Hitched For The Holidays: Hitched For The Holidays / A Groom In Her Stocking. Barbara Dunlop
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What he was getting was dinner, deception and her dad.
His only consolation was she was probably more uncomfortable about it than he was. She’d gotten him into this, and she’d better have good news about her father going home. He didn’t like this dating charade. Their nonrelationship was getting to him more than he would’ve believed possible.
Probably worst of all, he felt silly standing in front of her door, not knowing if she wanted him to come for dinner. Rather than show up empty-handed, he’d picked up a bouquet of flowers that reminded him of autumn in Iowa, shades of gold and rust like the late fall foliage. They were long-stemmed and wrapped in green tissue paper. All he had to do was hand them over, but now that he was about to do it, the gesture seemed romantically hokey.
Wayne had probably spotted him through the big front window, so it was too late to retreat or hide the flowers in the car. He rang the buzzer.
His wanna-be father-in-law answered the door leaning on his crutches. The old boy still didn’t know how to dress down the Arizona way. He was wearing dark navy slacks, brilliantly shined black dress shoes, and a short-sleeved blue tailored shirt. His bolo tie looked stiff and formal.
“Good to see you, Eric.” He thrust out his hand.
“Nice seeing you, sir…Wayne.”
A spicy tomato smell permeated the interior of the house making him realize how hungry he was.
“Come on in, come on in. Mindy will be out in a minute. I have to warn you though, she’s a little miffed.”
“At me?”
She could be mad because he hadn’t called all week. That would’ve been enough to send Cassandra into a blue funk, but he didn’t have a real relationship with Mindy. She could’ve called him anytime if she had something to say.
“No, not at you.” Wayne laughed a bit too heartily. “At her father. Seems I committed a social nono when I invited you to dinner. Not that she isn’t happy to have you.”
“I’ll go if being here is a problem.”
“No, stay. You’re not the one she’s angry with,” Wayne said, shuffling out of the way then shutting the door behind Eric. “I’m the one who’s in the doghouse.”
“Where is Peaches?”
Right now he’d welcome the little rascal even if she jumped all over him, panting and licking his fingers. Anything to cut off this conversation with Wayne.
“In the bedroom with Mindy. You know women. Always a few last-minute rituals they think will make them look better. With Mindy, it’s usually eyebrows. Pluck, pluck, pluck. Anything wider than a pencil line is too bushy.”
Eric smiled, entertained by her grooming secret. Now that Wayne mentioned it, her brows were dark dramatic slashes, the sexiest he’d ever noticed. He’d wanted to run his fingertip over them more than once.
She came out of her room with Peaches forming a noisy honor guard and stood by the kitchen counter with a grim expression.
“Has he told you?”
She was asking Eric. The bouquet was beginning to feel clammy in his fist. Would soggy tissue turn his hand green?
“That you’re mad at him?”
He thrust the flowers forward, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Dad was being cute when he invited you to dinner. He’s going out.”
So Wayne was playing matchmaker, inviting him over to be alone with his daughter. The sly old devil had done exactly what Eric wanted, given him a chance to talk to Mindy alone. Their deal wasn’t working for him, and this was better than meeting at his office or working things out on the phone.
“I found an old friend from college, Jack Webster, through the Internet,” her father explained sheepishly. “Turns out he lives in Phoenix. He’s picking me up any minute now. His wife divorced him after thirty-eight years of marriage, so he’s at loose ends.”
This was more than Eric wanted to know about the old college buddy, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Mindy. She was wearing blue denim overalls, loose the way farmers in Iowa wore them, but hers barely came to mid-thigh. She probably didn’t know how sexy they were, which was a big part of their appeal. With only a little white camisole showing under them, the effect was pretty spectacular. He was too busy imagining how it would feel to run his hands under the loose denim and down her sides to her panties—if she was wearing any.
She must be. She was that kind of girl, and he deserved a swift kick for confusing what he felt—or didn’t feel—for Mindy with real sexual attraction.
From outside a horn beeped.
“Oh, there’s Jack,” Wayne said. “I’ve got a spare key, Mindy. You two have a good time.”
He went down the flagstones, swinging on his crutches like a kid let out of school and got into a dark green sports utility van big enough to haul a baseball team.
“Nice your father has a friend here,” Eric said, thrusting the flowers in her direction again after she closed the door. “These are for you.”
“Thank you.” She’d probably accept a summons with the same degree of enthusiasm.
“I don’t have to stay.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“No, but…”
“I have spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove, garlic bread ready to heat, salad already tossed and lemon bars in the fridge.”
“All that for me?”
He gave her a crooked little smile hoping to break through her anger, although he didn’t know why he cared.
“No, for my scheming, conniving father who never even hinted he was going off on his own tonight until a few minutes before you got here.”
Thanks, Wayne, he thought sourly. Ignite a brush-fire and let me get burned stamping it out. The guy was looking worse all the time as a prospective father-in-law.
“By then I didn’t see much point in trying to reach you, especially since I don’t have your cell phone number. If you’d been late as usual, Dad would have been gone.”
“I’m not usually late.”
Now he was mad, too. Maybe it would be best to leave.
“He’s staying until Christmas!”
He heard the distress in her voice and forgot his own petty annoyance.
“What?”
“You heard me.” She finally took the flowers out of his still outstretched hand, but made no move to do anything with them.
“Now what do we do?” he asked.
“I have to tell him the truth. It was bad enough deceiving him when he was halfway across the country and too busy to poll everyone he’s ever known for potential husbands. I can’t keep it up another…”
She used her fingers to calculate.
“Another five and a half weeks, longer if he doesn’t leave right after Christmas.”
“He won’t be happy when he hears it.” In the short time he’d known Wayne Ryder, even he could be sure of that.
“No.”
She stared at the bouquet in her hand as though just noticing it.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome, but maybe it would be better if I leave now.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t want to go, but didn’t know why, even though the situation was definitely getting complicated.
“Stay. Please. Dinner’s nearly