Читать книгу A Christmas Proposition - Jessica Lemmon, Джессика Леммон - Страница 13

Five

“Which building?” Emmett drove through the thick traffic of downtown Harlington.

Yeah, he knew this town. He’d grown up not far from here. Before he’d escaped to go to college. Before happenstance had put him at the same wild frat party as Chase Ferguson. They’d stopped in the center of the room en route to flirt with the same girl. Neither of them had won the girl, but they’d forged a strong friendship.

From there, Emmett’s world had forked. He’d left behind his former life as a rough kid from a lonely home. He’d dropped out of college and never finished, but his old man hadn’t noticed. Van Keaton had been lost in his own prison of grief since the Christmas that’d robbed both him and Emmett of all that was good.

Since then, Emmett had been determined to create good. In addition to working with Chase as his head of security, Emmett had also learned how to invest well. Hell, he’d mimicked his friend’s financial habits, had read every book Chase recommended and had listened to countless podcasts on the topic. It never would’ve occurred to Emmett that he could live the way he lived now if it wasn’t for the Fergusons. They took the idea of “living well” to an advanced level.

Emmett’s work at the mayor’s office might as well be his source of oxygen. He had the Fergusons, who had been a placeholder for the family Emmett rarely saw. His father was a lonely man determined to bask in his own misery, so Emmett let him do it. And he’d never gone home on a holiday. Van didn’t do holidays. Not anymore.

And neither did Emmett.

Stef squealed from the passenger seat, going on about how “beautiful” the red bows and pine boughs tied to paint-chipped lampposts were, but he could only offer a grunt.

Those tattered pine boughs had seen better days and the red ribbons drooped. The shop windows downtown covered in spray snow would require tedious scraping with a razor blade to come clean, and the strings of white lights wrapped around every lamppost served as a reminder of what once was but could never be again.

“Where the hell is this place?” he asked at a stoplight. He didn’t see any building resembling a B and B.

“Oh. Um. I have to stop at city hall first.”

She directed him to the tall brick building between a shoe shop and a store called the Fan Man, which, as far as Emmett could tell, sold ceiling fans and lighting fixtures.

“What for?” He navigated to an open parking spot, but when she took off her seat belt, he caught the strip of nylon in one fist. She sagged back into her seat.

“I know you think the idea of me marrying someone sounds—”

“Insane,” he finished for her, letting her go.

“Think about it, Em. Blake won’t have a leg to stand on. I refuse to let him use a mistake I made in the past against my family.”

Every time he pictured her with that guy, rage spilled into his bloodstream.

“It was the worst mistake of my life.”

“Huge,” he grumbled in agreement.

Guilt outlined her pretty features.

It was the wrong thing for him to say. Blake was predatory and single-minded. And when Chase had found out his sister slept with that pig, his reaction had mirrored Emmett’s. Emmett would’ve happily castrated the bastard to ensure he’d never hurt anyone again.

“There are worse things in life,” he told Stef. “Trust me.”

Christmas shoppers flooded the streets, bustling around to finish their shopping before it was too late, many with small children in tow. One little boy with dark hair and pink cheeks rode in a stroller and pointed with one mitten as snow began to fall, and Emmett’s heart crushed.

That kid was the same age as his brother, Michael, when he’d passed.

“I was awake for hours last night trying to think of a suitable groom, but after a quick scan of my contacts I came up empty-handed. I decided to check again today in case I’d overlooked someone and then I found myself lingering over a name...”

“Completely insane.” He shook his head.

“Do you know why?”

He did look at her now, having neither any idea why nor any clue as to how she thought this was the best way to proceed.

“Because I came across the only name in my address book that belonged to someone who cares enough about my brother to agree to my plan.”

Something tender invaded her expression. He’d never until this moment been regarded by Stefanie Ferguson with “tenderness.”

Hell if he knew what to do with that.

“You.” She said the word with finality.

“Me what?” he asked, the question loud in the cab of the SUV.

“You are the only man who would be discreet, go along with my plan and, provided you don’t already have a girlfriend, fiancée or wife—”

“You think I have a wife?” There was a crazy idea. Even crazier was the idea that Stefanie would be that wife. He reached for his cup of gas station coffee, wincing when the mouthful was cold instead of hot.

“There’s a seventy-two-hour waiting period, so we have to apply for the license today. Then we can be married on Christmas Eve after my...um... After I visit my friends.”

“Forget it.” He put the SUV in Reverse to wiggle from the parking space when her hand—and cold, delicate fingers—brushed his.

Her touch was foreign, as most touches were to him, yet familiar in a way he couldn’t understand. Maybe because he’d known her for so long. Other than her mother, Eleanor Ferguson, Stefanie had been the only constant woman in his life since he was a very small boy.

“I’ve worked out everything. All you have to do is agree and smile for the camera so I can leak a few photos to social media. That’s it. Two little things.”

