The Wedding Party

“Josh?” she asked, not following his conversation, probably because she was so surprised he was making the effort to talk to her. Eight years ago, except for one night, he’d never bothered to say much of anything to her other than an occasional curt, “Don’t you have a home?”

She hadn’t then. Or now. She glanced into the backseat where Lara still slept peacefully, her curls tangled around her face. Love filled Abby’s heart. Until she’d had her baby, she’d never known how much love one could feel.

“Dr. Josh Towers is the man Molly’s marrying tomorrow. I thought you and my sister kept in close contact,” he said with a hint of his old disapproval. As if he didn’t understand why Molly would want to remain in contact with her. “You don’t know the name of her fiancé?”

“Molly and I talk every day either by phone or e-mail.” And she’d hardly mentioned her fiancé. Of course, Molly had only just gotten engaged—to a man she obviously didn’t love. Not that Abby knew anything about love except what she felt for her daughter. “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“What?”

“The wedding. They hardly know each other.”

The muscles in his arm rippled as he gripped the steering wheel. “Since her first year of college, Molly has worked summers at the hospital where he’s on staff. She’s known him a long time.”

“No, she hasn’t. They’ve only just started dating.” Frustration churned Abby’s stomach. She’d tried to talk to Molly, tried to convince her to wait before she leaped into something as serious as marriage. Molly wasn’t the type to act impetuously—she’d always been as responsible as her older brother. “I thought you, of all people, would be against this shotgun wedding.”

“It’s hardly that.”

“You’ve always been so practical, so…”

“Boring?” he finished for her, a muscle jumping in his jaw. He knew how she’d seen him in the past, and he could only imagine what she thought of him now since she’d lived in big cities and he’d stayed here. In Cloverville. Not that he cared what she thought of him. His concern was for Molly. Abby couldn’t be right about the wedding. Molly was too smart, too responsible to act as impulsively as Abby always had.

“Judgmental,” she answered.

The comment stung, even though it shouldn’t have, even though he knew she was only trying to get a rise out of him, just as she always had. No matter how hard he’d tried, she’d made it impossible for him to ignore her.

“I’m judgmental? Really?” he challenged her, then pointed out, “I haven’t said anything about…” He lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror, which reflected back the image of her daughter. Damn, she was a cute kid, just like her mother had been.

A breath hissed out of her with an offended whisper. “Clayton!”

He didn’t care that she was a single mother. Despite her accusation, he didn’t judge anyone. But he really wanted to know why she was a single mother. Had she decided to raise her daughter alone or hadn’t she had a choice? Had she turned down the father’s offer of marriage, turned off the idea from the poor example her parents had set for her? Or had the guy taken off on her? “Why aren’t you married, Abby?”

She snorted. “I should have known you were just acting back at the airport, when you were being nice to Lara. You’re still a judgmental jerk.”

Instead of anger, amusement coursed through him. She remained a combination of sass and attitude. He could see her turning down marriage, determined to maintain her independence. He persisted. “Why aren’t you married?”

“None of your damned business, Clayton.”

She was right. Her life was none of his business, but he wanted to know about Lara’s father. He could imagine the kind of guys Abby dated: wild, irresponsible, exciting. His guts twisted into knots at the thought of Abby in some other guy’s arms, in some other guy’s bed, naked…

He tapped the brakes on his thoughts and the SUV slowed almost to a stop at the entrance to Cloverville Park. “Look there, Abby. Not everything’s changed. They still haven’t managed to fix the colonel.”

Her head turned to where the bronze statue of the town founder, Civil War hero Colonel Clover, stood among the ornamental trees and flowers. His hat was dented, his left ear mangled, his neck at an odd angle with a crude welding job only just holding his head in place, as well as his arms and legs. Her breath hissed out again. “Can’t the damn town hire someone to fix him properly? It’s been eight years.”

Eight years since she’d been expelled from high school for vandalizing the town park by plowing her car across it and knocking over Colonel Clover. She’d been lucky to come out of the crash without even a scratch. His younger sister, Colleen, who’d been in the car, too, had been hurt however. Her face had been cut by the broken windshield and her ribs bruised.

