Authors: Julie Ortolon
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Domestic Life, #Single Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary Fiction, #Humor, #Series
“Alec, I don’t know about this.” She wrapped her arms about her middle. “It’s asking you to sacrifice too much. First you have to move away from the mountains. Now you have to give up Buddy? How long before you resent me for it?”
“What is the alternative?” He rose and cupped her face in one hand. “Not get married?”
“It just… doesn’t seem fair.” Dangerously near tears, she twined her arms about his neck and buried her face against his chest. “Why does everything have to have a price?”
“Because that’s how life works.” He rubbed her back, soothing her when she should have been soothing him. “It’ll work, honey. Honest. We’ll make it work.” They clung to each other a long time before he lifted his head. “Now, come on. Let’s go back to the trailer. My mom promised cobbler and ice cream for dessert. I can’t say much for the company around here, but you can’t beat the food.”
“Okay,” she agreed, even though nothing seemed remotely okay.
“I can’t believe we’re running so late.”
“We’re not that late.” Alec tried to relax as Christine drove through her parents’ neighborhood. The houses ranged in size and style from quaint bungalows to imposing mansions. He knew even the smaller ones went for a bundle. “It’s not like we have to get there right at the stroke of six, is it?”
Her only answer was a shaky laugh.
“Ah, come on, it’s your family, not a firing squad,” he teased in an effort to lighten the tension that had been mounting all day. He couldn’t believe she’d dragged him to a department store earlier to buy a sport coat and tie, then changed her own clothes three times before leaving the apartment. “What’s the worst that will happen when we arrive fifteen minutes late?”
“Twenty,” she corrected, glancing at her diamond watch. “But at least we’re here.”
He glanced out the side window and felt some relief at the sight of a moderately sized house. Except she drove past that and turned into what looked like a small park. Then he saw the house and blinked.
Holy moly
. He stared at the rock castle complete with a turret. The flower beds surrounding it would take an army to maintain. So much for relaxing.
“You grew up here?” His voice went up in pitch as she followed the drive around to a covered motor court on the side.
“No. Mom and Dad didn’t move here until I was in high school. We lived in several houses before that, starting with the little place they lived in when I was born and gradually moving up.”
He looked at her. “Define little.”
“Crap,” she swore. “My brother is already here. Of course. Why can’t he ever be late?” She pulled in beside a black BMW, then sat staring at the house. With a muttered curse, she opened her purse and dug through it.
“Chris, one question before we go any further.”
“What?”
“You know I can’t afford to live like this, ever, right? And that even if I could, I wouldn’t want to?”
“Actually, that’s not true, but at least we agree on the last part.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Alec.” Impatience tinged her voice. “The minute we marry, what’s mine is yours and vice versa.”
It hit him suddenly that she probably could afford to live like this. If not now, sometime in the future. He’d known she came from money, but knowing and seeing were not the same thing. Good grief, she probably had trust funds and mutual funds and all kinds of dollars tucked in accounts multiplying like rabbits.
Even if she didn’t want to live like this, she’d want a much nicer house than a paramedic could afford.
She pulled a prescription bottle out of her purse and shook a small white pill into her hand.
“What is that?” He frowned.
She tossed the pill back and swallowed it dry. “Just a little something to help me get through the evening without hyperventilating.”
“
A
tranquilizer?” The knots in his stomach tightened even more. “You need a tranquilizer to introduce me to your parents?”
“Alec—” She sighed heavily. “I’m on the verge of an all-out panic attack here, so please, don’t take it personally. It’s hardly the first time I’ve needed help getting through an evening with my family.”
“Hey.” Concern rose as he took her hand. “Look at me.” When she did, he saw the same wide-eyed look she’d worn those first few rides on the lift. “Why don’t we sit here for a minute?”
“Because we’re already late.”
“I know, but talk to me.” He shifted toward her. “Are you embarrassed to have your family meet me?”
“No,” she insisted a little too strongly.
“Truth, Chris. Please.”
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe, but it’s not you. It’s hard to explain. I just…”
“What?”
“I want them to respect my decision and be happy for me.” Her eyes searched his. “For them to see that you make me happy. That you’re perfect for me, even if—” She broke off.
“Even if I don’t measure up to their standards.”
“I didn’t say that.” She looked away. “Let’s not have this conversation, okay? Anything I say is going to come out wrong. Let’s just go in and get this over with.”
“All right. But first—” He slipped his free hand around the back of her neck and covered her mouth in a long, deep kiss. Pulling back, he stared hard into her eyes. “I love you. You got that?”
She sagged a bit as worry lined her brow. “I love you too.”
Why did he hear an ominous “but” on the end of that statement? He squeezed her neck. “I’m marrying you, not them. So I only care what you think.”
“You really do make me happy.” Another silent “but” hung between them.
He decided to ignore it. For now. “Okay, then. Let’s go brave the lion’s den.”
