Читать книгу The Wedding Plan - Abby Gaines - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

MERRY PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR to Pete’s Burger Shack. She couldn’t have been thinking clearly, to have suggested this place to Patrick when he’d texted to confirm their date. Of course I wasn’t thinking clearly. The only thought in her head had been how she might ease her dad’s fears.

Pete’s might be a New London institution, but it wasn’t the setting for important occasions. It had been the venue for Merry’s second annual Date With Lucas.

At first glance, she couldn’t see Patrick in the happy-hour crowd. She was about to text to ask if he was here when her cell phone buzzed. A message from Lucas: WHERE ARE U?

She texted back: PETE’S

He probably wanted contact information for the people he should notify about her dad. But since she hadn’t been allowed back into his room, she didn’t have it. Ah, there was Patrick, waving to her from the back corner booth.

She pushed her way through the happy drinkers. Patrick already had a glass of red wine and a bowl of peanuts in front of him; he stood as she arrived.

“Hi, sweetheart.” One hand settled on her hip as he leaned to kiss her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” She slid into the seat opposite.

Patrick had the kind of looks any woman would like. His brown hair was slightly long and flopped over his forehead. He was slim but well-proportioned with a ready smile. His two passions—animals and peace—seemed to Merry the ultimate in caring. She felt a rush of affection for him.

Most parents would be thrilled to have their daughter bring him home…so long as those parents weren’t navy personnel and committed militarists.

Merline, Pete’s wife and longtime waitress, came over. “Merry, honey, I’m gonna need to see some ID.” She still made Merry do this every single time. Merry’s second date with Lucas had been her first visit to Pete’s; she must have been eighteen going on nineteen, with him twenty-one. She’d produced a fake ID to buy a drink, and he’d told Merline that Merry was underage. For her own safety, he’d announced sanctimoniously.

Now, she handed over her driver’s license for Merline to hold up to the light, align the photo next to Merry’s face and generally make a production out of inspecting it. At last, she consented to take her order for a glass of chardonnay. She was chuckling as she walked away.

“What was that about?” Patrick asked.

“Old joke, long story.” Merry leaned her head back against the booth and gathered her energy.

“How’s Boo?” Patrick asked. He was convinced Boo’s constipation was the result of emotional trauma and would ease as soon as the dog accepted Merry as his new owner.

“No change,” she said.

Patrick filled the time until her drink arrived with an entertaining account of the conference he’d attended in Denver.

Merline reappeared with the chardonnay and a much larger bowl of nuts, which she set in front of Merry. Her apology for the driver’s license trick.

“Thanks, Merline,” Merry slid the bowl sideways to cover up a beer ring on the table. Every table at Pete’s had multiple such rings, and had for as long as she could remember. Shouldn’t Lucas have taken her someplace fancier on that second date?

As soon as Merline left, Merry leaned forward. “Patrick, something awful happened today. My dad’s in the hospital—he’s really sick.” She managed to tell him the situation without actually using the word dying, but her voice shook all the same.

“Sweetheart, that’s terrible.” He grasped her hands across the table, his eyes filled with tender concern. “You should have called me. I would have come to the hospital with you.”

She didn’t say, I never thought of it. “I know it’s hard for you to leave your patients. Besides, Lucas was there. Lucas Calder. He’s this guy, the son of—”

“—your dad’s best friend. The hero chopper pilot you always talk about,” Patrick said.

Merry blinked. “I don’t always talk about him. I never even mention him.”

“He’s the guy who got shot down last year,” Patrick said.

Okay, she might have mentioned that. Getting shot down was a big deal.

“The guy you played with as a kid, the ‘bossy jerk with an overactive rescuer gene,’” Patrick continued, clearly quoting her. The words did sound kind of familiar.

Weirdly, she had the impulse to defend Lucas. To say he wasn’t entirely a jerk. Even though he’d behaved like a massive one that night in Baltimore. Not thinking about that.

“The thing is,” she said tightly, “I do need your help now.”

Patrick shut up about Lucas, all concerned about her. “Anything,” he said. “Let me be here for you, Merry. I want to help.” His charming, boyish smile came out. “I love you.”

Phew, this is going to be okay. “Thank you,” she said.

When he blinked, she realized he’d been waiting for a reciprocal declaration. Time for that later.

