Unexpected Bride (18 page)

"Hell, no."

Abby had hoped to avoid the man behind the counter, but she should have known there was no avoiding anyone in Cloverville. "Mr. Carpenter, you're still managing the store all by yourself?"

She was surprised he hadn't sold out or gone under from the pressure of the big-box hardware store built on the outskirts of town. But the people of Cloverville, if nothing else, were loyal.

Even though she'd been gone eight years, loyalty was a permanent part of her makeup, too. If it weren't, she wouldn't still be in town three days after the wedding that wasn't, waiting for Molly to call or come home.

Ah, hell, she wasn't waiting for Molly. She couldn't offer her friend any counsel, not when she was as scared and confused as the runaway bride. She'd dreaded coming back to Cloverville for Molly's wedding, but now she was actually considering opening an office in town. The businesswoman in her validated the location as a sound investment in a growing community. But the disgraced teenager in her just wanted to run again.

Since Clayton wouldn't lease her office space, Mrs. Mick had offered her den as Abby's "home" office. So she'd come to the hardware store for a few things to organize the space: a couple of shelves, some drawer dividers and an in/out box. The items shifted in the precarious pile she'd made on the counter.

"I could use some help," the older man admitted as he rung up the items. "Just during the busy times."

Which she suspected were less and less frequent. She and Lara were the only customers in the store this Tuesday afternoon. The child stood behind Abby, only chancing peeks at the old man behind the counter. Age hadn't mellowed the store owner much. His voice was still a robust bellow.

"I can't keep help," he said, his hearing aid screeching above his raised voice.

Gee, I wonder why.
..

"Just look al my windows."

She winced, not wanting to be reminded again of her past mistakes. Unlike the colonel, she had actually been responsible for damaging the front of Mr. Carpenter's store. Driving too fast and bad brakes were not a good combination; she'd shared that wisdom as well as a few other bits with Rory when she'd given him the speech the other night. Remembering all the advice she'd given the boy, she lifted her gaze to meet Mr. Carpenter's as she said, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "All those streaks on that new glass."

"New glass?"

"Yeah, those Hendrix boys..." He shook his head.

She
had
to meet these Hendrix boys, although she somehow doubted she'd be able to talk sense into them as easily as she had Rory. From what Rory had shared about his friends, they didn't have the loving family he did. They were growing up as Abby had. Unloved. Unwanted. Old bitterness choked her, but she pushed it all down with the bad memories.

"The windows look great," she said.

He shook his head again. "No. I can't reach up like I used to. Damn bursitis." His face flushed as he caught Lara peeking at him, wide-eyed. "Sorry."

"That's okay," she assured the old man. "Staying with the McClintocks, she's already learned some new words."

"That Rory." Mr. Carpenter shook his head. "The boy makes
you
look like an angel." He flushed again as he caught the little girl's rapt gaze. "Uh-huh, your mother was an angel."

Clayton pressed a hand over his face to contain his snort of derision. Abby Hamilton an angel? Not in this lifetime. But he didn't want them to know he'd entered the store. He ducked behind a rack of paint cans, peering through the shelves to where Abby and Lara stood in front of the counter while Mr. Carpenter leaned over the cash register, probably guarding his proceeds from the wild Hamilton girl.

"You are an angel now," Mr. Carpenter said, shocking Clayton as much as he apparently had Abby.

She stepped back, and her blue eyes widened into luminescent circles. "What?"

"Helping people."

"Just Mrs. Hild the other morning..."

"I know about your business, Abby. You done good, girl. You've made Cloverville proud."

Those huge eyes of hers blinked fast and furiously, as if she were fighting the threat of tears. "I didn't know you knew."

"Oh, yes, Mary McClintock brags about you like you're one of her own."

Clayton's mom had spread around town the news of Abby's success? How come he'd never heard about her business until she'd told him the other morning? Oh, yeah, because any time anyone had brought up Abby Hamilton he'd changed the subject, feigning disinterest. He'd obviously been convincing. He'd even convinced himself he'd forgotten about her until she'd walked through the airport terminal, holding the hand of her daughter.

