Marrying The Wedding Crasher

Her slender brows drew together. “Are you telling me you aren’t man enough to confess to your brothers you don’t have a girlfriend?”

She made it sound so cowardly.

He rejected cowardice in favor of practicality and shook his head. “I’m telling you...” His tongue slowed and tried to spin her a lie. “I’m telling you...” Usually, he never stumbled over words, or anything, for that matter. This whole trip was like looking under the hood of a foreign, high-end electric car and not recognizing anything. “I’m telling you that I don’t want my brothers to know I’m single. Everyone is happy with how things are. Your job is to help me keep it that way.”

“You’re such a girl, Messina.” She grinned and slugged his shoulder.

It took Vince a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in. Even then, he wasn’t sure and had to ask, “So you’ll go?”

“I’ll go.” She stretched her legs and put her elbow on the windowsill. “This should be fun.”

Fun? Not hardly. This was survival.

Vince put the truck in gear and headed toward the airport and the wedding, which he was now convinced was as disaster-laden as the combustible oil rig he’d once worked on.

* * *

HARLEY WANTED TO make sure a week spent with Vince would not be fun.

For one thing, she’d packed clothes that were practical, ones she could dress up or dress down. Today, she wore jeans and a tank top because she wanted to reinforce a boundary with Vince—this was a deal, not a date. She shouldn’t have worried. He didn’t talk to Harley much on the flight to California.

She took some of the blame for that. She’d had several restless nights leading up to the trip, worried about bills, her career, and Dan. She’d slept nearly the entire plane ride, as if the farther she went from her old boss and her old life, the more relaxed she became. And when they landed, she’d been in awe. She’d never been out of the South. And California wasn’t the South. Not by a long shot.

In Houston, the buildings were tall and spaced far enough apart you could appreciate their architecture. In San Francisco, the buildings were crammed together and the roads were narrow. She had to crane her neck to see anything.

In the South, you’d leave the city and see miles of rolling hills, towering pines, scrub oak and wide, muddy rivers. In California, you’d barely leave one city, catch a glimpse of a narrow river, a random sheep pasture, or a field of wild grass, and then reach another city.

There were mountains in California and big rolling hills covered with brown grass or green vineyards. Billboards proclaimed wine tasting at the next exit. And the next. And the next. They could have tasted wine all the way to his hometown.

And they might have if they’d been a real couple. If she hadn’t bragged that she had two degrees, they might still be dating. Or not, if Vince had told her he wasn’t interested in having kids. Harley would have considered that as much of a red flag as him assuming a lack of maturity on her part for quitting her profession.

They’d separated before their relationship had had a chance to blossom. It’d been a disappointment to let Vince go and it’d been awkward a time or two at work, but her heart hadn’t broken.

Unfortunately it hadn’t moved on completely, either. This pretense was ridiculous, but it would bring home the fact that she and Vince weren’t destined to be together. Their everyday lives would diverge, just as soon as Harley figured out an acceptable fix to delicate balconies or her four-year clause lapsed. Whichever came first.

They reached Cloverdale and stopped to top off the tank before they drove to Harmony Valley, or what Vince kept calling the middle of nowhere.

“I’ll be right back.” Harley hurried inside the gas station and returned a short time later waving a lottery ticket. “My mother always says you never know when luck is going to find you.” She’d scrounged change from beneath the seat of her truck before they’d left Houston for just such a chance at fortune.

Vince looked as if he thought she should have put her spare change in a bank account. “What does your father say to that?”

“That he got lucky when he found Mom.” Her father may be balding, but he was a true prince. “Do your parents have any funny sayings?”

“Not that I remember.” He steered the rented SUV toward a two-lane road lined with tall eucalyptus. “My dad died when I was in high school.”

“I’m so sorry.” Why hadn’t she known this? The answer lay somewhere between she’d been too busy being flattered that he was interested in her and she hadn’t been curious about his past while she was in his arms. “That must have been hard on everyone. How did your mom take it?”

Vince spared her a hooded glance. “My mom left us before that.”

“Oh, Vince. That’s sad.” She couldn’t imagine her mom leaving the family. “Did she remarry? Did you ever see her again?”

