Must-Have Husband (Summer Grooms Series) (6 page)

 
Connie hoped Mac
hadn’t seen her peeking at him in her vanity mirror, but she thought he’d spied
her looking just the same. She put on a dab of lipstick, then shut the mirror
flap and flipped up her visor. Linda was right. If she hadn’t been such a big
chicken, Connie never would have gotten herself into this mess. But she’d been
afraid of upsetting her whole family’s plans, and most particularly of breaking
her grandpa’s heart. His health was failing, and she didn’t know how well he
could withstand another emotional blow. When she’d lost her last fiancé, her grandpa
had been hospitalized a whole week! She’d gone to visit and had overheard him
begging the priest,
“Please ask God to
let me live long enough to see my last granddaughter married.”
On one hand,
Connie had felt upset his expectations put so much pressure on her. On the
other, she understood he came from a traditional background where he wanted to
feel as if the women in the family were taken care of. Naturally, Connie could
take care of herself. But at nearly eighty years old, her grandfather couldn’t
be convinced. There wasn’t much point in trying.

Connie sighed and looked out at the rolling hills around
them. They’d be approaching their vineyard soon. Linda hadn’t said much during
their long drive. She’d just sat there wearing dark glasses, with that baseball
cap on her head and the radio turned up high, blasting out some funky Brazilian
tunes. She didn’t appear to be having second thoughts about their plan. In
fact, she seemed uncannily relaxed, sitting there thumping her fingers against
the steering wheel to the beat of the music, a mildly distracted expression on
her face. She was probably thinking about Beau and being back in his arms. They
had such a great marriage, those two. It was a hard enough act to follow with a
genuine fiancé. Connie wasn’t one hundred percent sure she’d be able to pull it
off with a fake one. She’d have to try, though. Her grandpa’s happiness during
his big birthday celebration depended on it. The deal she’d struck with Mac
would ultimately help a lot of other people too. How hard could it be?
Pretending she was about to get married? She’d played that role three times
already. By now, she should have it down pat.

Mac had to keep his jaw from dropping when they pulled up
the broad circular drive. No sooner had they arrived under the huge portico
when three staff members popped outdoors. A valet went immediately to the driver’s
side, ushering Linda out of the car, while two others elegantly opened car
doors for Connie and Mac, offering to assist with luggage. Mac didn’t have much
except for the rucksack he’d slung in the trunk, and he was capable of carrying
that himself. Likely much more capable than the slender, elderly man who
offered to take it for him. Mac was floored. He didn’t think people really had
butlers anymore. At least they didn’t in the neighborhood he came from. He
stared up at the peach-colored house, styled somewhat like an Italian villa,
and counted ten sets of windows across, and that was on
either side
of the looming front door. The upstairs appeared even grander,
with pretty balconies protruding from french doors that swept across the building’s
stucco façade.

Connie and Linda chatted easily with the old man, who Connie
introduced as Charles, and the sweet middle-aged lady named Matilda who fussed
over the girls, telling them how well they looked after their time out “in
nature.” Neither seemed to miss a beat when Connie claimed him as her fiancé.
Each had simply given him a cursory once-over and said they hoped he’d enjoy
his stay. In an odd sort of way, Mac’s appearance seemed fairly routine to
them. Mac secretly wondered just how many other fiancés Connie had previously
brought home, then decided he’d better not ask. As the valet drove the car
away, the front door swung open before they could reach it.

“Darlings!” an elegant fifty-something woman said. She was
neatly put together with a soft complexion and yellow-gold hair spun up in a
twist.

“Hi, Mom,” the girls said in turn, giving her quick hugs.

“I heard you come through the front gate, and—” She
turned her gaze suddenly on Mac. “Well, hello. Who do we have here?”

Matilda and Charles stepped past her, carting the girls’
luggage up a curved staircase. The stunning entrance hall was plastered with
works of art and dripping with elegant chandeliers. Through archways beyond it,
Mac spied more staff members setting up dining tables draped with white linen
cloths in a central courtyard plumed with potted plants and flowers. Silverware
clanked lightly as place settings were laid around blooming centerpieces.

“Mother,” Connie said, proudly taking his arm. “I’d like you
to meet Mac, my fiancé.”

“Your…? I’m sorry, did you say
fiancé
?”

Connie nodded triumphantly, and their mom leaned toward
Linda with a whisper. “What happened to…?” she asked, but not quite quietly
enough.