“Dad’s worried about me being alone after he— In the future,” she said. “He asked me to get married.”

Patrick froze, wineglass halfway to his mouth. “I thought your dad didn’t like me. Now he wants me for a son-in-law?”

Merry noticed he wasn’t cheering at the prospect of matrimony. “Actually,” she admitted, “he asked me to marry Lucas.”

“Why would your father want you to marry a guy you’ve always said is a creep?” Patrick swigged his merlot. “Hasn’t he heard you go on about how Lucas doesn’t know the first thing about relationships?”

She wanted to dispute always and go on, and she was pretty sure she’d never said creep…but now wasn’t the time to split hairs. She managed a shrug. “It’s a family friend thing, that’s all.”

“You always say Lucas doesn’t like New London,” Patrick accused. “How come he’s even here?”

Could he stop with the always? “He came back to see his family.” Merry squeezed Patrick’s fingers. “Of course I’m not going to marry Lucas.” Now would be a good time to say “I love you.” “I’m not going to marry anyone at all, not right now. But if you truly want to help me…would you mind pretending to be engaged?”

Patrick’s fingers jerked; she tightened her grasp.

“Not for long,” she said quickly. “Just until Dad… Just for a few days.”

Patrick took another drink of his wine and swallowed hard before setting down his glass. “How would that help, when it’s Lucas he wants for you?”

“He might have a preference for Lucas, but his main concern is seeing me happy,” she assured him. “If we tell Dad we’re getting married, and I convince him I’m blissfully happy, I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

She just couldn’t ask Lucas, not after Baltimore. If she asked him, and he turned her down again…or worse, if he thought she still wanted him… Ugh. She could make this work with Patrick, even if he wasn’t Dad’s number one choice. Her father was the ultimate romantic, if she convinced him she adored Patrick, he would be satisfied. Maybe she could persuade Patrick to say something nice about the navy.

“But we’d be lying,” Patrick said. “Getting engaged isn’t a game, Merry. You can’t devalue marriage like that.”

“You said you love me,” she snapped. She drew a calming breath. “Sorry, I’m under a bit of stress here. We won’t make a public announcement,” she promised. She might have to tell Dad they’d put a notice in the Day, but that would be a minor lie compared with the “we’re engaged” one. “It’ll be just between us and Dad, for a few days, maybe a week. Or so.”

That was another advantage Patrick had over Lucas. Lucas’s family would have to be lied to; Patrick’s parents in Colorado would know nothing about it.

Patrick was looking at her as if she was some kind of monster. She was starting to feel like a monster.

“Patrick, I know it’s not honest—” she reminded herself she liked his idealism “—but it’s for a good cause. The…the best cause.” Her voice cracked. She pushed the peanuts toward him as if they might serve as an incentive to get engaged to her.

Reflexively, he grabbed a handful of nuts and tipped them into his mouth. Which gave her more time to talk, to persuade him.

“It’s not as if you and I don’t care for each other a lot,” she said. “Maybe we could look at this as a trial run for a real engagement.” When he didn’t argue, she figured she was making progress. “Do you remember, on our very first date, you said you knew for sure I was going to be important in your life? And I said I felt the same? Maybe this is—” She stopped.

Patrick’s color had deepened. His hand was pressed to his throat; his eyes bulged.

“Uh, Patrick…are you choking?”

Stupid question. Of course he was.

Merry jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair. “Help!” she called. “He’s choking.” She dashed around the table. Heimlich maneuver. She’d seen it performed in countless movies.

For a moment it seemed no one had heard her over the happy hour hubbub. Then Merline rushed up. “What can I do?” Now other people turned to look, started to move, but in what seemed like slow motion.

“Just help me shift him....” Merry had her arms around Patrick from behind, but the high seat back made it impossible to get a grip. Dammit, this didn’t happen in the movies. “If we get him off the chair…”

Next moment, the chair was gone, Merry had been shoved aside and Lucas—where did he come from?—had his arms around Patrick, hands positioned beneath his rib cage. Two sharp heaves, and a nut flew from Patrick’s mouth, landing in his wine.

Patrick sucked in great gasps of air, his color quickly returning to normal.

“Are you okay?” Merry asked, as the other drinkers applauded.