“I found her a couple of years ago.” His voice was flat, as if he was imparting driving directions to the local morgue. “She lives outside Houston. She seems happy.”

Harley angled her knees toward him, prepared to hear all the details. “What did she say when you faced her?”

“I didn’t pursue it. I just found out where she’d been all those years and that was enough.” If Harley had expected him to express hurt or anger with that statement, she’d have been disappointed. There was nothing, not so much as a too rapid eye-blink to indicate his mother’s leaving or location or lack of contact bothered him.

“But...weren’t you curious about why she left? Or why she never looked back?”

“No.” He fell silent, leaving Harley to wonder about his past, his brothers, and what kind of greeting she’d receive as Vince’s girlfriend.

“I’ve been thinking about our relationship,” Harley said. At Vince’s blank look, she added, “You know, our pretend relationship and how we’re going to act in front of others. I say, you can hold my hand every once in a while.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Vince took his foot off the gas. “I need more than handholding to throw my brothers a curve ball when they try to get too personal. Besides, no one’s going to believe we’re a couple if there’s no PDA.”

“Why do we need public displays of affection?” Harley crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to be distracted by the cumulus clouds above a hundred-year-old, two-story farmhouse in the middle of a vineyard, or the contrast of straight lines and flowing curves. “People who date have personal boundaries.”

“We didn’t.” He blinked at the road and then at her. “We walked with my arm around you. I kissed you when I wanted to.”

She practically convulsed with shock. “There will be no kissing!” Because, like everything else, Vince was good at it.

“Nobody’s going to believe that we’re a couple if I don’t kiss you.”

“Why?” The butterflies were fluttering in her chest, practically flying in formation to spell Kiss Him. “Butterflies are stupid,” she murmured.

“What?”

Harley gave herself a mental head thunk. She’d have to be on her toes with Vince or she’d be right back to Waco. “Do you have a reputation for kissing girlfriends in public or something?”

“No!” He gave the SUV more gas. “Where do you get your ideas?”

“From you and your prepubescent statements about PDAs.” She needed to find something else to talk about. “Besides, you said you wanted me to come because of the ex-girlfriend.”

“And then I said I needed you because of my brothers.”

Butterflies and memories of kisses aside, teasing Vince was kind of fun. She’d never gotten under his skin when they were dating, except when they’d argued over her quitting architecture. “Why do you think they worry about you?”

“They don’t worry. They have too much time on their hands,” he grumbled, slowing to make a left turn. “They give me grief about every little thing, so I make it a practice to tell them nothing.”

“Giving grief is what brothers do,” she said smartly. “Take that away and they’re like dogs without a bone. Besides, maybe they should worry about you. I bet they didn’t travel halfway across the United States to find a woman and then not make contact with her.”

“You want to talk about questionable decisions?” He raised his dark brows. “I’m not the one who got roughed up by a boyfriend who also broke her means of employment.”

“If Dan hadn’t busted my saw, I wouldn’t be here helping you.” She needed to correct Vince’s assumption about Dan being her boyfriend. “And he—”

“Helping me?” Vince grumbled louder. “That would require kisses.”

She bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll kiss your cheek when you fix my saw.”

“Lot of good a chaste peck on the cheek will do me when we’re back in Texas.” He’d turned on a side road and slowed to a crawl. “I ordered the parts. It’s a delicate piece of equipment and I might not be able to resuscitate it.”

They approached a dead-end street to the right. A sign with an arrow pointed toward the Messina Family Garage, which was a two-story, two service-bay building several hundred feet down the road. It looked to have been built in the fifties: straight lines, no gables, a box turned upside down. Behind it was a small, equally boring ranch home.

Across the road from the repair shop was a field with about a dozen cars half hidden by tall grass. A handful of people were poking around. Beyond that was a mowed strip of grass near a bridge. On it sat an odd cluster of things. A Volkswagen made of stacked stone, a rusted swing set and an old yellow tractor with what appeared to be a mermaid made of metal riding a bicycle behind it.

A woman in the field waved to them.

“Is that your family?”

“Yes.” The SUV inched forward as if Vince was having second thoughts. “I could loan you money for the saw in exchange for a well-timed kiss or two.”