Connie waved her free hand in the air. “Ancient history, but
this man, here…” She tugged Mac toward her by their interlinked arms. “
He
is my future.”

“Oh my.” She looked back and forth between the two of them,
her aristocratic cheekbones turning a dusty rose. “Well, Mac,” she said, collecting
herself. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She extended her hand. “I’m Elizabeth
Oliver. Welcome to our home.”

“I thought I heard chatter!” A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper
hair drew near, appearing from the west wing. “Linda, Constance, welcome back.”
He curiously eyed Mac. “Greetings.”

“Mac’s the
fiancé
,”
Elizabeth said with a tight smile.

The color drained from his face. “The what?”

Connie extended the fingers of her left hand, flashing him a
lovely solitaire. She and Linda had agreed she couldn’t surface with a fake
fiancé and no ring. It had been a simple matter of sliding the one back on her
finger that Walt had given her. Since he’d refused to take it back, she hadn’t
even removed it until the morning of their hiking excursion. It was practically
like an old friend, having spent barely any time off her finger at all.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and stared at Connie.

“You and I need to talk,” she said, forcing out words lined
with sugar.

“Sure, Mom,” Connie said brightly. “Just as soon as Mac
settles in.”

“Mac,” her father said with an appraising frown, “I’m
Wendell Jr., but calling me Mr. Oliver will work fine.”

Mac nodded. “Thank you for including me in your family’s
celebration.”

“Why, you’re practically family too.” Elizabeth demurely
cocked her chin. “Aren’t you?”

Connie loudly shut the front door behind her as a younger
man bounded down the steps. He appeared to be in his twenties with a solid
build and dark hair like his father’s.

“Well, look who’s home!” he bellowed. “My two favorite
sisters in the world.”

“We’re your only two sisters,” Linda replied smartly before
making her departure. “If you guys will excuse me,” she told the others, “I
have a husband to find.”

Connie’s brother strode over and took Mac’s hand. “You must
be Connie’s intended. I’m Ollie.”

“Adam McCormack, but my friends call me Mac.” He shook Ollie’s
hand. “Good to know you.”

“Ollie?” Elizabeth said in her gracious-hostess tone, why
don’t you show Mac to the blue room upstairs while I help Connie unpack?”

“No problem. Can I help you with that?” he asked,
referencing Mac’s backpack.

“Thanks. I’ve got it,” Mac said, hoping his eyes didn’t
betray him as he looked around. This place was a palace, nearly as large as a
museum. Heck, maybe it was even bigger than some of them. The real difference
was, when showtime came, Mac was well aware that he’d be the one on display.

“What’s going on?” Elizabeth asked as Connie unpacked her
bags.

Connie turned her back on her mom to hang a few things in
her closet. “Like I told you, Mac is my fiancé. We’re engaged.”

“Since when?”

Connie paused in sliding her cotton shirt onto a hanger. She
hadn’t had occasion to use all her clothes. Being lost in the forest had spared
some of her wardrobe. “Since…he asked me to marry him!” Having her mom believe
in the charade was just as important as convincing her grandfather. It was
one for all, and all for one
in this
family. If her folks didn’t buy in, her Grandpa might grow skeptical too.

Her mom strode over and leaned into the door jamb of the
closet. She stared straight at Connie, who stood there with that blasted hanger
hovering in midair. “And, when was that? Precisely?”

“Um…” Connie hooked the hanger over the closet bar and
quickly tried to calculate a reasonable date. But it was hard to focus on a
mental calendar with her mom trapping her in that cool blue stare. “It was
shortly after Walt dumped me,” she added hastily before hurrying back to her
suitcase to grab another armful of clothes. “At first I worried it was a
rebound thing. But nope! We’re solid.”

“Gracious. That’s all clean? Didn’t you wear anything while
you were gone?” Suddenly seeming to recall her daughter had been with Mac,
Elizabeth bit her lip. “Don’t tell me you and he… Not with Linda along!”

“For heaven’s sake, Mom. You know me better than that. Besides,
it’s not like Linda’s a saint, you know.”

A few bedrooms away and just down the hall, Linda drew the
curtains, hearing the shower running. It had been too long since she’d seen
him; she couldn’t wait. Beau was her everything. Her sun and the moon, with a
nice smattering of stardust too. She’d been so lucky to find him, and now she
was eager to remind him how happy she felt. She slipped from her clothes and
laid her hand on the bathroom doorknob, turning it gently. Every room in this
house was its own master suite, complete with a well-appointed bath. While she
didn’t live here anymore, she could still appreciate the amenities this house
had to offer.

