Christmas Bride Page 5

  “So we’ll do it. We’ll make sure they know they have nothing to feel guilty about. No reason to feel bad for you. But it’s really going to have to be good. If we’re just together for a while and then we break up, it might confirm to them that you’re not over her. You tried but you’re not over her.”

  “So what can I do? What do I need to do?”

  It was so strange that he was looking at her with that kind of trust in his eyes. She couldn’t remember anyone trusting her like that. Except maybe Kayla. “I don’t know exactly. But if you really want them to believe you’ve fallen in love, we need to do what Summer said. Show that you’re really letting go. Figure out something that... that makes them think you’re unbuttoning a little.”

  “Unbuttoning?” He frowned and adjusted the collar of his shirt.

  “Just a little. You have to admit you’re pretty well buttoned-up.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing.” She smiled up at him, reminding herself that this was a plot and that his warm brown eyes didn’t mean what she might want them to mean. “I like you as you are. I’m just saying. If this whirlwind romance is going to be convincing, you probably want to make it seem like you’re being all of yourself. You’re not holding back. And that you’re remembering how to have fun.”

  He was quiet for a minute as he opened the passenger door for her and walked around to the driver’s side. Then he met her eyes and said softly, “I am having fun.”

  Her heart did a silly little bounce. “Me too.”

  Three

  “SO YOU ACTUALLY GOT a ring?” Ruth asked three weeks later.

  “Of course I got a ring.” Carter frowned at her over his shoulder. They were in the kitchen of his family home—a mansion by any estimation and a degree of luxury Ruth still wasn’t used to, even after fake dating him for a month and a half. It was almost nine in the evening, and Carter had called Ruth on his way back from Charlotte an hour ago, explaining his mother was back in town (from a monthlong yoga retreat in the desert). Since tonight would be a good time to casually bump into her and meet her for the first time, Ruth had driven over.

  Since she’d been working all day on the three new jobs she’d gotten thanks to Carter’s contacts and neither one of them had had a chance to eat dinner, Carter had suggested making sandwiches. He was currently slicing a loaf of freshly baked sourdough that looked scrumptious.

  “We’re supposed to get engaged next weekend. How is that supposed to happen without a ring?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I hadn’t even thought about it. It seems a shame to waste money on an engagement ring since it’s going to be for so little time. I hope you didn’t spend too much money on it.”

  “I didn’t spend too much money.” He slanted her another backward look. This one slightly impatient. “And I don’t want to hear any complaints about money. This engagement was your idea. Just remember that. I never would have suggested such a ludicrous scheme.”

  She chuckled at his aggrieved expression. She kind of liked when he was grumpy like that. Not that he was ever mean or even genuinely bad-tempered. Rather, it was like he’d shed the veneer of perfect civility that he nearly always wore.

  The grumpiness made him feel more real.

  “Okay. Can I at least see the ring? Where is it?”

  “It’s hidden safely away. I’m not going to tell you where.”

  “What? So you’re not even going to show it to me?”

  “It’s an engagement ring. It’s not supposed to be seen until the proposal.” Carter was now buttering four thick slices of bread and laying them out neatly on the counter. He already had a pan heating on the stovetop beside him.

  “But it’s not real!”

  “Who cares about that? It will be more convincing if you look genuinely surprised.”

  “I can act surprised. I’m a great actress.”

  Carter appeared to be smiling as he layered sliced cheese—cheddar and gruyere—on the bread. “You’re an okay actress. You’re not as good as you think.”

  “I am too as good as I think!” Her cheeks were warming, and she was strangely flustered. She wasn’t quite sure why. “I mean, I’m good by anyone’s standards.”

  “But you’re more convincing if you’re feeling something for real. So you don’t get to see the ring until the proposal.”

