long are you staying here?” he asked as he hefted her bags from the back. She’d certainly packed more than a couple days’ worth of clothes. But then she had a daughter, and he had no idea how much stuff one needed with little kids. And he never intended to find out. He was still raising one family, and he had no intention of raising another.
A mocking smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t worry, Clayton. I’m not going to be here long enough for your mother to get us to the altar.”
He refused to take her bait. She was much better at teasing than he was, despite his having three younger siblings. Instead, he carried her bags to the door. “The only wedding I’m worried about is the one that’s taking place tomorrow.”
“That may be taking place tomorrow,” she replied.
He dropped the bags on the cement stoop in front of the door and turned back, trapping her between his body and the side of his mother’s minivan. “You’re not going to talk Molly out of getting married.”
Molly might have been emotional, but she’d seemed so sure that she wanted to marry Dr. Josh Towers. She didn’t need anyone making her doubt her decision.
Abby’s lips lifted in that infuriating smile she kept flashing him. He longed to wipe it off her mouth—with his. Breathing deep, he calmed his rising temper. No one, not even Rory, tested his control the way Abby did.
“What kind of friend would that make me?” she asked him.
“Talking her out of getting married?” He knew that she wouldn’t purposely do anything to hurt her friends. “You might think that makes you a good friend.”
She nodded. “I might.”
“But you wouldn’t be a good friend if you’re actually projecting your aversion to marriage onto her,” he observed. “Just because you think marriage isn’t for you, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t for Molly.”
“If you’re so pro-marriage, why isn’t there a ring on your finger?” she asked, reaching for his hand. Her skin brushed against his as she stroked his bare ring finger.
The hair rose on Clayton’s forearms—her touch was like an electrical charge. He pulled his hand away. “I’ve never been in love.”
And he damn well never intended to fall prey to that dangerous emotion.
“What makes you think Molly is?” she persisted.
He wasn’t certain Molly was in love. Yet. But she respected Josh and she’d chosen to spend her life with him. It wasn’t up to Clayton or Abby to change her mind.
“She’s wearing a ring,” he reminded her. “She accepted his proposal.”
“But I don’t think she loves him.”
He swallowed hard, but he couldn’t control his curiosity about her and about Lara’s father any longer. “Have you ever been in love, Abby?”
She shook her head, tumbling blond curls around her bare shoulders.
“But you have a daughter…”
Her laugh trilled out. “Clayton, you’re so old-fashioned.”
Yeah, maybe he was.
“And judgmental,” she accused him again. “I could have become a nun instead of a single mother, and you still wouldn’t approve of me.”
“Is that why you made everyone promise not to tell me about Lara?” he asked, stepping so close their bodies nearly touched. “You were worried about what I’d think of you?”
She lifted her chin and tossed her head with all the spirit of a champion racehorse. “I don’t care what you think of me, Clayton.”
Anger licked through him, heating his blood. She didn’t care what he thought? It shouldn’t bother him, but it did. “Then why didn’t you want anyone to tell me?” he persisted. “Are you ashamed you made a mistake?”
He stumbled back, nearly tripping over her luggage, as her hands slammed into his chest.
“Never call her that!” Her voice trembled with rage. “Never call my daughter a mistake.”
He caught her by the shoulders, holding her gently but firmly so she’d stop pushing him. “I’m sorry, Abby.” She definitely brought out the worst in him. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
He could never see a child, any child, as a mistake. And even before Abby had reacted so strongly, he’d known she didn’t see her daughter that way, either. She loved Lara.
Instead of defending himself, he conceded, “I was out of line.”
“Yes, you were,” she agreed, drawing in a deep breath. Her eyes pooled with unshed tears.
“I better go,” he said, releasing her to open the door to the kitchen of his old house. His hand shook, rattling the handle.
“Clayton?”
He turned back to her.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m leaving Cloverville right after the wedding.”
He nodded, relief easing some of the tension that pressed against his chest. No matter what his mother, the matchmaker, thought, they weren’t good for each other.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, setting her suitcases inside the door. “At the church.”
“Yeah, at the church…”
Unless she talked Molly out of going through with the marriage, which was her intention. She passed through the kitchen doorway, her back nearly grazing his chest. She suppressed another shiver, due no doubt to the cool night air. And not to Clayton’s proximity, nor the memory of the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders had rippled as he’d carried her bags.
“Hey, man,” Rory said from where he leaned against the center island. “What took you so long? They’re having a slumber party.” He rolled his eyes, trying to act macho either to impress his older brother or just because he was a teenage boy.
“Wait for me in the car, then,” Clayton suggested. “I’ll just bring these bags upstairs.”
“That’s not necessary,” Abby protested as she followed him up the back stairs to the second story. Why did he have to act macho, too? Was that a brother thing? “I can carry my own bags. They’ve kicked Rory out. You’re not supposed to be up here, you know.”
“My eyes are closed,” he insisted, in deference to the pajama party. “What room did Mom give you?”
When she said nothing, he opened his eyes again, his gaze meeting hers. “Mine. Of course.” He dumped his bags inside the open door.
“It’s not your room anymore,” she reminded him, but she followed his gaze toward the bed she’d be sleeping in. His bed. A shiver raised bumps on her bare arms. She had to remind herself that she was still mad at him for