Not that she minded the cute bungalow she shared with Beau
in the city. She found it charming, in fact, and had worked hard to make their
small house feel like a home. Beau worked hard too, toiling relentlessly in
medical school. She couldn’t be any more proud of him, or any more determined
to help support his dream by keeping things together on her accountant’s
salary. Linda had always been good with numbers and was proud of what she did.
She also was infinitely pleased that she and Beau were getting by without any
help from her exceedingly wealthy family. He had a part-time job in the lab,
and together they were making it. Once he had passed his boards and begun
practicing, they’d be better off still. Linda sneaked into the bathroom,
thinking how much she loved her life.

The room was steamy and warm, the full length of the mirror fogged
with steam. Repressing a giggle, she pressed open the double shower door and
stepped inside.

“Who’s there?” Beau asked, still lathering his hair.

She wrapped her arms around him, her forearms slipping
against his hairy, muscled chest. “Who do you think?” she asked above the rush
of the water.

He rubbed the lather from his eyes and spun slowly to face
her in the steamy downpour. “I was hoping to hell it was my wife,” he said, his
voice husky.

She looked up at him, thrilled to be his, wanting to be all
his for the moment.

“Who else would it be?” she asked saucily, sliding her arms
up his back and linking her hands behind his neck.

“Matilda?” he teased with a grin.

She laughed happily. “Stop it!”

“Stop?” he said, pulling her to him and bringing his mouth
down on hers. “I was just about to start.”

“Did you bring any other clothes?” Ollie asked as Mac dumped
the contents of his rucksack on the bed.

“What you see is what you get.”

“Hmm.”

“I hope it’s not a problem. In my day job, I don’t have much
occasion to—”

“What is your day job, by the way?”

“I run a camping store. Did, I mean.”

“Did?”

“Got roasted in that last round of forest fires.”

Ollie’s face registered sympathy. “I’m sorry. That’s rough.”

“Some things can’t be helped. Acts of God.”

“Or nature.”

“No.”

Ollie studied him, appraising his frame. “Tell you what, I
might have something that will work.”

“A suit, you mean?”

Ollie shrugged. “We always dress for dinner here, and
Grandpa’s party will be no exception. No offense, but jeans and flannel
probably won’t cut it.”

“No offense taken,” Mac answered honestly, feeling as if
Connie should have warned him. Then again, maybe she hadn’t thought of it
herself. They were so busy concocting their imaginary backstory, they’d
completely failed to talk about what each of them should wear. Of course,
Connie always came out well-coiffed. So maybe it hadn’t even occurred to her
that Mac might require a few gentle suggestions.

“Be back in a sec,” Ollie said with a grin.

“Speaking of clothing,” Elizabeth said, “we’ve had a very
special arrival from New York this week.”

Connie caught her breath with a gasp. “The dress?”

“
The dress,
” her
mom answered with a firm nod. “And let me tell you it is
beau-ti-ful
. Just gorgeous. That heirloom storage shop does
impeccable work.”

Connie swallowed hard. “I’m sure.” She walked in a daze to
the bed and sat with a thunk. Naturally, her mom and the rest of the family had
still supposed she was marrying Walt in a few months, but nobody had warned her
the historic wedding gown was being recalled from storage already. “What’s the
rush?”

Elizabeth sat beside her, giving her a sympathetic smile. “The
rush
, darling, is that you had a
wedding planned for August. Dresses require fittings. Even one as special as
this, with which your grandmother took such care.” And her Grandma Oliver had
taken great care too. She’d thought out the entire process of her dress being
passed down to her daughters in advance. In case they were larger than she was,
she’d had an extra panel made from matching Paris lace, which could be inserted
in back to augment the dress. In the event they were taller, she’d had an
additional underskirt made, also from identical Paris lace, which could
increase the gown’s length. But alas, after all that trouble, she and Wendell
Oliver, Senior had only been blessed with three boys. Fortunately for the
intended family tradition, each of them had produced wives and daughters, with
Wendell Junior delivering two girls of his own. After her mom and a preceding
line of aunts and cousins, Linda had worn the dress and looked lovely. It was
Connie’s turn to wear it next. Their grandpa was firmly convinced that the
dress held great magical powers to bestow a happy marriage. Well, it seemed to
have worked out in Linda’s case anyhow.