Last-Minute Marriage. Marisa Carroll
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“Look. What I’m doing here is none of your business.”
“Maybe it isn’t, but Ethan Staver or another of Riverbend’s finest will be by any time, and they’ll make it their business.”
Tessa had no illusions at all that the grim-faced chief of police would even think twice about hauling her off to jail on a vagrancy charge. “Don’t threaten me.” She grabbed the door handle to get out of the car. But everything she owned in the world would still be inside with him, so she stayed put.
“I’m just trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing sleeping in your car when you could have a perfectly good hotel room.” He turned to lean against the door, and his face fell into even deeper shadow. Her face, she suspected, was perfectly visible to him.
She didn’t want to tell him she couldn’t afford a room at the hotel, but her bladder was screaming for attention. Suddenly she didn’t care if he knew the truth about her circumstances or not. “I can’t afford it,” she said bluntly. “I have less than two hundred dollars to my name. I’ve been driving all night and sleeping during the day in my car for almost a week now. I’m probably as close to a homeless person as you ever see here in Our Town, Indiana. There, are you satisfied? Now that you know all the details of my sordid little story, will you please get out of my car?”
“No.”
She laid her head on the steering wheel and fought tears of embarrassment and fatigue and discomfort. “Go away. Please. There’s nothing you can do. I have to find a bathroom, and then I’m leaving this place as fast as I can.”
“What?” He sounded bewildered and alarmed, no longer threatening.
“You heard me. I have to go to the bathroom. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice I’m pregnant. A lot pregnant. And pregnant women have to pee all the time.” She didn’t care how inelegant she sounded. She was desperate to be away from him. She sniffed, swallowing another lump of tears and looked around for the box of tissues she always kept on the seat. It was wedged half-under his thigh, the hard muscles covered only with a thin layer of cotton. She wouldn’t have reached for the tissues if her life had depended on it.
“Hell,” he said softly, not touching her with anything but the raspy warmth of his voice. He ran his hand through his hair, dislodging raindrops, which splashed on his broad shoulders. His hair was thick, she’d noticed earlier. Not too long or too short, and the same rich brown as his eyes. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Well, you did,” she said defiantly. “Hand me my tissues, please.”
“What?”
“You’re sitting on my tissues.”
“Oh, sorry.” He looked where she was pointing and handed her the box.
“Thank you.” She took one and blew her nose.
“I’m not usually in the habit of bullying pregnant women.”
“Well, you’re doing a damned good job of it.” She took another tissue and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.
“My parents died in a car accident on a night like this,” he said quietly.
Now it was Tessa’s turn to feel like a jerk. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” That explained a lot about his actions of the past few minutes.
“That’s why I’m not going to let you drive out of town tonight.”
Lord, but the man had a one-track mind. “Thank you for your concern, but—” She never got a chance to finish the sentence.
“I know a place you can stay for nothing.”
“I won’t—” She wasn’t reduced to the level of a women’s shelter yet. And she found it hard to believe there was such a place in a town this size.
“Yes, you will. There’s a dead bolt on the door. And a bathroom.” She could hear the smile return to his voice. “And it’s only a thirty-second drive from here. So you can, um, take care of that other need you have.”
“I can’t go home with you.”
“It’s not my home. It’s my boathouse. Come on. I meant what I said. I’m not letting you leave town tonight. You can come with me or you can spend the night in the Riverbend courthouse jail. It’s not nearly as nice as the boathouse.”
“I’ve never set foot in a jail in my life,” she said indignantly. The state of her bladder wasn’t going to allow her to continue this argument much longer. She opened her mouth to give it one last try, then closed it again.
He let the silence stretch out for a few seconds. “Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll get you the key and in less than five minutes you’ll be…” Mitch hesitated, and she could have sworn she saw his face darken in a blush, but of course, it was too dark to see any such thing. “Cozy as a bug in a rug,” he finished lamely.
Tessa sighed and turned the key in the ignition. The prospect of a clean bed and a chance to shower and wash her hair was irresistible. She would figure out some way to repay him later. But right now it looked as if she was going to spend the night in Riverbend whether she wanted to or not.
“DAD! WAKE UP!”
Mitch’s eyes shot open. Sam was standing a foot from his head. “Not so loud, tiger.” He made a tamping-down motion with his hand.
“Sorry, Dad.” Sam tried hard to keep his voice at a conversational level, the way he’d been taught by his therapists. But it wasn’t always an easy thing to do.
“What’s up?” Mitch signed, stifling a big yawn.
“There’s a car parked in front of the boathouse. A red car. With California license plates.” Sam didn’t bother signing. He had already bounded over to Mitch’s bedroom window to look down at the brown-shingled boathouse below. He looked back over his shoulder to see Mitch’s response to his news.
“I know. I let a lady stay in the boathouse last night.”
Sam’s blue eyes widened. “A lady? I didn’t know you knew any ladies.”
Mitch laughed and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He doubted if Sam’s Sunday-school teacher, or Lily Mazerik, or Ruth and Rachel Steele would appreciate his son’s last remark.
“Who is she?”
Sam had been doing homework when Mitch brought Tessa Masterson to the boathouse the night before. He hadn’t heard her car drive in, of course. Neither had Caleb, who was dozing in his favorite chair in front of the TV with the volume so loud he was as oblivious to outside noises as Sam.
“Her name is Tessa Masterson. What were you doing looking out the window at dawn?”
“I wanted to draw the boathouse.”
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