Crazy Love (11 page)

“A pre-nup? Have you lost your mind?”

He’d never seen his mom so angry, hands on hips, shoulders rigid, eyes blazing.

“It’s no big deal. Most couples have one these days.”

If his hunch were correct the moment she mentioned the idea of it to Hank, the farmer would leave his mom alone and move onto easier prey.

“I don’t give a hoot what other couples are doing. I’m doing what
I
want to do and that’s marrying the best thing that ever happened to me. And if you don’t like it, too bad.”

Marc heard the slight quiver in her voice and felt like the biggest bastard in the world. His mom didn’t deserve this. She’d been through enough but what was worse? Hurting her now or waiting until Hank did later?

Before he could reply the back door opened and a tall, distinguished man with a thatch of peppery hair and piercing blue eyes entered. In the second it took Marc to sum up his physical appearance the man made a beeline for his mother while casting a cursory nod in his direction

“You all right, Liv? I heard you all the way down in the barn.”

“I’m fine. Just having a discussion with Marc.”

He watched as his mother turned her cheek to rest it against the man, who could only be her fiancé, as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

In all the years living under his parents’ roof he’d never seen a physical display of affection much less his mom snuggling in the arms of a man and enraptured while doing so.

“So this is young Marc?”

Hank dropped a kiss on his mother’s head and stepped toward him, hand outstretched. “Hank Stevens. Pleased to meet you.”

He wished he could say the same but he’d never been any good at lying.

“Marc Fairley.”

He shook hands with his nemesis, surprised by the strength in the older man’s grip. He’d half-expected a weak man who wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. Instead, he felt compelled to look away first by the direct, assessing gaze leveled at him.

“I take it you’re none too keen on our plans?”

Another surprise; Hank met him head-on, not skirting the issue in the least.

“I’m concerned for my mom and the speed at which this has happened.”

Hank nodded and gestured to the table. “Why don’t you take a seat and we discuss this? Get to know each other.”

He had no interest in getting to know Hank Stevens, even though he was a surprise packet. However, the flare of hope in his mom’s eyes undid him. He’d given her enough grief for one day, what harm could it do to have a chat with the guy?

“Okay, but why don’t you give me a tour of the farm while we talk?”

That way, he could drill Hank for information without hurting his mom. And ram home his viewpoint about their quickie wedding lunacy.

“Sounds good. Liv, you’ll be alright on your own for a while?”

Marc felt compelled to look away for the second time in as many minutes as his mom and Hank exchanged a look that had more to do with adoration than tenderness. These two were in their sixties yet acted like a couple of teenagers in the throes of their first great love affair. Gross.

His mom shooed them away. “I’ll be fine. Where’s Sierra got to?”

Hank chuckled. “Tinkering with Tommy, where else? She’ll come in when she’s done. Now lad, shall we take that walk?”

Who the hell was Tommy? And why did the thought of Sierra doing any tinkering annoy him? She meant nothing to him. All they’d shared was a meal and a kiss and he’d be out of here in the next hour if he had his way.

Then why couldn’t he get her image out of his mind? The way she’d stared at him earlier, bold, challenging, her long legs clad in poured-on denim, her top half encased in a clingy white T that resurrected barely suppressed memories of this morning and the word Angel emblazoned on her impressive chest.

Though her breasts wouldn’t win any size contests the way she filled out that cotton had him itching to peel it off her. He’d never been a fan of the LA babe silicone look, sticking to the motto more than a handful was a waste.

“Ready?”

What the hell was wrong with him? Here he was with his mom and the man he wanted to pry away from her, fantasizing about a woman’s breasts?

He nodded. “After you.”

“Marc, don’t forget what we discussed,” his mom called out as he reached the door, the underlying steel in her voice surprising him. She’d never stood up for what she believed in before and the thought she’d finally acquired a backbone cheered him, despite the fact it made his job of convincing her this was madness more difficult.

“See you later, Mom.”

He’d barely closed the door before Hank wheeled on him.