  She grumbled under her breath and tried not to enjoy too much the sight of Carter’s broad shoulders, straight back, and tight butt in his expensive clothes. He was wearing a suit today, but he’d taken off his jacket and tie. The back of his shirt was slightly wrinkled. “The more I get to know you, the more obnoxious you get.”

  “And the more I know you, the more stubborn you get.” He was laughing silently. She could tell because his shoulders were shaking just slightly. “You don’t always have to get your way.”

  “I don’t always expect to get my way!” Her mouth actually fell open at this unprovoked attack.

  “Not in a spoiled way,” he explained. “You’re not spoiled or entitled at all. It’s more that you’re confident in your own decision-making, and you can’t always understand why the world doesn’t follow the sense and discernment of your ideas.”

  Her heartbeat was accelerating now. Jitters awoke deep in her belly. “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “It’s definitely true.” He threw her a quick, amused smile before placing the two sandwiches carefully in the hot pan.

  “Well, if it’s true, it’s only because my decisions are full of sense and discernment. The world should recognize that.”

  He laughed out loud. “Quite true.”

  “So you should show me the ring.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Asshole.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been called an asshole before.”

  The sizzle in the pan was so tempting that Ruth got up to stand beside Carter and watch the progress of the grilled cheese. She was starving. “That’s because you have a sneaky way of hiding your asshole-ness from the rest of the world by pretending to be a nice guy. But I can see it.”

  He gave her another one of those adorable sidelong smiles. “So I’m not a nice guy?”

  “You are a nice guy. And also a little bit of an asshole.”

  A sliver of awareness sliced through her internal giddiness, reminding her that no matter how well she and Carter were getting along, it was only because they were temporary allies in this fake-engagement plot. She wasn’t going to be stupid about a man again. She wasn’t going to let herself get hurt.

  So she cleared her throat and said, “So if you won’t show me the ring, we at least need to decide on the proposal. I was thinking that since you know I’m going to say yes, you can go all out and do a big public proposal. Something really over the top.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” He checked a corner of the grilled bread and turned down the heat slightly.

  “Oh good. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to do anything too splashy. But I think it might seal the deal with your friends and family. Kind of show what Summer said a few weeks ago about you really letting go.”

  “I said I agree.” He was staring down at the pan. “I get it. I’m an uptight, repressed bore, and no one will believe I’m really in love unless I go to ridiculous, embarrassing lengths to prove it.”

  “Carter.” She gave him a poke. “That’s not it at all. You’re not a bore.”

  “Just uptight and repressed.” This time the corner of his lips was twitching slightly, which was a relief. Proved he wasn’t genuinely hurt.

  “Maybe a little. But most of us are. We can’t all let it all hang out like Lincoln. What kind of disastrous world would that be? Can you imagine the chaos of a world full of Lincolns?”

  He chuckled as he flipped the sandwiches. He was now smiling down at the pan.

  Reminding herself for the hundredth time not to let Carter’s expression go to her head or make her think things that ju
st weren’t true, she asked, “So what should we do for the proposal? Something really fun and splashy. I was thinking—”

  “I’ve got my own ideas.”

  “Okay. I’m sure your ideas are good. They’re probably not quite as good as my ideas...” She waited for Carter’s dubious expression at that comment and wasn’t disappointed. “But I’m sure they’re all right. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  “What? You have to tell me!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m part of this plan. You can’t leave me out of it.”

  “Your part of the plan is to say yes when I propose. I’m handling everything else.”

  “But I want to know!”

  “Tough.”

  Carter had turned on music when they came into the kitchen, and they were listening to a collection of his songs on shuffle. Ruth was always fascinated to learn his taste in music, an eclectic variety ranging from show tunes to country to indie rock. She’d thought she was starting to get a sense of his preferences, so when a new song started to play, it dragged her immediately away from their discussion.

  “You really like cheesy boy band songs from twenty years ago?” she asked breathlessly as the familiar intro filled the room like a warm fragrance.

