The Notorious Groom. Caroline Cross
sigh, squeezed her eyes shut and told herself impatiently that she might as well just spit it out. “My birthday is a week from Sunday and I have to get married,” she said all in a rush.
There was a deafening silence. Norah waited tensely, then screwed up her courage and opened her eyes.
Her heart plummeted when she saw Eli’s expression. He looked...stunned. Perturbed. And—oh, dear!—annoyed. Clearly she’d overstepped her bounds. She never should have come here, never should have entertained such a far-fetched idea.
“Tell me who he is,” he said grimly, “and I’ll take care of him.”
It was her turn to look stunned. Then heat flooded her face as it dawned on her what he thought. “No. Oh, no, I didn’t mean...I’m not...I’ve never..” She paused, trying to calm herself, only to hear herself blurt out, “It...it’s my grandfather.”
“What?” He jerked upright. “I thought he was dead.”
“Oh, he is! More than three years. But he had very old-fashioned ideas and he left a will and—”
“Norah.” Although he didn’t raise his voice, Eli’s tone stopped her cold. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I have to get married. By a week from next Sunday. Otherwise, if I’m still single when I turn thirty-four, I lose Willow Run.”
He stared at her incredulously. “Hold on a minute. You want to marry me so you can keep your house?”
“Yes. Exactly! I thought.. it’s just...Willow Run is so big. You and Chelsea could live there until you get matters settled with your insurance company. And if you wanted to, you could convert the old carriage house into a temporary garage, so you could get back to work. You’d be able to save money because you wouldn’t have any overhead—”
He shook his head. “It’s nice of you to think of me, but I really don’t think—”
“Please, Eli!” Desperation gave her the courage she needed to continue. “I.. I realize now that Chelsea must have misunderstood and you don’t need any assistance, but I do. I don’t want to lose Willow Run. Surely after losing your own home, you can understand. Besides, this would be a temporary arrangement. Lasting only a few months, or even less, depending on how long it takes the probate judge to sign off on Grandfather’s estate once he has a copy of our marriage certificate. And Willow Run would be a wonderful place for Chelsea to spend the summer. She’d have her own room, and there’s a tree house and a pond and lots of space to play and explore. She could have friends over to spend the night, and you and I, well, we wouldn’t even have to see each other if we didn’t want to.” She looked at him beseechingly as she ran out of breath.
He stared back, his expression impossible to read. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he said finally.
“Oh, yes.”
He tapped his fingers against the counter. “But it’s crazy. Damn, it’s worse than crazy, it’s probably illegal.”
Swallowing her surprise that he cared, she shook her head. “No. It was Grandfather’s attorney who suggested it. He was against the provision in the will in the first place. He...he says it’s archaic.”
Eli raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, maybe you should many him then.”
Her heart sank. Clearly he’d already come to a decision, and it wasn’t the one she’d hoped for. “I believe that would be considered a conflict of interest,” she said in a small voice. “Plus, he already has a wife.”
“Bummer. But that doesn’t mean I’m the next logical choice. Think what marrying me would do to your reputation. The entire town would go into shock. We both know I’m not exactly a role model. There’s got to be somebody more suitable.” He thought for a moment. “I know. How about Ken McDonald?”
“He got married last week.”
“Ian Koontz.”
“He moved to Portland in April.”
“Joey Carmicheal.”
“He’s living with someone.”
“Then how about Matt Winfrey?”
Norah plucked listlessly at her skirt. “That’s who Joey’s living with.” She told herself she shouldn’t feel so devastated. She’d known Eli was a long shot. At least he hadn’t thrown back his golden head and laughed at her. It wasn’t his fault she was out of options.
Swallowing her misery, she climbed to her feet. “I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me.”
“No problem.” Eli hesitated, then said slowly, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure.” She started toward the door. Some sixth sense warned her that he was right behind her, but for once she didn’t care. “I guess I could speak to Nick Carpetti....”
“Nick Carpetti? I thought he was in jail.”
“He’s out on parole,” she said absently.
“Yeah, but still...I don’t think that’s a good idea, Boo.”
She shrugged dispiritedly. “There isn’t anyone else. Unless—” She stopped and turned to look up at him. “Will you just think about it? Please, Eh?”
He was silent, his perfect mouth pursed as he considered her plea. Finally he blew out an exasperated breath. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll think about it. But that’s all I’ll do. Don’t get your hopes up. You need to consider some alternatives.”
“Oh, I will I promise.” He was going to think about it! She couldn’t contain a tremulous smile. “I’ll call you, okay? Or you can call me. Or...or come by the house or whatever you choose.” Filled with renewed hope, she reached for the doorknob, anxious to escape before he changed his mind. She tugged, only to give a little squeak as he caught her by the arm and gently spun her around.
“There’s just one more thing,” he said.
She stared up at him, her heart thumping as she saw the glint lighting his eyes. She wet her lips. “What’s that?”
“I just want to say that I appreciate the proposal.” He planted his hand against the door frame only inches from her head. “I always suspected you had the hots for me. Now I know.”
“Oh, no.” She tried to lean back, but there was nowhere to go. “I don’t! I mean—” Her eyes widened in horror as she realized she’d just unintentionally insulted him. “I mean, I like you, but not that way....” Her assurance died a quick death as his mouth slowly curved in a wicked smile.
“You one hundred percent sure about that, Boo, honey? Maybe we should find out.”
“Oh, no. I don’t...that is—”
He dipped his head, so close that she could smell the clean, slightly musky scent of his skin.
With a frantic squeak, Norah did what she’d always done in the past where Eli was concerned. She pushed him away, yanked open the door and fled.
Eli stood on the stoop and watched Norah’s panicky escape. Since she was on foot, as usual, he had a few minutes to reflect on their encounter before she finally turned the corner at the end of the block and disappeared from sight.
He shook his head. Good old Bunny-Boo, with her wide gray eyes and her stick-straight, mud-colored hair in that oversize bun. Not only did she look the way she had in high school, small, earnest and pale, with her body swaddled in one of her trademark lace-collared granny dresses, but she was just as easy to rattle. A little provocative innuendo and whammy! Faster than you could say Peter Rabbit, she’d regressed into her adolescent run-for-cover routine.
Not that he’d been much better, he admitted ruefully, knowing he ought to be ashamed of his less-than-gentlemanly