No one could forget about Abby Hamilton. But he had to—the last thing Clayton wanted in his life was more responsibility. He doubted Rory's change of attitude would last, but even if Rory turned into a choir boy Clayton wasn't looking for any more complications in his life.

"You should open up a branch of that business of yours right here in Cloverville," Mr. Carpenter bellowed at her. "I know I could use some temps, someone to help me out when it's busy or to cover for me when I want to go on vacation."

"You take vacations, Mr. Carpenter?" she asked, her voice lilting playfully as she teased the old man.

"The wife's been nagging me to, and maybe she's right. I work too damned hard." He flushed again as he glanced at Lara. "You know about hard work, or you wouldn't have accomplished what you have."

Hard work and focus had been necessary for the success that Abby had achieved. How had she managed it? Maybe he needed to finally accept that she wasn't the girl who'd mn away from Cloverville eight years ago. But if he accepted that about her, he might have to accept other things about Abby, like the way she made him feel.

Out of control. Clayton hated being out of control. He still couldn't believe what he'd done to her in the hall outside his father's den, nor could he believe what he'd wanted to do until she'd turned him down and brought him back to his senses.

"Thank you, Mr. Carpenter," she said, her voice breaking with sincerity.

"You should think about it. girl." the old man pressured her.

"I have," she admitted. "I even talked to someone about leasing office space for a branch in Cloverville."

"Where would that be?" the old man asked, lifting a bushy gray eyebrow.

"Right here on Main Street."

"You understand, girl.
This
is Cloverville." He lifted his arms wide, as if encompassing the entire street. "Not those strip malls on the edge of town. We keep up like this, with all those new dang buildings, and we'll be a part of Grand Rapids. We'll lose our identity."

"That'll never happen," Abby assured him.

The old man nodded. "Yeah, we'll always have the colonel."

Abby winced, probably expecting more of the treatment she'd been given eight years ago. The townspeople had been harsh on her, no one more than Clayton had. She'd just been a kid who'd made a stupid mistake. She should have been able to live it down. Clayton moved to the end of the rack, coming around the corner to leap to her defense.

Mr. Carpenter winked at her. "It makes us special. You made us special, honey. You need to come home."

She shook her head. "I was only thinking about opening an office here."

Not about coming home, only opening another branch office. Clayton realized she'd never mentioned moving back to Cloverville, and she'd never admitted to wanting to live here. She'd been bored eight years ago, and that had been before she'd lived in bustling cities. She could never be happy here now.

"You're staying with the McCiinlocks. So you must know which space is available on Main Street," Mr. Carpenter pointed out.

Abby shrugged. "Yeah, I talked to the landlord." she said, glancing down at her daughter.

He was acting like a fool, Clayton thought, hiding around the corner to eavesdrop. He stepped out into the aisle behind her and Lara, just as she added, "But the jerk refused to rent to me."

Mr. Carpenter chuckled. "Speak of the devil." Abby glanced over her shoulder, not even lifting an eyebrow in surprise at his presence. She'd obviously known, the minute he'd entered the store. "Yup," she agreed, "the devil."

"Clayton!" Lara squealed, tugging free of her mother to launch herself into his arms.

Clayton's heart swelled and warmed. "Hey, sweetheart."

Over her little blond head, he met her mother's gaze. Her eyes glittered with concern. Lara had only known him a few days, so how had the little girl gotten so attached to him? Despite having two softhearted sisters, Clayton didn't understand. But he was more concerned about how
he
had gotten so attached to Lara.

Abby rapped her knuckles against the doorjamb before poking her head inside the private office. She drew in a quick breath of surprise at the sight of her most fearless friend with her face buried in her hands. "Hey, Brenna, are you okay?"

The redhead nodded, but wiped her eyes before lifting her gaze to meet Abby's. Red rimmed her green eyes. "I'm fine."

"You've been crying."

Brenna shook her head. "PMS. Don't worry about me."

Usually she wouldn't, but something had been off about Brenna since the minute Abby had returned to town. Or maybe she'd just missed too much over the past eight years by relying on sporadic visits, e-mails and phone calls to keep up with her friends.

