go very often, and it’s not comfortable when he—”
Lucas held up a hand. “I get the picture.” Baby diapers and a constipated collie. Such were the challenges of life in New London.
“How long are you here for, Lucas?” John asked. “What are your plans for life after the navy?”
He glanced at Merry. Since she didn’t look surprised, she must have heard the news, too. “Actually, I have some ideas for how I might be able to get back to the Gulf.”
“Maybe your eye trouble is a message that you should stay home,” Merry said. Unlike the women he dated—the ones he dated for real—she’d never been impressed by his military career.
Sometimes it rankled.
“A message from who?” Lucas demanded. “Al Qaeda? Because that sounds like a damn good reason to go out there again.”
“My hero,” she murmured.
It wasn’t a compliment.
She’d started calling him that back when they were kids, playing war games. Sometimes just the two of them, or sometimes he’d invite her to join him and his buddies. Lucas would set up a scenario that involved rescuing Merry from dire peril, but invariably she’d screw it up. He’d explain to her that the Viet Cong had covered her in honey and staked her to a fire ant mound, but don’t worry, he would trek through the jungle to save her. Simple, right?
Wrong. You could bet that when he turned up at the “anthill,” she would clasp her hands and say, “My hero,” in gratifying tones. Then she’d inform him she’d freed herself by using a magnifying glass and the sun to set fire to the ropes that bound her, and had destroyed the ants by, say, playing music at a deadly pitch only ants could hear. In other words, she didn’t need a hero.
Back then, Lucas never had high hopes for a girl in his platoon. Merry had managed to fall short of even his modest expectations.
He couldn’t think why he’d kept asking her to play.
“You can’t blame Merry for worrying about your safety,” John said happily. He tweaked his daughter’s ponytail. “Looks like your dog wants to go, Merry-Berry.”
Boo was circling around, sniffing the ground.
“I just took him, and he didn’t do anything—but I guess I’ll try again,” she grumbled.
Lucas seized the opportunity. “I’ll come with you.”
She glanced at her father, then pressed her lips together.
“Take your time,” John said archly, as if he imagined they were headed outside for some nookie. He started back toward his work, but after a couple of steps, halted abruptly. Lucas couldn’t see his expression, but recognized the clenching of hands at the older man’s sides, and the way John deliberately loosened the fingers, one by one.
Pain.
Lucas took a step toward him.
Merry pushed past Lucas. “Dad, are you okay?”
Boo whined.
“Fine, Merry-Berry.” John’s smile was obviously forced. “Just some stomach cramping.” He paused, as if counting silently. Then his smile grew more natural; the spasm must have passed. He made a shooing motion. “Off you go.”
She hesitated.
A guy didn’t want a bunch of people nosing around when he was in pain. Lucas jerked his head, indicating Merry should follow him.
Her reluctance was evident, but she came anyway. Which could be a positive sign. On the other hand, her demeanor didn’t exactly scream forgiveness.
I should have called.
CHAPTER TWO
ACT COOL, MERRY INSTRUCTED herself as she and Lucas walked with Boo toward the shingle cove that butted up against the wharf