Shock - Marie Johnston Page 0,12
good in the press?
Lia said her grandma used to joke that she would never plant flowers. That way, Elaine Wescott would never bring the media circus to her doorstep. Is that what Lia’s doing?
Before I can knock, the door swings open. Lia’s in another dress, one the color of sunshine hidden behind thin clouds, subdued enough that she probably thinks she won’t steal attention from the bride. It’ll be hard for me to take my eyes off her. The chaste neckline manages to show off her shoulders but cover her cleavage. A shame. The gauzy material swirls just above her knees but doesn’t hide how long and defined her legs are.
“Nice,” slips out before I can smother the tone full of male appreciation.
Pink infuses her cheeks but her gaze streaks across my chest. “Thanks. You look, uh, good, too.”
“It’s not the white polo.”
She lifts her gaze, almost shy. “No, it’s not, but you look good in that, too.”
I stuff a hand in my pocket. I pride myself on being a regimented guy, but my self-discipline is flagging when it comes to keeping my greedy eyes off of the material draping over her breasts and hugging her hips. “Ready?”
“If I say no, does that change anything?”
“It’ll be fun. It’s only stepsiblings I’ve never been close to and their mom who detests my mom.”
“What could go wrong?” She tilts her head to the left, the movement so tiny only I would notice. “Is Mrs. Rosenthal spying on us?”
“Do Arnesh’s hands still shake during an IV start?”
Her lips quirk and my gaze hooks on them. She’s wearing lip gloss. Is it the high-end stuff that tastes like sanitizer? Or the berry-flavored cheap stuff that would make her lips even more lickable than they already are? “She was telling me yesterday that she has a grandson that’s never had a serious girlfriend and we’d get along great.”
I shoot Mrs. Rosenthal’s house a hard look. Her grandson had better live across the country and be afraid of flying. He doesn’t need to come anywhere near Sunnyville. Lia starts down the walk and I jog a few steps to keep up. “And you told her you’re taken?”
“She’s been trying to set me up with him since I was fifteen.” She pauses and turns back. “But how far are we taking this?”
“It has to be believable.”
“Believable enough that I have to lie to everyone around me?”
We’re both stopped halfway between her front door and the street where I’m parked. “That’s kind of how it goes. We don’t know who she’s talking to.” Lia probably does, but my lame excuse is out there.
“She gets her groceries delivered and I think the mice living in her eighties Cadillac will learn to drive it before she ever fires up the engine again.”
“Maybe that grandson of hers should fix it for her,” I joke, but crankiness has set in since hearing she’s known this mysterious single guy for ten years.
She gives me a funny look and keeps walking.
I let out a quiet breath. I might’ve overreacted, but I have more to lose than she does. “Look, if Cass catches wind that we’re pretending, she’ll never leave Jayden with me again.” I don’t make enough to fight a long legal battle and her parents will throw everything they have behind it.
“I get it, Ford.” She stops at the passenger door and I automatically open it for her. She lifts a dark brow, her gaze jumping between the door and me.
“I have manners, Wescott.”
“I never said you didn’t. But don’t start opening the ambulance door for me.” Getting in, she arranges her dress. “All right. According to everyone from here on out, I’m taken.”
“Thank you.” I mean it. She’s no longer just a sounding board about Cass’s unfairness. Now she’s my lifeline, a way to show the world that I’m stable father material.
I close the door and jog around to the other side. The drive to the wedding venue is quiet. As I pull into the lot, I spot Mom’s car. She’s sitting inside as if she can’t bring herself to go in alone. I’m glad I agreed to come. Even more grateful to Lia. Between the both of us, this might be a nice day for Mom.
I park as close as I can and lead Lia to Mom. When I knock on the window, Mom jumps, her guilty gaze flicking to the window. She opens the door and clambers out.
“Oh,” she says, adjusting her own floral dress and smoothing it down. “I