The harsh words he’d said to Abby that night rolled through his mind. “Troublemaker” had been the nicest thing he’d called her. God, if Colleen had been hurt any worse…With his father dying, his family hadn’t been able to handle any more tragedy.

He glanced to the backseat, to the little girl who was dependent on Abby alone. Poor kid. That was what his father had called Abby, when he’d told Clayton to go easy on her, to give her a chance since she was a remarkable young lady. That was one of the last things his father had ever said to him, because he’d died just a few days later.

Clayton blinked. He should have listened to his dad and been easier on her then. She’d only been a kid. Now, sitting next to him, staring wide-eyed at the park, she didn’t look a lot older despite the eight years that had passed and motherhood.

“I guess it’s true what they say,” Abby said, her voice soft. “You can’t come home again.”

When she turned to him, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears, his guts twisted with regret over how she’d left town, and with anxiety over her return. Although Abby Hamilton had grown up, he had no doubt she would still cause trouble.

For him.

Chapter Two

Abby leaned into the backseat, brushing the tangle of damp curls from Lara’s sleeping face before unclasping her safety belt. Strong hands gripped Abby’s waist, the heat of his palms burning through the thin cotton of her tank top. Her heart jumped. Startled, she lifted her head, smacking it against the roof as he gently tugged her out of the doorway.

“I’ll get her,” Clayton said, pushing Abby aside.

Some things never changed. She brushed a hand over her scalp, checking for a bump as she glared at him. But he’d already turned away to lift out her daughter, settling her sleeping head against his broad shoulder. Abby’s heart shifted again at how right Clayton looked with a child in his arms. Her child.

“You’re going to hurt yourself lifting her. She’s nearly as big as you are,” he murmured, staring over Lara’s head at Abby. “You never grew.”

Maybe not physically. But emotionally she had. She knew better than to ever expect a man such as Clayton to be interested in her. She didn’t attract the responsible kind. She only attracted the ones who wanted to use her, not love her. But then, maybe the men weren’t the problem. If her parents were any indication, she was simply unlovable.

“Abby!” a voice squealed as a group of women rushed off the wide front porch of the Kellys’ Victorian. The yellow structure, with its brightly painted teal-and-purple trim, resembled the gingerbread houses the Kelly family baked for their customers every Christmas.

The trio of women enveloped Abby, their voices raised with excitement. She’d always had that effect on Brenna Kelly and Clayton’s two sisters. Molly and Colleen had been studious and mature beyond their years until Abby had arrived on the scene with her boundless energy and enthusiasm. While Clayton had worried about her influence on his siblings, his father had said they needed her to lift their spirits and show them how to have fun. Dad had even gone so far as to suggest that Clayton could benefit from her company, too. But Clayton didn’t need any more responsibilities.

Roused by the babble of voices, Lara opened her eyes, blinking her long, thick lashes before gazing blearily up at Clayton. He tensed, expecting a fearful outburst of tears. After all, he was a stranger, and the little girl had been shy back at the airport. But her rosebud lips formed themselves into a smile, and she settled against his shoulder with a contented sigh. His heart clenched, as if someone had just wrapped a small hand around it.

“If Mom gets a load of you like that, you’re in trouble,” Colleen teased, her brown eyes alight with mischief as she stepped back from the huddle around Abby and stared at him.

“For what?” Abby asked, her brow puckered in confusion as her attention shifted back to Clayton and her daughter.

“For hogging her baby,” Molly said, reaching out to run her fingers gently over Lara’s head. “Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured.

Colleen’s mouth lifted in a wide smile. “Mom’s been nagging Clayton for grandchildren. If she sees him looking so natural with a child in his arms…”

“I like kids,” Clayton assured the women and the little girl who stared up at him again, her blue eyes wide with interest in the conversation. “Other people’s kids.”

“You obviously haven’t met Josh’s twins yet,” Colleen murmured with a weary sigh.

“They’re good boys,” Brenna said, the redhead jumping to the defense of the groom’s children while Molly remained silent, her face pale and unreadable.

Was Abby right? Had Molly accepted this proposal too soon? Clayton needed to get his sister alone for a serious conversation. Since she’d come home from med school just two short weeks ago, he hadn’t had many opportunities to talk to her. At the time he’d thought she was simply busy with wedding plans, but now he suspected Molly might have been avoiding him.