“Little?” His incredulous laugh cracked the air. “You’re suggesting we get married, Stef. There’s nothing little about that ask.”

“The end game is to screw over Blake and save Chase’s campaign. It’s noble. You’d be doing your civic duty.”

“There’s got to be another way.”

It was nuts. He couldn’t consider this.

So why was he?

“Well. I guess I could pay someone to marry me.”

“Absolutely not.”

Anger filled him to the brim at the idea she’d sell herself to the highest bidder. And what goon from her dating past would be the lucky lotto winner? The idea of Stefanie being taken advantage of again made his blood pressure climb to dangerous levels.

“Listen. It’s a surefire plan. This is the ultimate undo button for me. Haven’t you ever wanted to go back in time and stop a tragedy from happening?”

Her pulled-up blond hair revealed a sweet face silhouetted by the cheesy town holiday decorations and winking lights in every window of city hall. Hell yes, he’d wanted to go back in time. He’d fantasized about going back for a huge “undo” for most of his childhood life.

“Yes,” he answered honestly. She beamed, but that grin was erased when he spoke again. “Then I grew up and learned that what’s done is done. There is no going back. There is no undo button on tragedy.”

She squeezed his fingers as if apologizing for the tragic evening that changed his and his father’s lives forever. She had no idea what had happened to him and his family—no one did. Save Chase, but Emmett had sworn his best friend to secrecy.

“Help me, Emmett. I’m begging.” Against his will, the plea in her eyes took root in his chest. “You know it’s serious if I have to beg. If there were anyone else, I’d ask them. But there’s only you.”

The sentiment was strange to hear in any context, especially in one where he was being proposed to, but it didn’t stop him from reconsidering.

“I’m not going in there,” he said. Stefanie’s shoulders slumped in defeat before he added, “Until you explain every last detail of how this will work.”

Thirty minutes later Stefanie walked out of city hall with her fiancé.

Her big, brawny, silent, scowling fiancé.

“There.” She pointed across the street at a jeweler and marched over as soon as there was a break in traffic. She was a woman on a mission.

A cheery bell jingled as she pushed open the door of the jewelry store. Emmett did a neat jog to catch up and join her, but his expression remained as unreadable as it had when they’d applied for their marriage license.

It was so simple it was sort of unbelievable. It was like they’d let anyone get married these days.

“Hello.” A saleslady scanned her new customers, ring-laden fingers clasped at her front. “What can I help you find today?”

“Wedding bands. And an engagement ring.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Stef peeked over her shoulder at Emmett, who was standing by the door looking unhappy.

She jerked her head, widening her eyes to communicate her meaning: get your ass in here.

He strode in, a reluctant lurch to his walk, as the saleslady led them to a glass case filled with sparkling diamond bands. She pulled out a tray of platinum settings at Stefanie’s request. Stef leaned over them, fingering each one.

“They’re beautiful.”

She reached for a princess cut but before she had it lifted from its velvet bed, Emmett pushed the ring back down and plucked a band featuring a trio of marquise-cut diamonds instead. Rows of smaller diamonds winked from their homes on each side of the band.

“Great choice,” the saleslady praised. “That’s an old set. It was traded in yesterday by a woman whose husband passed away ten years ago. They were married forty-eight years and she had no children to leave it to. She said their marriage was a happy one, but she was remarrying and felt wrong keeping it. She thought bringing it here would allow another couple to give it new life for another four decades or more.” She eyed Emmett and then Stefanie. “You two look young enough to make it to your forty-eighth wedding anniversary.”

It was both a sad and sweet sentiment since Stef knew that her marriage to Emmett wouldn’t last until summer.

“Go ahead and slip it onto her finger,” the saleslady told Emmett with a wink. “Practice for the big day.”

He lifted Stef’s left hand, the ring gripped between his blunt fingers.

“Maybe this ring is the wrong choice for us.” She started to tug her hand away, but her betrothed didn’t heed her warning, instead slipping the ring past her third finger’s knuckles, where it sat as snugly as if it’d been sized for her hand.

“It’s perfect.” His gruff voice held a note of surprise.

“It’s beautiful.” The saleslady took Stefanie’s hand and turned the diamond this way and that. “I tightened those prongs myself.”

It was beautiful. And Emmett was right. It was also perfect. The woman handed over the matching band, and he pulled it onto his finger—again, a perfect fit.

“It was meant to be.” The saleslady let out a gasp of delight. “We have financing and we also accept credit cards.”

“Cash.” Emmett wiggled the ring from his finger and placed it onto the counter as Stef was reaching into her purse for her wallet.

“Splendid. Let me grab a few boxes.” The saleslady dashed off to the back, rings in hand and a spring in her step thanks to the hefty price tag.

“I’ll pay for it,” Stef said.

“No. You won’t.”

“Em—”

“Let me.” He grasped her hand where the engagement ring sat, his palm big and warm. An answering warmth curled around her heart and sent a flush up her neck.

Speechless, she let Emmett take care of the purchase.