“You?” A shout of laughter escaped her lips. “Loan me money?”

“What’s so funny?” He braked and faced her, scowling.

“You’re cheap.”

“How can you say that?” His black eyes flashed and he choked the steering wheel. “I took you to Waco. I’m taking you to California. All expenses paid.”

“You’re cheap.” She’d known he was nice, but she hadn’t realized his ego could be so easily bruised. She couldn’t stop smiling. “The first time we went out, we went to a bar and left when happy hour was over.”

“We went after work.” His expression darkened, brows dropping thunderously low. “And first dates aren’t supposed to last more than a few hours.”

“You never brought me flowers. I thought guys your age always brought flowers and wine when a woman cooked for them.” She wasn’t pulling any punches in defense of her No Kissing policy. “And we went places like the art gallery on free entry day and the farmers market, also free. Plus, in Waco, we stayed in one of those budget motels out by the highway.”

“That was the only hotel that had rooms available!” He was practically howling with anger. “And sue me for wanting to go places where we could talk. Maybe that’s more important to someone my age than paying to have someone sit next to me during a movie without learning anything about them.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t like going places and talking to you.” Her smile threatened to slip, because apparently she’d been yakking about herself the entire time they were together without paying attention to him. “I’m just saying—”

“And I decided not to buy you flowers the one time I came to your place for dinner because there was an accident on the interstate and I was running late!” He huffed like a winded bull unsure if he was done seeing red.

She reached over and pressed a hand to his arm, as if to say she understood. They hadn’t exchanged enough words between them in the past, at least, not about his past or a vision of his future. “I see where you’re coming from now. Thank you for offering to buy me a saw, but I can’t accept.” She’d get through this rough patch, even if it took her four years of tile work to do so.

All eyes in the field were pointed their way. Thankfully, with the windows rolled up and the air conditioner on, his family probably hadn’t heard a word of their conversation.

Vince sighed. “I could turn around and put you on a plane home.”

“I’d be willing to bet when we get to the airport you’d hop on the plane with me.” Whatever was bothering Vince about coming home, he needed to face it, just as she needed to continue to try to solve the balcony conundrum.

“You picked a bad time to be right.” Vince parked in a space at the garage. Three tables and several chairs were set up, as if there’d been a lot of outdoor eating going on. “Since you’re a city girl, be prepared for questions about you and about us, and not just from my family.”

She’d forgotten she was touching him. Her hand dropped away. “If not your family, then who?”

“Only the entire town.” He gave her a stern look. “And don’t go telling them I’m cheap.”

“You’re such a girl, Messina.” It needed to be said.

“You won’t think it’s so funny when reality hits.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the field. “They’ll want to know everything about you... About us.”

“I’ll stick to the truth as much as possible.” What was he so worried about? Impulsively she stroked his thick, silky hair from crown to neck, the way she used to when they’d been dating. “It’ll be okay.”

He didn’t look so sure.

“Let’s have a code word,” she said, still feeling protective. “You know, if things start to get out of control, let’s say something like ‘It’s getting hot in here.’ And that’s our cue to make our excuses and leave.”

“Good idea.”

Someone in the field shouted his name.

Harley twisted around. “What are they doing over there?”

“Hauling junkers away, preparing the space for the ceremony. They’ll expect us to help.”

“It’s getting hot in here.”

Vince laughed.

She’d missed his laughter. It was deep and hearty and settled stray butterflies.

“Here they come.” Vince got out of the SUV, as somber and stoic as if they were going to face a zombie apocalypse.

Harley smiled. For the first time since agreeing to be Vince’s date, Harley thought she might actually have fun at this wedding.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE CLOSER VINCE had come to Harmony Valley, the more he’d wanted to turn around.

Harley’s joking banter had helped, but she couldn’t keep him from falling into the past, not when he stood on the property he’d grown up on.

He’d learned to ride a bike on that driveway, with Mom running beside him. He’d learned to throw a football in that field, with Mom cheering him from the sidelines. And then there’d been the milestones she’d missed. His driver’s test. Prom. Graduation.