She turned, leading the way across the lawn and back toward the front porch. “We’ve been holding dinner for you,” she said over her shoulder as she climbed the wide steps.

“I’m sorry we missed the rehearsal,” Abby apologized to her friends. “I should have taken an earlier flight.”

“You couldn’t predict the delays at O’Hare,” Brenna insisted.

Abby laughed, the musical tinkle raising the hairs on Clayton’s arms. “This isn’t my first trip,” she said, refusing to relinquish responsibility. “I should have factored in the possibilities of technical difficulties.”

The old man had spoken the truth at the airport. Regret, over misjudging her, knotted Clayton’s stomach. She hadn’t caused problems on purpose. This time.

“Is the rest of the wedding party here?” Abby asked.

Molly shook her head, tumbling her brown curls around her shoulders. “Eric…left me a voice mail. He can’t come.”

“Tonight?” Abby sighed. “Well, I’ll get to talk to him tomorrow. We can catch up then.”

“He’s not coming tomorrow, either,” Molly said, her voice ragged with emotion.

“Is he okay?” Clayton asked, lost in the conversation as significant looks passed between the four women. He’d never had friends as close as they were. Their mastery of silent communication with mere glances had always frustrated him. He’d felt left out. Despite being only a few years older than most of them, he didn’t fit in. He’d never known how to have fun the way they did.

“Eric’s okay,” Brenna answered. “Can you fill in for him tomorrow and walk Abby down the aisle?”

Abby’s breath caught at the idea of walking down an aisle with Clayton. She shook her head, puzzled by the flash of panic she’d felt. She didn’t intend to marry anyone, ever, and risk a situation like the one her parents had known. “That isn’t necessary.”

She hoped there wouldn’t even be a wedding. From the tight expression leeching the color from Molly’s beautiful face, Abby knew she was right—that going through with this wedding would be the only mistake Molly McClintock had ever made. Not counting the tattoo, of course, but Abby had talked her into that. This mistake Abby needed to talk her out of.

“You can’t walk down the aisle by yourself, when everyone else will have a partner,” Brenna insisted. “It wouldn’t look right.”

Abby was used to not “looking” right. She reminded them, “Clayton has another, more important responsibility. He’s giving away the bride.”

Judging by the gleam in his dark eyes, she suspected he couldn’t wait to carry out that particular role. Maybe he thought Molly’s marriage would lessen the family pressure on him to reproduce.

Disappointment tugged at her heart. She’d thought Clayton one of the few selfless people she knew, but she shouldn’t be surprised that she’d misjudged a man. She’d done the same with Lara’s father, thinking him a man she could trust, and being proven wrong.

With a steady job and a serious demeanor, he’d reminded her of Clayton. Unlike the oldest McClintock sibling, Jeff had refused to take on any responsibility. He’d even refused to believe that Lara was his and that the contraceptive had failed. But Abby wasn’t like her mother. She didn’t sleep around, and she’d actually thought she’d loved him until he let her down—like everyone else. She didn’t know which of them was the bigger fool—Jeff for failing her and Lara, or Abby for trusting him in the first place.

“Clayton can walk down the aisle with you and give away the bride,” Mrs. McClintock said, as if she’d been listening all along, rather than jumping into the conversation as the group joined her in the kitchen of the Kelly house.

“So how was your trip, honey?” she asked Abby, setting down a bowl of salad and enveloping her in a hug.

Abby stretched her arms around Mrs. McClintock’s back, holding tight to the older woman’s softness and warmth. The mingled scents of vanilla and cinnamon clung to the woman’s shoulder-length brown hair. She probably dyed it now, as she had not even a strand of gray, and this woman had earned more gray hairs than anyone Abby knew. She’d survived the loss of her beloved husband and the raising of four headstrong children. Abby’s heart stretched with admiration and love for the woman she’d always wished had been her mother, too.

Nearly choked with emotion, Abby managed to say, “The flight was fine.”

And the flight, although late, had been fine. The ride to Cloverville, thanks to Clayton, had not. At least he’d answered the question she’d carried with her for the past eight years. He would never let her forget about the screwed-up girl she’d once been. In his eyes, at least, she would always be the legendary troublemaker from Cloverville.