  “What?” Carter frowned, clearly trying to catch up. After a few seconds, he groaned, “No, I don’t like boy bands. Damn Lincoln. He’s always putting stupid stuff in my mix.”

  He stepped over to his phone to delete the song, but Ruth squealed and grabbed for his arm before he could. “No! Don’t turn it off.”

  “Why not?” Carter stared at her. Her hand was still wrapped around his forearm. They were standing only inches apart.

  “Because I like this song,” she replied sheepishly. “It’s part of the soundtrack to my childhood.”

  Carter relaxed and stepped back to the stovetop, skillfully removing the grilled cheese from the pan, sliced it diagonally, and handed Ruth hers on a plate.

  Ruth took a bite and moaned in pleasure. “This is the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”

  “Yeah?” Carter looked as pleased as a boy as he took a big bite of his.

  “Yeah.” She ate a few bites but was distracted by the music. She really couldn’t help it. She started to sing.

  “Oh my God,” he groaned. “You know all the words, don’t you?”

  “I sure do.” She grinned and put down her plate, keeping the sandwich half she was working on in her hand. She did a little dance as she sang the well-remembered and much-beloved words to the song.

  She was a little self-conscious, but not enough to stop her. There was an innocent joyfulness to the music that she hadn’t experienced in a really long time. Plus she liked how much Carter seemed to enjoy her performance.

  He watched her, his eyes very warm and soft as he leaned against the counter and ate. When he’d finished half his sandwich, about a third of the way through the song, he put down the remainder on his plate and started to sing with her.

  She squealed and clapped her hands. “You know all the words too?”

  “Of course I know the words. I was twelve when this song came out.”

  They sang together, and she pulled him over to dance beside her. She didn’t really expect him to do much dancing. Maybe just shake his hips. But he did a twirl, some air-punches, and a series of choreographed steps that she knew. She knew. “You can do all their moves?”

  Carter was laughing too much to respond, but the answer was obvious as he went through a practiced series of steps, hops, and arm motions as he sang. It was too fun to resist, so she fell into sync with him and tried to do the dance too. She wasn’t nearly as good as he was, but it didn’t matter. They both sang at the top of their lungs.

  Ruth was holding her half-eaten grilled cheese the whole time.

  When the song ended, she was so overwhelmed with pure delight that she launched herself at him in a hug. Carter returned the embrace. Tighter than she’d expected. He squeezed her with his strong arms as she buried her face in his shirt. He smelled so good. Like laundry and butter and the expensive soap he used. He was so much bigger than she was.

  They were pulling apart when Ruth became aware of a presence in the doorway to the kitchen. She turned to see an attractive woman in her fifties, wearing a flowing skirt and top that was both elegant and bohemian.

  Ruth recognized her immediately. Carter’s mother.

  The smile on Mrs. Wilson’s face was tender, emotional. Near tears if Ruth wasn’t mistaken. She’d obviously just witnessed at least part of their silly performance, and it had touched her deeply.

  “Hey, Mom,” Carter said, looking just a little self-conscious as he pushed a hand through his hair and returned to the second half of his sandwich. “I didn’t know you were there.”

  “I know you didn’t. I wouldn’t have gotten to be an audience to that little dance if you knew I was there. And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. It’s been so long since I’ve heard you singing.” The older woman’s eyes moved over to Ruth. She was still smiling. “You must be Ruth, dear. It’s very nice to meet you. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re in my son’s life.”

  “Mom, please,” Carter muttered under his breath. “Don’t overdo it. You’ll scare her away.”

  Ruth honestly couldn’t tell if Carter was acting as part of their plan or if he was being real. It felt real—like he was really embarrassed by his mom’s emotional response and didn’t want Ruth to be freaked out.

  She wasn’t freaked out. By anything but her own feelings.

  This was feeling too real. If she didn’t put this whole thing in perspective soon, she would be in danger of being hurt by her own neediness again.

  And she knew better.