It’d been worse for Joe, who’d been younger, the baby of the family Mom had doted on. If Joe knew where Mom was, he’d be thrown off-kilter. He might try to contact Mom. Both of them might be hurt. The Messina family was in a safe place. Why rock the boat? Mama drama was the last thing Joe needed just days before his wedding.

“Gosh, the Messina boys are big,” Harley said, standing next to Vince.

His brothers sprinted across the field toward Vince, whooping and hollering as if they were in their teens not their thirties.

Gabe slammed into him first, wrapping his arms around Vince and lifting him a couple inches off the ground. He was a mountain of a man with the strength and rigid posture gained from years in the military. But not even the Marines could wipe away the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Vince!” He dropped Vince back on his feet. “How many years has it been?”

“Almost six.” That’s when they’d gathered for Joe’s first wife’s funeral in Los Angeles.

Joe hugged Vince with a set of hearty backslaps. He was clearly the runt of the family. He’d never filled out the way Vince and Gabe had. “It’s been too long, brother.”

“It has been,” Vince agreed, feeling some of his misgivings evaporate. He attributed it to the lack of humidity in the air, and two family members happy to see him.

“And who have we here?” Gabe claimed Harley’s hand and kissed it.

She laughed and Vince felt a stab of something he didn’t recognize in his chest.

He made the introductions, saving Harley’s hand from Gabe’s because she’d said she didn’t like PDA and probably wouldn’t like it from his come-on-too-strong brother. “Watch out for Gabe. He used to steal my clothes and my girlfriends.”

Harley’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

Vince didn’t let go of her hand. Totally because of appearances.

A pint-size girl wearing dirt-stained coveralls crashed into Vince’s chest next. “Uncle Vince!” His niece Samantha grinned up at him. Her hair was dark brown and just as short as the last time he’d seen her. But instead of looking as if Joe had hacked it with sheep shearers, it was stylishly cut and straightened.

If she was styling her hair, the next step was wearing makeup, talking to boys, and refusing to do oil changes because it wrecked her manicure. “Sam, don’t grow anymore.”

Samantha shushed him. Her cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink than Harley’s. “You’re embarrassing me.” She glanced furtively at a dark-haired teenage boy, who looked to be about thirteen and was staring at Sam the way Sam had once stared at the stuffed beagle Vince had given her when her mother died.

Vince exchanged a quick what-the-heck glance with Joe, who gave him a subtle calm-down gesture.

“And here’s the other love of my life.” Joe introduced his fiancée. “Brittany.”

Vince’s soon-to-be sister-in-law had a thick mane of brown hair with golden highlights, a wide smile that sparkled, and natural makeup. Like Sam, she also wore smudged coveralls. This was no high-maintenance female, even though she ran the town’s beauty salon.

Vince liked Brittany immediately. “Welcome to the family.” He hugged her warmly.

“Call me Brit.” Joe’s bride-to-be inched out of Vince’s hug. “Joe, why do all your brothers have such gorgeous manes?” She ran her fingers through Vince’s hair.

Vince jolted backward until Brit’s hands fell away. “It’s getting hot in here.”

Harley laughed, no help at all.

“Hey, honey, your hands should only be in my hair.” But Joe laughed and added, “And that of your paying clients, of course.”

Harley was still chuckling, ignoring Vince’s SOS, which he decided to excuse when she reclaimed his hand. “Their hair is unreal, isn’t it, Brit?”

“Times three.” Brit ignored Joe’s warning and ruffled Gabe’s hair. “I’m a hairdresser. It’s hard not to touch it.”

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Vince said, meaning it. They all had thick, black hair. So what? Joe’s hair was a bit too long for a man about to be married and Gabe’s was military short. Vince’s was somewhere in between.

“Who cares?” Gabe leaned over to give Brit better access to his scalp. “I could get used to this.”

“Don’t,” Joe said firmly, tugging Brit away from his oldest brother. “I draw the line at making Gabe happy. He teased me mercilessly when we were kids.”

“Oh, Shaggy Joe.” Brit snuggled close to Joe the way Harley had snuggled close to Vince when they were in Waco. “I love your hair best.”

Vince glanced down at Harley, which wasn’t far considering how tall she was. “I think you should limit your hands to my hair, too.” His words came out low and intimate. He might just as well have been saying, You should limit your lips to mine, too.

