Unless…
Abby had referred to the ceremony as a shotgun wedding. Could Molly be pregnant? Did she have to get married? He wouldn’t have thought so. The groom had been so traditional that he’d even asked Clayton for Molly’s hand in marriage. But nowadays that really didn’t mean anything. He allowed himself a selfish moment of satisfaction. Maybe Mom would soon have more than enough grandchildren to keep her happy and off his back.
“How come no one told me about Lara?” he asked her. The question had been burning in his mind since the airport.
His mother smiled her softening-the-blow smile. He’d seen it often over the years. “You tend to be judgmental, honey.”
First Abby. Now his own mother. Stung, he clenched his jaw. “I am not judgmental of people.”
“Oh, not people,” she agreed. “Just Abby. That’s why she made us promise not to tell you.”
So Abby had wanted to keep her daughter secret from him. Why? He’d never considered the fact that she might care about what he thought of her.
“Speaking of Abby,” his mother continued, “you need to drop her back at the house. Instead of a bachelorette party, the girls are having one of their infamous sleepovers at our house. Then we’ll all leave together for the church in the morning.”
He winced at the memory of those adolescent sleepovers. They hadn’t bothered him much when they were all younger, except for the incessant giggling that had kept him awake half the night. But he’d really hated it when they’d had them years later, on his weekends home from college. Abby had run around the house in skimpy boy shorts and a tank top. His wince turned into a groan that he smothered with a cough.
“I’ll switch her bags to your car,” he offered.
She shook her head. “Nonsense. That’s too much trouble.”
For whom?
“And Rory needs to spend the night at your place.”
“The best man was supposed to use my spare bedroom.” Despite all the recent construction, Cloverville still had no hotels or motels.
“He’s coming straight to the church in the morning, and so the groom doesn’t see the bride before the wedding, Josh and the boys are staying here at the Kellys’. You have room for Rory tonight.”
Room, maybe, but he wasn’t so sure he had the patience, especially not after seeing Abby again. He’d have to stay awake all night to guard his liquor cabinet. Clayton focused his gaze on Mr. Kelly’s cooler, beside which his curly-haired teenage brother stood—probably about ready to snitch a beer. Clayton had caught him with a bottle a few weeks ago, in the park, well after his curfew. The boy was trying to grow up too fast and too recklessly. Fortunately, the old man who’d seen Rory and his friends while walking his dog had called Clayton instead of the sheriff or their mother. That time, too, he’d had to leave his date in order to rescue Rory from himself.
It wouldn’t matter if both Molly and Colleen got married. He’d still have too much on his hands with Rory to consider getting seriously involved with anyone. But he wouldn’t change his mind about a relationship even if Rory suddenly became a choirboy.
Abby sauntered up next to Rory, whose face flushed red. Clayton’s gaze followed his brother’s to her derriere, straining the worn seams of her jeans as she leaned over the cooler, drew out a can and handed it to the boy. A cola.
Amusement teased his lips into a grin. His mother patted his cheek. “It’s great to see you smile, Clayton. You’re always so serious. Too serious. You need something…” Her gaze followed his to the giggling blonde teasing his brother. “Or someone to lighten you up.”
It didn’t matter how many grandchildren Molly gave her, he wasn’t likely to get his mother off his back. Ever. Because he wasn’t going to get married and start a family with anyone. And most especially not with Abby Hamilton.
Chapter Three
“So are you my chauffeur for as long as I’m here?” Abby asked as Clayton pulled into his mother’s driveway behind Mrs. McClintock’s minivan. She’d beat them home, with Lara in the back in the built-in car seat. Abby had wanted to ride with them, but Mrs. McClintock had insisted there wasn’t room with Colleen, Molly and Rory, who’d had to come home to pack his bag for Clayton’s.
He lived in town in the apartment above the insurance agency. Abby couldn’t imagine willingly leaving this home. Her heart lifted at the sight of the Dutch colonial where she’d spent so much time in her younger days. Although she suspected Rory had long outgrown it, the tire still swung from the giant oak in the front yard. The house wasn’t as colorful or as big as the Kellys’ Victorian, but Abby preferred its white siding and black roof. To her, it represented all the stability she’d never had in her own family. This house was why she’d packed up her apartment in Chicago. She wanted to raise her daughter in a house just like this.
Too bad it was in Cloverville.
“Mrs. Hild’s roses and Mr. Carpenter’s storefront thank you for not driving.” He turned toward her, his eyes gleaming in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, as he added, “Not to mention the colonel.”
“Not to mention, and yet you did. You just can’t let it go. We’re both adults now. Why can’t you put the past behind us?” she asked.
Why was he so determined to think the worst of her?
“I’m just teasing you,” he claimed.
“I’m not one of your sisters, Clayton.”
His gaze clung to hers as he leaned over the console, his face so close that his breath brushed her face when he whispered, “I know.”
Abby shivered, her attention drawn to his lips. But then he pulled back and opened his door. Her breath shuddered out, and when she reached for her door latch, her hand shook. Had he been about to kiss her? Clayton McClintock kiss her? She hated to admit it, even to herself, but growing up she had daydreamed about his kisses, how they’d make her feel…
Wanted. She shook her head, pushing aside the old longing, which she knew would never be fulfilled. Clayton’s kisses or anyone wanting her for keeps.
“I’m sorry you had to drive out of your way for me,” she said, surprised he’d come around to her side of the vehicle, as if he’d been about to open her door.
Clayton McClintock opening her door? Clayton McClintock teasing her? Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who’d changed.
“I have to pick up Rory, anyway,” he said as he headed around the SUV to unlatch the back door.
“But he could have ridden home with you, instead of your coming out here.” Her face flushed as she realized who had maneuvered the passenger lists. “Your mother…”
“She’s not exactly being subtle,” he said, with a short, bitter laugh. “She thinks you’d be good for me. That you’d lighten me up.”
Abby snorted. Mrs. Mick playing matchmaker for her and Clayton?
“Exactly,” he agreed