He nodded, rubbing his throat. “Yeah.” It came out as a croak. He glanced around. “I thought it was all over. Who…?”

Lucas stepped forward, hand outstretched, as relaxed as if he regularly performed the Heimlich maneuver ten times before breakfast. “You must be Patrick. I’m Lucas Calder.”

Patrick’s handshake looked disappointingly limp, but, heck, the guy had almost died. Lucas saved his life.

“What are you doing here?” Merry asked Lucas.

“You said you were here. I was worried you might be drowning your sorrows alone.” His gaze flicked over Patrick. “I should have known better.”

Patrick was looking him up and down, suspicion blooming on his face. Maybe Lucas didn’t seem quite like the creep Merry had apparently called him. In fact, even in worn jeans and a plain, long-sleeved dark T-shirt, he looked…gorgeous.

If you liked that kind of thing.

Merry realized Patrick was pocketing the wallet and keys he’d left on the table. “Patrick, wait, we haven’t finished our conversation.” I need a fake fiancé.

“I think we have,” he said, his voice still croaky. “If it takes desperation for you to suggest we take our relationship to the next level, Merry, I don’t think we have much going for us. I’ve suspected for a while that only one of us was actually committed to this relationship.”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“Hey, buddy,” Lucas said. “What kind of guy dumps a woman when her dad’s in the hospital?”

Patrick flushed. “You’d better ask Merry that question.”

“Don’t go,” Merry pleaded. “We can work this out.”

“You…” Patrick stopped, mouth open, an arrested expression on his face.

“One thing you ought to know, Merry,” Lucas said.

Patrick leaned forward and barfed. All over her.

“The Heimlich maneuver can cause vomiting,” Lucas said helpfully.

* * *

AS THE BUSSER CLEANED UP the floor, Lucas stood aside, then ordered a fresh glass of wine for Merry, plus a beer for himself. Just as the drinks arrived, along with a fresh bowl of nuts, Merry emerged from the bathroom wearing a red-white-and-blue Pete’s Burger Shack polo. Merline’s, going by its generous sizing. The rolled-up black pants weren’t her own, either. Lucas guessed her clothes were in the plastic grocery bag she set under the table.

“I ordered you a chardonnay,” he said. “Thought I’d save you the hassle of having to show Merline your ID again.”

“A ritual for which I have you to thank.” Merry sat down with a little whoosh of breath. She dug into the bowl of peanuts on the table and crammed a handful into her mouth.

“Careful,” Lucas murmured.

“I’m sure you’ll save my life if I choke,” she said around the nuts. She waited until she’d swallowed before continuing. “Besides, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“I stopped by the hospital again this afternoon,” Lucas told her, “but they still wouldn’t let me see your dad.”

“Thanks for trying,” Merry said. “And thanks again for what you did at the boatyard. You’re not bad in a crisis.”

“You should see me in a war.” He took a swig from his longneck. “So, how’s he doing?”

“Nothing’s changed from what the doctor said when you were there.” She wrapped her fingers tightly around the stem of her wineglass. “He’s dying.”

From the sudden widening of her eyes, Lucas guessed she hadn’t truly admitted it to herself before. Saying the word—dying—left her opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish.

“Take a drink,” Lucas said.

She glugged too big a mouthful and coughed.

“I’m sorry, Merry,” Lucas said. “Maybe he’ll get a donor kidney.”

“Maybe.” Blinking hard, she took a more moderate sip of her wine.

A waitress, one-third Merline’s age and three times prettier, struck a pose next to their table—hip cocked, shoulders thrown back to accentuate her breasts in her low-cut T-shirt. “You guys, like, need anything else?” She batted her eyelashes at Lucas.

“Gosh, yes, thanks so much,” Merry gushed. “Some privacy would be wonderful.”

The girl scowled, dropped the pose and walked off.

Lucas laughed.

“Okay, that was rude of me,” Merry admitted. “But I’m not in the mood.” She propped her chin on one hand, the picture of moroseness. Was that only about her dad? Or…

“I wouldn’t worry about losing Patrick Peacenik if I were you,” Lucas advised.

She glowered. “Thanks for the tip.”