Harley got the message. She tried to ease away, but Vince held on. To her hand. To her gaze.

“Dear brothers, stop with the googly eyes.” Gabe turned toward the field, looking like he was on duty. “Come on, Sam. When Brit calls your dad Shaggy Joe, it’s time to vacate the premises.”

“Googly eyes are disgusting.” Sam pulled a face.

“Gabe’s complaining about googly eyes?” Vince taunted good-naturedly. “He’s lucky Harley and I don’t make out right now.”

Harley made a disapproving noise. “You’re impossible.”

For show, Vince smiled fondly at Harley. No kisses? Yeah, he’d make her pay a little for that.

His wedding date huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Brad.” Gabe shook his finger at the teenage boy. “If I ever catch you looking with googly eyes at my niece, I’m going to drop you off that bridge.”

Sam gasped and glared at Gabe.

“Why would you say that?” She hissed like an angry cat. “Why?”

“Because I’m your uncle and I love you.” Gabe gave her a devilish grin cut from the same cloth as Vince’s.

“I will never.” Sam raised her hands heavenward. “Look at anyone. Like. That.”

Vince had a feeling Sam would eat those words someday.

Still grumbling, Vince’s teenage niece took off running. Sam’s admirer joined her as she raced past him. Gabe plodded behind them at his own pace.

“Joe, don’t give that boy an inch with Sam.” Vince nodded toward the young pair. “She’s too young to be interested in boys.”

“Brad knows what the rules are and respects them, unlike Gabe at that age.” Joe grinned and it was like looking in a mirror, except for his eyes. Joe was the only Messina who had their mother’s blue eyes. “I hope those are clothes you can get dirty, because we could use an extra pair of hands.”

Vince took stock of his blue jeans and polo shirt, as well as Harley’s similarly casual attire. “We’re good. Are you hooking cars up to the tow truck and taking them somewhere?”

“One at a time?” Joe shook his head. “That would cost a fortune in gas. We found a scrap hauler willing to take the rest away with a double-decker semi-trailer. He comes tomorrow.”

“The rest?” Harley shaded her eyes for a better view. “How many cars are there?”

“Joe already got some running and sold them.” Brit started walking, beckoning Harley to join her. Next to Brit, Harley looked like a beanpole, as if she lacked curves.

So not true.

Harley’s curves were subtle, like her personality.

“We just need to clear the debris between the cars and the road,” Brit was saying. “And then tow them into a line them up on the edge of the pavement for the hauler to take them away.”

“That sounds easy,” Harley said without having any clue how labor intensive it really was.

Vince and Joe fell into step behind the women.

“It would go so much faster if my soon-to-be wife wouldn’t have to look at every piece of debris.” Joe wasn’t fooling anyone with his complaint. His tone was indulgent.

“I’m an upcycle artist.” Brit sniffed and tossed her head. “When I’m not doing hair, junk sculpture is my life.”

“You did the mermaids?” Harley pointed to a sculpture of a mermaid on a bicycle above the service bays.

Vince followed the direction of Harley’s finger.

Designed in metal and painted bright green, the mermaid rode on a red, white and blue surfboard above the service bay doors. There was another mermaid on the grass near the bridge.

“Yep,” Brit said cheerfully. “Mermaids are my thing. You should see the one in my beauty salon. Kiera is my masterpiece.”

Vince couldn’t stop staring at the repair shop. He couldn’t look away. His steps slowed. The sun disappeared behind a cloud.

It should run! It should run! Dad’s freaked-out voice. His silhouette seemed to move through the empty service bay, pacing.

It’ll be all right. Mom’s shadow was close at his heels. Let’s try it again, Vince.

“The place is different now,” Joe said quietly, having stopped beside Vince. “We’ve made changes. It doesn’t feel as if it was ever his.”

His. Their father’s. A man plagued by voices in his head.

“And there’s no trace of her here, either,” Joe said resentfully.

Her. Their mother. A woman who’d spent years trying to make peace with her husband’s many moods to shelter her children from instability, until she became unstable herself.

Vince acknowledged Joe’s comment with a grunt, the only sound he was capable of making.