“Before we start, let’s get one thing straight. I love your mother and as you’re her only child I’d like us to be friends. I’m not expecting us to become best buddies but I’ll respect you and I ask you do the same for me. Got it?”

Marc half-expected a finger jabbed at his chest to ram the point home.

Marc nodded. “You’re a straight-talker. I like that.”

“We’re off to a good start then. Let’s take that stroll and talk.” Hank smiled, the genuine warmth in his eyes earning some of that grudging respect he’d demanded.

Marc hadn’t climbed the corporate ladder without trusting his gut. The best in the business at reading people, Rob said. In this case his instincts screamed Hank Stevens was a decent man.

So what the hell was he going to do now?

Sierra spied Marc and Hank strolling around the farmhouse and wished she could be a fly on a nearby wall. For all his bluster last night, City Boy seemed to be taking time to get to know Uncle Hank. Or was it all part of his grand scheme to undermine the happy couple? Either way, she’d soon find out.

Uncle Hank wouldn’t let her down. Once he’d finished his tête-à-tête with his future stepson he’d guide him towards the barn like she’d asked so she could do a little interrogating of her own.

“And here comes the lamb to the slaughter now,” she murmured, quickly abandoning her look-out post at the door and trying to appear busy under Tommy’s bonnet.

“Sierra, I’ve brought you a visitor.”

She lifted her head, mustering a look of studied surprise.

“Hey there, Slick. Watch those fancy loafers don’t get too dirty out here.”

“What are you doing?”

He ignored her jibe and stared at her filthy hands, which she’d done for affect.

She pulled a rag from her back pocket and wiped her hands before patting the tractor’s bonnet. “Tommy needed a bit of a tune up.”

Surprise widened his eyes. “That’s quite an impressive résumé you’ve got. Matchmaker, meddler, mechanic.”

“Meddler? People in glass houses, Slick.”

His scorching glare was hot enough to set the hay bales scattered around the periphery of the barn alight.

Hank cleared his throat and chuckled softly. “I’ll leave you young ones to it. Head on back to the house when you’re done.”

“Sure thing,
Uncle
Hank.”

The stress on uncle would get under City Boy’s skin and by the faint blush staining his cheekbones she’d scored a direct hit.

Hank Stevens wasn’t related by blood but he’d been a savior from the moment she’d arrived in this town, taking time to show a terrified ten year old how to fish, climb trees and build a cubby house when the one man she wanted in her life more than anything—her real dad—was nowhere to be found.

They’d gravitated toward each other, the gentle farmer who’d lost his wife to cancer before they could have any kids and the tomboy ruffian, striking up a friendship that had lasted.

If Marc thought he could mess with Hank’s relationship, he was in for a surprise. Cupid would turn mobile robot before she let him spoil Hank’s first chance at happiness in two decades.

He waited until Hank walked out of earshot before responding.

“Aren’t you full of surprises?”

She picked up a piece of straw and chewed it thoughtfully. “Love’s full of surprises. A seasoned man of the world should know that.”

“I’m serious.” He stalked toward her. “Is this a set up? You and
Uncle
Hank out to score a rich relative?”

Uh-oh. Her vision clouded with red mist until she could hardly see straight. Any minute smoke would pour from her ears, just like Belle said it used to back in junior high when anyone picked on her, which was often thanks to her carrot top.

“You’re a jerk.”

He held his hands out to her and wiggled his fingers as if beckoning her.

“Surely you can do better than that?”

“Wouldn’t waste my breath calling you names.”

“Guess you’d rather waste it spinning me a load of bullshit about love and marriage and soul mates.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your mom and Hank are happy. Wake up and smell the love blossoms.”

He shook his head. “Not buying it. Too soon, too trite and after seeing them, too damn good to be true.”

“How can you judge after spending less than an hour with them?”

“I’ve seen all I need to see. Mom’s over the moon, he seems like a nice guy, but first appearances can be deceiving. Trust me, I know.”

That was interesting. Was he talking about his parents’ ugly marriage or something a little closer to home?