  RUTH LEFT THE WILSONS’ house a couple of hours later. It was late, and she was tired—emotionally as well as physically—but she’d had a really good evening. She was on her way home when a text came in from Kayla, asking if she was coming over to visit anytime soon.

  Ruth didn’t stop by every day, and Kayla didn’t expect her to. The texted question was brief and matter-of-fact. But Kayla wouldn’t have asked something like that unless she really wanted Ruth to come over, so Ruth turned her car away from her own apartment and headed over to her stepfamily’s place.

  There weren’t any of the four normal pickup trucks in the driveway or on the grass. The porch lights weren’t on. Ruth was immediately worried as she parked and hurried up to the front door, unlocked it, and let herself in.

  The house smelled like stale beer and trash. It was sickening. Ruth hated it. The living room was trashed out with cans and pizza boxes and a lot of other stuff that Ruth didn’t want to investigate. The garbage can in the kitchen was overflowing.

  A surge of resentment rose inside her. What the hell was wrong with Brent and his selfish, lazy sons? “Kayla?” she called.

  “I’m here.” The voice came from the closed door of Kayla’s bedroom. “Ruth? You didn’t have to come.”

  Ruth opened the door and found Kayla curled up on her bed, on top of the covers, wearing earbuds and hugging an old floppy stuffed animal. “Where is everyone?”

  Kayla sat up and pulled down her earbuds. “The cable went out. They were all mad that they couldn’t watch the game, so they all just left.”

  “Did you have any dinner?”

  “I had some crackers. Everything’s old in the fridge, and it’s just so gross in there I didn’t want to try to make anything.”

  Ruth had had a really good evening. Fun and warm and comfortable and freeing. And poor Kayla had been over here in a mess, hungry and alone. The guilt burned in Ruth’s eyes and ached in her throat. “Come on, honey. You can spend the night with me. We’ll get something to eat on the way there.”

  “Really?” Kayla was sitting on the edge of her bed, her blue eyes big and hopeful.

  “Yeah. I’ll leave a note for your dad.”

 
Kayla was obviously thrilled by that decision. She stuffed a few things in a bag that she’d need for the night, and they were out of the messy house in less than five minutes. They stopped at a drive-through and got Kayla some chicken tenders and fries. When they got to Ruth’s place, Kayla took a long bath and then went to bed on the couch, which Ruth had made up with sheets, pillows, and blankets.

  It didn’t take long for Kayla to fall asleep afterward.

  Ruth sat in a chair and watched her stepsister for a long time in the dark, trying to decide what to do. It wasn’t like she could report Brent for neglect. Kayla wasn’t abused—either verbally or physically. Brent did provide food for Kayla and ensure she went to school and was generally safe from harm.

  He just didn’t think about her—about how his lifestyle affected her. He had no idea how hard it would be for a sensitive sixteen-year-old girl to live in that pigsty.

  It wasn’t like Kayla would be allowed to move in with Ruth. Ruth didn’t have a room for her in her tiny apartment, and she was barely scraping by as it was. The new clients Carter had rounded up for her had helped a lot, but there wasn’t a wide margin of profit in interior design. Ruth couldn’t afford a house or even a bigger apartment. Not yet. And Brent probably wouldn’t let his daughter go live with someone else anyway.

  Ruth hated it. Not knowing what to do. Not really being able to do much of anything. Of feeling responsible but not capable.

  She was eventually so upset that she had to do something. Her first instinct was to call Carter. To tell him about it and see what he said. Hear his advice. At least get some encouragement, which she knew she’d receive from him. She actually had her phone in her hand and his number pulled up before she changed her mind.

  They didn’t have that kind of relationship. She had no right to bug him with her personal crises.

  Instead, Ruth left Kayla a note in case she woke up and then drove back over to Brent’s house. It was still empty. So Ruth went in and started to clean it so when Kayla came back tomorrow it wouldn’t be such a disgusting mess.