He stepped from the car and waited for her to come around to his side. She tugged at her pearl-gray cocktail dress and smoothed the hair she’d twisted up in back. Bypassing the side door, they headed down a flower-lined path to the imposing front entrance. He frowned when she rang the bell, rather than going straight in. “You ring the bell at your parents’ house?”
“Alec, this isn’t a casual visit.” That was the third time in the past five minutes she’d started a sentence by saying his name in that exasperated tone. She was nervous, though, so he would cut her some slack. Or not, he thought as she tightened his tie and smoothed his lapels. “This is our engagement dinner and we need it to go well.”
“Of course.” He resisted the urge to loosen the tie back to where he’d had it.
A small, dark-hared woman wearing a maid’s uniform opened the door, bobbing her head and motioning for them to enter.
“Good evening, Rosa.”
While Christine greeted the woman, Alec glanced discreetly about the foyer. Walls soared upward from an acre of marble. Stone columns held up archways, and a staircase with a fancy railing curved up to the second floor. He felt as if he’d stepped into some Italian villa that dated back to the Whatever Century, when Prince Whosit summered there. That’s how the wealthy said it. They didn’t visit places, they summered.
“Are my parents in the den?”
“
Si
.” The woman nodded, eying Alec with open curiosity.
“Oh, Rosa, this is Alec Hunter, my fiance. Alec, this is Rosa.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He moved his hands restlessly, not sure if they were supposed to shake. What was proper protocol for meeting someone’s maid?
The woman smiled back broadly, saying nothing but looking pleased. Well she, at least, approved of him.
“Ready?” Christine slipped her arm through his.
“Lead the way.” They headed through a formal dining room, where the table had been set for their engagement dinner. The place settings sparkled and gleamed white, gold, and silver against the dark, massive table. He heard the rumble of male voices and classical music playing softly as they crossed another acre of marble. They finally reached the archway to “the den.”
Alec held back as Christine hurried forward to greet the two women seated on a red and gold sofa. Christine’s father and brother stood before a large window that offered a view of the gardens out back. They looked like matched bookends, both wearing gray suits and facing each other with highball glasses in hand.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Ah, Christine. There you are.”
While Alec had met the others, this was his first glimpse of Christine’s mother. The woman rose gracefully, wearing a silk pantsuit that looked like fancy pajamas but probably cost a fortune.
Christine kissed her mother’s cheek. “Sorry we’re late.”
“You always are.” Mrs. Ashton turned to him. Her face held all of Christine’s beauty: the same gray eyes, fine bones, and even the same haughty expression that Christine could summon so well. Here, though, was none of the underlying humor that made the look amusing. “This must be Alec, the young man you spent so much time with during our skiing trip.”
“Yes.” Christine held out her hand, beckoning him to her. When she took his hand, she clung to it, squeezing his fingers as she made the introductions, first to her mother, then her father and brother as the men came forward, and finally to her sister-in-law.
With Natalie came the only genuine warmth in the room. She was petite and pretty in a sleeveless red dress that looked more classy than sexy. She smiled broadly. “We met the day of the snowboard competition.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “It’s good to see you again.” She’d been friendly that day too.
“Christine’s ski instructor, right?” The brother lifted a brow, then looked at his father. “You remember, right, Dad?”
“Vaguely.” Robert Ashton studied Alec with cool blue eyes.
“I told you,” Christine corrected with a stiff smile. “Alec isn’t actually a ski instructor. He was helping out a friend. He’s Silver Mountain’s search-and-rescue coordinator. Although he’ll be working as a paramedic here.”
“Search and rescue. Now there’s an… interesting job.” Robbie’s hesitation was brief but telling. His subtle hostility surprised Alec since the man had been cordial the one and only time they’d met.
Natalie slipped an arm about her husband’s waist, and if Alec had to guess, pinched him in the side. “We’re all delighted over the engagement and eager to get to know you.”
“Thank you.” Alec felt the tie cutting off his air.
“Can I get you two a drink?” the senior Dr. Ashton asked. “Christine, I assume you want a glass of char-donnay.”
“That will be fine.”
“Alec?” Dr. Ashton moved to a wet bar with lighted shelves that held a variety of liquor bottles.
Alec stared at them, having no idea what to request, since this sort of quality would be lost on him. What was that stuff Kreiger drank when he was feeling extravagant? “Do you have any single malt Scotch?”
Dr. Ashton gave him a bland look. “I assume Glen-fiddich will do?”
“Sure.” Alec shrugged casually. No big deal. Drink it every day. For all he knew, Christine’s father was about to serve him something that was a hundred years old and cost a hundred bucks a shot.
“My son and I were just discussing long-range stock planning,” Dr. Ashton said as he poured amber liquid into a fancy glass and handed it to Alec. “What are your thoughts on the subject?”
Alec sniffed at the potent liquid in his glass, wondering if it was Scotch or paint remover. Dr. Ashton watched him expectantly, and Alec knew no matter what he said, he was screwed. Christine’s parents had made up their minds before he’d even walked in the door. Well, if they were going to disapprove, it might as well be of the real him and not this dressed-up version Christine was trying to present.