Mrs. McClintock released Abby, to reach for Lara and take the drowsy child from Clayton’s arms. “Oh, she’s gotten so big since the last time I was in Chicago. She looks more and more like you every time I see her.”

Every time she saw her. Molly wasn’t the only family member Clayton intended to get alone for a conversation. Why had his mother never told him about Abby’s daughter?

More importantly, why did his arms feel so empty right now without Lara? He drew in a deep breath, catching a whiff of grilling beef through the open patio doors. Mr. Kelly was as renowned for his barbecuing as his baking, but Clayton’s hunger barely stirred. Abby Hamilton had been back in town for little more than an hour and already he’d lost his appetite.

He glanced over at her, grudgingly appreciative of how her curves filled out the white tank top and tight jeans. Her friends were all in casual dresses because of the rehearsal, but here she was, still dressed like a teenager. A damned sexy one, he had to acknowledge. Apparently he’d only lost his appetite for food.

But more than her body drew his interest. Her face softened with affection as she gazed at his mom and her daughter. Her expression of love touched something deep in his chest, bringing about another kind of longing—one he had no business feeling.

“Clayton, where’s Erin?” his mother asked.

“Erin?” he repeated, distracted.

“She means Ellen,” Colleen said. Even outside the agency, she sometimes acted like her brother’s office manager. “Weren’t you bringing her tonight?”

“She couldn’t make it.”

“A lot of people couldn’t make it tonight,” Brenna noted, as she picked up tongs to finish tossing the salad greens. The maid of honor’s voice deepened with frustration when she added, “Even the best man didn’t show up. It’s going to be pure chaos tomorrow.”

Despite her friend’s concern, Abby smiled. They had always considered Brenna the mother of the group. She liked being in control almost as much as Clayton did, which was why she’d already taken over and expanded her parents’ bakery. Abby had occasionally wondered why Clayton had never gotten together with the voluptuous redhead, since they had so much in common. But he’d always treated Brenna simply as if she were one of his sisters. Maybe it was because she shared the same Irish and Italian heritage the McClintocks had. Or maybe it was because Clayton had approved of Brenna, whereas he’d never approved of Abby.

Eight years had passed, and she didn’t seek his approval anymore—his or anyone else’s in Cloverville. She’d only come back for Molly’s wedding. The bride-to-be slid her arm around Abby’s waist. “So you’re not the only one who won’t know what she’s doing tomorrow,” Molly teased.

Abby bit her tongue, holding back her comments about Molly not knowing what she was doing, either. Along with learning how to manage her ADD, she’d acquired some tact over the years. If only she could remember those lessons around Clayton….

But he distracted her. “I’m going to join the guys outside,” he said as he stepped through the open doorway, obviously anxious to escape her presence.

Lara, however, wasn’t eager to let him go. She wriggled out of Mrs. McClintock’s arms. “Can I go, too, Mommy?” she asked. When Abby reluctantly offered a nod, the child ran out after him, reaching for Clayton’s hand as two boys about her age ran up to them. They were dark-haired, blue-eyed miniatures of the man who stood beside Mr. Kelly at the grill. But Lara was obviously not charmed by their cuteness, and she clung to Clayton until the twins ran off across the backyard.

“Clayton has a fan,” his mother said, grinning as she picked up the salad bowl and joined the others on the patio, leaving Molly, Brenna, Colleen and Abby alone in the kitchen.

A wide smile spread across Colleen’s face. “This is so great. We’re all here together again.”

“Except for one of us.” Molly reminded her younger sister of Eric’s absence.

Abby had a pretty good idea about why Eric had backed out of being a groomsman. She imagined he would still probably rather be Molly’s groom. Apparently a lot of things hadn’t changed.

“It’s so great to have you home, Abby,” Colleen exclaimed, throwing her arms around Abby’s neck.

Despite her concern over the impending marriage, Abby’s heart swelled with happiness. She patted Colleen’s back. “Hey, it’s not like you guys haven’t seen me in years. You’ve visited me. Not often enough,” she playfully observed, “but at least you’ve visited.”

“It’s not the same as having you here,” Colleen insisted. “Now that you’ve given up your place in Chicago, you need to move back to Cloverville. You can open the third branch of Temps to Go here.”