As much as she’d like to dig deeper into his murky past she had more important things to focus on, like making this wedding happen to repay Hank for his years of love.

The wedding
… a glimmer of an idea insinuated its way into her mind and once there grew until it took all her willpower not to grin with the ingenuity of it.

“Don’t trust first appearances, huh?”

“No frigging way.”

“Fine. Then why don’t you stick around?”

He clicked his fingers. “I knew you were sweet on me.”

“Dream on.” She jabbed a finger in his direction. “If you’re so sure Hank is wrong for your mom, why don’t you hang around and see for yourself? Get to know him, see how they interact, do a little investigating as your type usually do.”

“My type?”

“Do you really want me to list all your qualities again? I thought I did a good enough job yesterday.”

He shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m not the one trying to break up my mom’s engagement on nothing more than a whim.”

She paused for affect, knowing how to reel his type in. Make anything sound like a challenge and they’d go for it.

“Let’s make a bet. You stick around for a week, get to know Hank better and if after that time you’re still not convinced, do your worst. Besides, I bet you couldn’t last that long in this town without succumbing to Love.”

She saw a flicker of interest in his eyes and resisted the urge to yell “sucker!”

“That’s not a bet. What are you going to do to make it interesting?”

“How about I won’t actively help them plan the wedding like they’ve asked me to, if you make a genuine attempt to stick to your side of the bargain.”

His eyes narrowed, assessing her. “Let me get this straight. You back off from encouraging them, I back off from discouraging them and we see who’s right in a week?”

“Brains as well as brawn. What more could a woman want?”

“I can think of a few things.”

His voice lowered, took on a husky edge. Or was that wishful thinking?

“Do we have a deal?”

He held out his hand, his cocky smile sending her heart slamming against her ribs. “Deal.”

As his fingers wrapped around hers, their warmth tempting her to linger longer than necessary, she had the distinct impression she’d made a deal with the devil himself.

CHAPTER SIX

Cupid’s Dating Tips for the Enlightened Male

What’s hers is hers. What’s yours is hers
.

Olivia waved to Marc as he drove away, relieved as she leaned back and rested her head against Hank’s chest.

“That went better than you expected?”

Hank slid his arms around her waist, making her feel the most cherished woman in the world. His demonstrative affection another of the million and one things she’d quickly grown to love about this man.

“Sure did. Having Marc stick around is an unexpected bonus.”

And a shock she was still trying to assimilate. She didn’t know what had happened in the barn with Sierra but her career-driven son had dropped his bombshell soon after she’d left. Marc “
I can’t breathe outside the smog of LA
” Fairley was staying in town for a week and she couldn’t be happier.

Things couldn’t have worked out better if she’d orchestrated them herself. Of course, she’d given him a none-too-gentle nudge in the right direction by insisting he stay with them at the farm, knowing he’d do nothing of the sort. And when she’d suggested his only other options were the Love Inn, whose tackiness she knew he’d hate, or Flo’s empty apartment above her garage she’d known which her savvy son would choose.

He’d left not long after, citing things to organize for his stay and she’d happily watched him drive away, secure in the knowledge he’d taken a huge positive step forward in his empty life. Apart from spending quality time with him, something sadly lacking in their relationship to date, he’d get to know Hank and hopefully get to know his new neighbor, the lovely Sierra, a lot better.

“He’s a good kid, Liv.”

“You mean he listened to what you had to say?”

Hank chuckled and cuddled her closer. “We made small talk mostly though I did make it clear how much you meant to me. Not sure how he took it but my hunch is he’s willing to bury the hatchet for your sake.”

“As long as the hatchet isn’t in your back,” she said, knowing Marc wouldn’t give up easily.

A few hours earlier he’d appeared hell-bent on ruining her relationship, now he’d accepted it? She appreciated Hank’s reassurance buther son was up to something and she had every intention of discovering what that was.

“You think he’s sticking around to undermine us?” Rather than sounding worried, Hank’s chuckles deepened.

“Let him do his worst.” She tilted her head back and smiled into his sky-blue eyes. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Amen to that.”