“If the guy’s not willing to stand by you in a crisis…” He didn’t mean to sound quite so contemptuous. But, hey. There were some things a man should do without question. Lucas’s instincts had proved right—from first sight, he’d been irritated by Patrick with his floppy, pretty-boy hair and his bug eyes. Admittedly, the bug eyes were caused by nearly choking to death.

“I might have made it hard for him to be supportive,” Merry confessed. “I asked him for a pretty big favor.”

“You wanted him to run over a potential kidney donor?”

She smiled reluctantly. “That might have been easier. Dad’s got it into his head that he wants to see me safely married before he…you know.”

“You asked Patrick to marry you?” Lucas said, appalled.

“Hey, he supposedly loved me,” she retorted. “Besides, he didn’t have to actually marry me. Just pretend to be engaged for a few days.”

“Is that all?” Lucas set down his beer. “And he said no?”

“He said marriage is too special to devalue in that way,” she muttered.

Lucas snickered. “Poor Merry. No way could you disagree with that.” He knew exactly how she felt about love and marriage.

“Ordinarily, no.” She sipped her wine. “Actually, Dad wanted me to marry you.”

Lucas snorted. “Those must be some drugs they’re giving him.”

“He’s drugged, but lucid. He’s just very worried about me being left alone.”

“Poor guy.” Lucas tried to imagine John saying such a thing. It was an indication of how keenly the man must be feeling his mortality. Even trapped in a sand hole in the desert, Lucas had never doubted his ability to survive. Never found himself coming up with crazy ideas for the people he’d leave behind.

But John was right to be worried. His closeness to Merry and the lack of any other family meant his death would be extra hard on her.

Looking at her, biting her lower lip, just slightly to the left side, the way she always did when she was anxious. That lower lip of hers was remarkably full.... He shifted his focus to his beer, brought the bottle to his mouth.

“What am I going to do?” Merry said. “I can’t bear to see Dad so distressed.”

She appeared so bleak, so hopeless, Lucas felt a tug of response in that deep part of him that compelled him to action in a crisis. Lucas Calder to the rescue.

“Any reason I can’t be your fake fiancé?” he asked. “It’s just for a few days, right? And I’m your dad’s preferred candidate.”

She swallowed some more wine. “I appreciate the offer, but…”

“Are you saying no because of Baltimore?” he demanded. The memory of that night gave him a mental pause, too, but they were both adults.

“Of course not. Doing it with you—” her cheeks colored at the poor choice of words “—is too complicated. Patrick’s family live in Colorado and would never need to know. Your parents are right here.”

Okay, that was a problem.

Lucas thought about it. His father had an almost fanatical regard for the truth. “Dad would never lie to John, or let someone else get away with lying to him.”

“Exactly.”

“So we wouldn’t tell them it was fake until later.” Lucas warmed to the idea. “Merry, if it wasn’t for your dad saving my father’s life, I wouldn’t exist. If I can help give John some peace in his last days, for the price of an engagement that’ll mean nothing to either you or me, and will soon be forgotten… It’s a no-brainer.”

There weren’t enough good reasons not to do it.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “When you put it like that…Lucas, thank you. I can’t tell you how much it would mean to me to be able to reassure Dad.”

“All in the line of duty.” His mind raced ahead, scoping out the mission, the critical path. He was surprised to feel a faint buzz of adrenaline. Yeah, he wanted to do this—support her, make her dad happy.

“We’ll be doing pretty much what we’d be doing over the next few days anyway,” he said. “I’d want to help you and your dad out while he’s sick. Now I’ll be doing it as your fiancé.” Lucas drummed his fingers on the table. “Maybe calling you honeybun every now and then.” He added casually, “I’d probably have to kiss you once or twice, too.”

His gaze had got hung up on her mouth again. He wrenched it away.

“No honeybun,” she said firmly. “No kissing. No…no hanky-panky at all.”

Her edict naturally made him immediately want hanky-panky—dumb, old-fashioned word—and lots of it. But…

“You’re right,” he said, and meant it. “We should avoid complications. This needs to be easy to unravel afterward. The best missions are the simplest.”

She rolled her eyes at the military analogy.

He sensed the situation wasn’t without risk, though he hadn’t had time to quantify it. But whatever it was, Lucas was an expert at risk management. “We’ll make it work,” he said confidently. “No problem.”