The request wasn’t exactly new. Abby had fielded it repeatedly in phone calls, letters and e-mails. She’d never been able to make Colleen understand that, to her, Cloverville could never be home. So instead of arguing, she changed the subject. “Brenna, did you hire any strippers for tonight?”

Colleen’s thin body shook with laughter. With her graceful build and gorgeous face, the girl could have been a supermodel rather than an office manager. But like her big brother, she might have assumed her career out of a sense of obligation. Or guilt—as Abby well knew.

Regret dimmed Abby’s happiness as she considered the part she’d played in Colleen’s guilt. Maybe Clayton was right. Maybe she had caused too much trouble in the McClintock household.

“Strippers?” Colleen shook her head. “You haven’t met the groom yet. No stripper could measure up to him.”

“We’re not having strippers,” Brenna insisted, her expression strained. Not that she would disapprove of strippers—Brenna Kelly was no prude. Was she stressed with her responsibilities as maid of honor? From the long-distance conversations she’d had over the past few weeks, Abby suspected Brenna had more interest in planning the wedding than the bride had. And maybe more interest in the groom.

“It looks like dinner’s ready,” the redhead murmured as she stepped outside to join the others on the patio.

“Come on,” Colleen pleaded with her sister. “You can share Josh with us for one night. You’re going to have him for the rest of your life.”

What little color there had been in Molly’s face drained away, leaving her skin almost translucent.

“The thought of spending the rest of my life with one particular someone would give me the willies, too,” Abby admitted. Not that anyone would want her forever. Even her own parents hadn’t wanted her.

Molly shook her head. “No, it’s just that…”

“What?” Abby persisted, hoping Molly would finally admit to her doubts.

But the brunette laughed. “I haven’t even seen him naked yet.”

Colleen sighed. “What a waste. But at least Clayton will be happy you saved yourself for marriage.”

Abby suspected that her friend had waited to make love to Josh for a reason other than her big brother’s approval. Molly didn’t love her groom. And if she couldn’t sleep with him, she certainly couldn’t marry him.

MOLLY’S DARK EYES welled with tears, summoning every protective instinct Clayton possessed. What had Abby said to her? They’d only been alone together in the house for a few moments.

He asked his brother Rory to entertain Lara and went over to Molly. “Honey, are you okay?” he asked, using the same tone he had with Lara. His sister seemed as vulnerable and afraid as Abby’s daughter had when she’d met him at the airport. Yet Molly had always been the strongest of his three siblings.

What had Abby said to her? He turned his attention from his sister to the blond troublemaker, and although she never slowed her conversation with his mother and Mrs. Kelly, Abby met his stare and then closed one eye in an audacious wink.

Molly laughed, even as the tears shimmered on her lashes. “Nothing much has changed between the two of you,” she commented.

“What do you mean?” There had never been anything between the two of them but animosity.

“You can’t keep your eyes off each other.”

Clayton’s pulse quickened. Did Abby watch him in the way that he watched her? “I’m just making sure she’s not starting trouble again.”

“Isn’t that excuse getting old, Clayton?”

Maybe it was. But he wasn’t about to admit his attraction to Abby, not even to himself. Nothing could come of it. Abby hadn’t been able to wait to leave Cloverville, and there was no way she was staying now. And even if she did, he wasn’t interested.

“Look at you, Mol. You’re crying. She’s only been back a little while and she upset you.”

“These aren’t those kind of tears,” Molly insisted.

“You’re happy?”

Her gaze slid away from his. “I’m happy Abby’s back home, where she belongs. I hope she stays.”

Clayton’s stomach dropped. He hoped she didn’t. He didn’t know how long he could deny the attraction. “Are you happy about tomorrow?” he asked. “About getting married?”

Molly gestured, hand shaking, toward where the groom-to-be stood near the grill, a twin on each arm, like matching blue-eyed, dark-haired bookends. “He’s a great guy. Successful, handsome, generous and a wonderful father.”

But did she love him? Hell, what did Clayton know about love? Only that it could hurt so much he didn’t intend to learn any more about it than he already knew. He’d seen his mother’s devastation when his father died, and he didn’t intend to risk that kind of pain himself. It was better to feel nothing, he was certain.