him to respond and correct the misconception. His wife and daughter? He’d never take a wife, never have children of his own. That was one plan he didn’t intend to let his family change.
“Despite the computer problems at the airport, they stayed so sweet and patient. They’re beautiful,” the stranger continued. “You’re a lucky man.”
Clayton simply nodded, not wasting any time with explanations. They were already late. After the rehearsal dinner he would dump Abby, her daughter and suitcases at his mother’s house, and his responsibilities to her would be over.
“SLOW DOWN, CLAYTON,” Abby said. Sun-streaked fields and dappled woods whipped past the windows of the hybrid SUV. She turned toward the backseat, where Lara’s head bobbed in her sleep with each bump in the road. Less than a foot of console separated Abby from Clayton’s broad shoulder. His jaw was rigidly set as he stared straight ahead at the road leading into Cloverville.
He hadn’t even heard her request. She reached over and touched his thigh. Muscles flexed beneath her fingers and the SUV surged forward as his foot pressed harder on the accelerator.
“Clayton, slow down!” she whispered, not wanting to wake her daughter, even though Lara could sleep anywhere and through anything.
“Grabbing my leg isn’t going to slow me down,” he said tersly, as he eased off the gas. “It’s actually a good way to wind up in the ditch.”
Fingers tingling, Abby snatched back her hand and knotted her fingers in her lap. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but you didn’t hear me.”
“Telling me to slow down?” he said. “I thought you were kidding, considering the way you drive. You thrive on speed.”
“I used to,” she admitted. Although speed had had little to do with her poor driving. Undiagnosed attention deficit disorder had been the real reason for her erratic youthful driving—that and bad brakes.
“Did having a kid finally settle you down?”
Diet and exercise had gotten the ADD under control, but nothing had affected her as much as becoming a mother. “Yes,” she agreed.
“Responsibility will do that to you,” he said, his voice thick with bitterness.
She’d always figured that after he’d mourned the loss of his father, he’d enjoyed stepping into the patriarch’s shoes and taking control of his family. Even before his dad had gotten sick, Clayton had bossed his younger siblings and Abby around so much that they’d all looked forward to his leaving for college.
Maybe his bitterness was because he’d never gotten over his father’s death. It had affected all their lives so much. “Clayton…”
He turned his head slightly, his gaze skimming over her. The tingling spread from her fingertips throughout her body in reaction to that look. What the heck was that about? He’d never looked at her like that when they were younger, when she’d secretly wished he would; wished that he’d return from college and notice that she was all grown up.
“What?” he asked when she remained silent with remembered self-disgust. In the end, she’d actually missed him when he’d gone away to college. She doubted he’d missed her at all these past eight years.
She expelled a soft, shaky sigh. “So are you speeding to the church?”
He shook his head. “When I went to get the car, I called Brenna’s cell. Reverend Howland had another commitment and couldn’t wait any longer, so they had to rehearse without the missing members of the party.”
“Us,” she acknowledged, bracing herself for his accusatory stare. He’d always blamed her for any trouble his sisters had gotten into. Like the tattoos, for instance. But in Abby’s opinion, this wedding was the most trouble Molly had ever gotten into, and she wanted to get her out.
“We weren’t the only ones who missed the rehearsal,” Clayton admitted. “Neither the best man nor Eric was there.”
“Eric.” Eric South been the lone male member of a group of friends that included Abby, Brenna Kelly, Molly and Molly’s sister, Colleen, who was a few years younger than the classmates. “I hope he makes it to the dinner.” He could help Abby talk Molly out of marrying a stranger.
“I hope we do,” Clayton muttered as he pressed down on the accelerator.
Abby lifted her hand from her lap but stopped herself from reaching across the console again. “I’m surprised an insurance agent would drive so fast. I remember the lecture about driving responsibly that Mr. Mick gave me when I got my license.”
“You listened?” he asked, sounding surprised. Probably remembering his father’s patented lecture himself, he slowed down.
“Since you run the agency now, do you give the safe-driving speech, too?” she asked.
He nodded. “At the high school and the office.”
Just as his father had done. Had Clayton chosen to be an insurance agent or had he just assumed the job when he’d taken over his father’s business after he died? She couldn’t ask something so personal. They weren’t friends nor were they ever likely to be.
“The Kellys always make plenty of food.” She doubted that had changed. “Why are you in such a hurry to get back to Cloverville? Do you have to pick up a date for the dinner?”
Under his breath, he muttered, “Not anymore.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. Apparently even the Clayton McClintocks of the world got dumped. “Then you just don’t want to be alone with me.”
He didn’t deny her assumption. “How long are you planning on staying?”
Obviously he didn’t want her in Cloverville any more than she wanted to be back. Since he’d slowed down, the scenery enveloped them. Fields and woods, trees thick with green leaves gave way to subdivisions crowded with new houses, streets lined with strip malls, box stores and fast-food restaurants. “This is Cloverville?”
“It’s grown since you’ve been away. Did you think it would stay the same?”
She shook her head. “Nothing stays the same.” She’d learned that at a young age. Sadly enough, so had Lara—it was time for Abby to put down roots for the two of them. To give her daughter a home they would live in for more than a year or two. Time to establish permanent headquarters for the temporary employment agency Abby owned. Abby had already given up her apartment in Chicago. She’d been so busy packing that she couldn’t fly in sooner. Now she just had to decide on where she and her daughter would settle.
It was only the two of them. The moment Abby had gotten pregnant Lara’s father had wanted nothing to do with either of them. Almost five years later, the hurt had faded, but she couldn’t fathom how she’d been so wrong about him. She’d thought he’d been such a nice, responsible guy, but maybe it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t love her. Her own parents hadn’t.
Clayton turned the SUV onto Main Street, where nothing had changed. Mrs. Hild’s Cape Cod still crowded the corner lot, her prize roses climbing over the carved wooden sign denoting the Cloverville city limits. In the middle of the block was Mr. Carpenter’s hardware store, the windows ablaze with the reflection of the setting sun. They also passed the McClintock Insurance Agency, the same gold logo on the front door as the one embroidered on Clayton’s shirt. The three-story redbrick building that housed the agency was one of the biggest on the block, taller and wider than the diner and pharmacy flanking it. A For Lease sign had been posted in the window of the first-floor office next to the insurance agency.
“Dr. Strover moved?” she asked.
“He retired,” Clayton said. “So I’m looking for a new tenant.”
Clayton’s dad had owned the building, and now it was Clayton’s responsibility—like so many others he’d taken on at twenty-two years of age. The same age Abby had been