Giving Brenna a moment to compose herself, Abby checked out the office. Walls painted to look like Venetian plaster, overstuffed chairs and antique oak furniture made the space as inviting as a home and reflected the personality of the owner—warm and nurturing.

Concern drew Abby's attention back to Brenna. She was the one who took care of everyone else, like Clayton tried to. So who comforted her?

"You don't cry over PMS," she reminded Brenna.

"Allergies then, making my eyes water."

"Brenna, I hope you know you can talk to me. I won't tell anyone."

The redhead smiled. "I know you'd take my secrets to your grave," she said. "Colleen told me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." It was Colleen's secret to share, not Abby's.

"Have you heard from Molly?" Brenna asked, deftly changing the subject as she wadded up the tissue she'd been clutching and stuffed it in her trash can.

"No. That's why I stopped by." Abby had thought if anyone might have heard from Molly it would have been Brenna, who'd been the maid of honor. But Molly had left
Abby
the note, asking her to stay.

"We could drive over to Eric's."

"And what?" Abby asked. "Break down the door?"

The temper to match her red hair hardened Brenna's deep voice as she admitted, "I wouldn't have a problem with that."

"But they might. And then we what...? Lose
two
friends?"

"So you don't want to do anything? You're content to sit around and wait for her to figure out what she really wants?" Now bitterness was added to Brenna's anger.

She'd obviously had more invested in the wedding than Abby had realized. Or more invested in the groom? Was Brenna developing feelings for her handsome houseguest? Brenna was too loyal to act on an attraction to her friend's man, though. So she wasn't likely to confess her feelings— even to herself.

"I'm never content," Abby reminded her friend. No matter what she accomplished, she felt as if she was missing something; as if she'd failed some lest she hadn't even known she'd taken. "I understand Molly being confused. Ever since her dad died, she's thrown herself into school and hasn't taken even a minute to think."

Abby had pretty much done the same thing when she'd left Cloverville. She'd worked hard so that she wouldn't have time to think. But now Molly had brought her back here, forcing her to confront the past that Abby had wanted so badly to leave far, far behind her.

Brenna sighed. "You're right. She deserves to take some time to herself for once."

"Yes." Abby wished she could do the same, not that she wanted time away from her daughter. Just away from Cloverville and Clayton.

"So what are you doing today?" Brenna asked.

"I'm giving Lara a behind-the-scenes look at a bakery."

Brenna stood up and peered around Abby. "Where is she?"

"Your parents stole her from me, the minute I walked through the door."

Brenna laughed. "You may not get her back. They've pretty much stolen Buzz and T.J. from Josh."

"I thought I heard them," Abby said. Even now, back in the wing of offices, peals of laughter could be heard. "Lots of sugar might not be the best idea for them."

'They're good boys." Brenna leapt to the twins' defense. "They've been through a lot."

Abby nodded, unwilling to argue with her friend, whose eyes shone again with tears. "I know." Molly had told her how their mother had taken off when the twins were babies. Until she'd met the handsome Dr. Towers, Abby had figured Molly had accepted his proposal out of pity. She'd always had such a soft a heart. "Josh still staying with your family?"

Her eyes brimming with tears again, Brenna nodded. "He's waiting for Molly to come back."

"Poor
Molly." Abby said with irony. "Men always fall for her." Since the second grade. Abby had never had that problem. Men never fell for her.

Especially not Clayton. He wouldn't even lease her office space. But, then, he was probably right. She'd be crazy to open a branch of Temps to Go in Cloverville—then she'd
have
to come back here. That was why she hadn't argued with his decision and tried to convince him to change his mind.

"I can't believe how much this place has changed." Abby said, gesturing around the office to draw Brenna back from the depths of her sad mood. "You have a wonderful setup here." While the quaint storefront remained the same on Main Street, the building had been expanded in the back to include a wing of offices and an industrialized kitchen, from which Brenna shipped Kelly Bakery goods to grocery stores throughout the Midwest.

Brenna settled an ample hip on the corner of her desk. A smile of pride brightened her round face. "See, you can run a successful business from Cloverville."