too. But Clayton didn’t need any more responsibilities.
Roused by the babble of voices, Lara opened her eyes, blinking her long, thick lashes before gazing blearily up at Clayton. He tensed, expecting a fearful outburst of tears. After all, he was a stranger, and the little girl had been shy back at the airport. But her rosebud lips formed themselves into a smile, and she settled against his shoulder with a contented sigh. His heart clenched, as if someone had just wrapped a small hand around it.
“If Mom gets a load of you like that, you’re in trouble,” Colleen teased, her brown eyes alight with mischief as she stepped back from the huddle around Abby and stared at him.
“For what?” Abby asked, her brow puckered in confusion as her attention shifted back to Clayton and her daughter.
“For hogging her baby,” Molly said, reaching out to run her fingers gently over Lara’s head. “Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured.
Colleen’s mouth lifted in a wide smile. “Mom’s been nagging Clayton for grandchildren. If she sees him looking so natural with a child in his arms…”
“I like kids,” Clayton assured the women and the little girl who stared up at him again, her blue eyes wide with interest in the conversation. “Other people’s kids.”
“You obviously haven’t met Josh’s twins yet,” Colleen murmured with a weary sigh.
“They’re good boys,” Brenna said, the redhead jumping to the defense of the groom’s children while Molly remained silent, her face pale and unreadable.
Was Abby right? Had Molly accepted this proposal too soon? Clayton needed to get his sister alone for a serious conversation. Since she’d come home from med school just two short weeks ago, he hadn’t had many opportunities to talk to her. At the time he’d thought she was simply busy with wedding plans, but now he suspected Molly might have been avoiding him.
She turned, leading the way across the lawn and back toward the front porch. “We’ve been holding dinner for you,” she said over her shoulder as she climbed the wide steps.
“I’m sorry we missed the rehearsal,” Abby apologized to her friends. “I should have taken an earlier flight.”
“You couldn’t predict the delays at O’Hare,” Brenna insisted.
Abby laughed, the musical tinkle raising the hairs on Clayton’s arms. “This isn’t my first trip,” she said, refusing to relinquish responsibility. “I should have factored in the possibilities of technical difficulties.”
The old man had spoken the truth at the airport. Regret, over misjudging her, knotted Clayton’s stomach. She hadn’t caused problems on purpose. This time.
“Is the rest of the wedding party here?” Abby asked.
Molly shook her head, tumbling her brown curls around her shoulders. “Eric…left me a voice mail. He can’t come.”
“Tonight?” Abby sighed. “Well, I’ll get to talk to him tomorrow. We can catch up then.”
“He’s not coming tomorrow, either,” Molly said, her voice ragged with emotion.
“Is he okay?” Clayton asked, lost in the conversation as significant looks passed between the four women. He’d never had friends as close as they were. Their mastery of silent communication with mere glances had always frustrated him. He’d felt left out. Despite being only a few years older than most of them, he didn’t fit in. He’d never known how to have fun the way they did.
“Eric’s okay,” Brenna answered. “Can you fill in for him tomorrow and walk Abby down the aisle?”
Abby’s breath caught at the idea of walking down an aisle with Clayton. She shook her head, puzzled by the flash of panic she’d felt. She didn’t intend to marry anyone, ever, and risk a situation like the one her parents had known. “That isn’t necessary.”
She hoped there wouldn’t even be a wedding. From the tight expression leeching the color from Molly’s beautiful face, Abby knew she was right—that going through with this wedding would be the only mistake Molly McClintock had ever made. Not counting the tattoo, of course, but Abby had talked her into that. This mistake Abby needed to talk her out of.
“You can’t walk down the aisle by yourself, when everyone else will have a partner,” Brenna insisted. “It wouldn’t look right.”
Abby was used to not “looking” right. She reminded them, “Clayton has another, more important responsibility. He’s giving away the bride.”
Judging by the gleam in his dark eyes, she suspected he couldn’t wait to carry out that particular role. Maybe he thought Molly’s marriage would lessen the family pressure on him to reproduce.
Disappointment tugged at her heart. She’d thought Clayton one of the few selfless people she knew, but she shouldn’t be surprised that she’d misjudged a man. She’d done the same with Lara’s father, thinking him a man she could trust, and being proven wrong.
With a steady job and a serious demeanor, he’d reminded her of Clayton. Unlike the oldest McClintock sibling, Jeff had refused to take on any responsibility. He’d even refused to believe that Lara was his and that the contraceptive had failed. But Abby wasn’t like her mother. She didn’t sleep around, and she’d actually thought she’d loved him until he let her down—like everyone else. She didn’t know which of them was the bigger fool—Jeff for failing her and Lara, or Abby for trusting him in the first place.
“Clayton can walk down the aisle with you and give away the bride,” Mrs. McClintock said, as if she’d been listening all along, rather than jumping into the conversation as the group joined her in the kitchen of the Kelly house.
“So how was your trip, honey?” she asked Abby, setting down a bowl of salad and enveloping her in a hug.
Abby stretched her arms around Mrs. McClintock’s back, holding tight to the older woman’s softness and warmth. The mingled scents of vanilla and cinnamon clung to the woman’s shoulder-length brown hair. She probably dyed it now, as she had not even a strand of gray, and this woman had earned more gray hairs than anyone Abby knew. She’d survived the loss of her beloved husband and the raising of four headstrong children. Abby’s heart stretched with admiration and love for the woman she’d always wished had been her mother, too.
Nearly choked with emotion, Abby managed to say, “The flight was fine.”
And the flight, although late, had been fine. The ride to Cloverville, thanks to Clayton, had not. At least he’d answered the question she’d carried with her for the past eight years. He would never let her forget about the screwed-up girl she’d once been. In his eyes, at least, she would always be the legendary troublemaker from Cloverville.
Mrs. McClintock released Abby, to reach for Lara and take the drowsy child from Clayton’s arms. “Oh, she’s gotten so big since the last time I was in Chicago. She looks more and more like you every time I see her.”
Every time she saw her. Molly wasn’t the only family member Clayton intended to get alone for a conversation. Why had his mother never told him about Abby’s daughter?
More importantly, why did his arms feel so empty right now without Lara? He drew in a deep breath, catching a whiff of grilling beef through the open patio doors. Mr. Kelly was as renowned for his barbecuing as his baking, but Clayton’s hunger barely stirred. Abby Hamilton had been back in town for little more than an hour and already he’d lost his appetite.
He glanced over at her, grudgingly appreciative of how her curves filled out the white tank top and tight jeans. Her friends were all in casual dresses because of the rehearsal, but here she was, still dressed like a teenager. A damned sexy one, he had to acknowledge. Apparently he’d only lost his appetite for food.
But more than her body drew his interest. Her face softened with affection as she gazed at his mom and her daughter. Her expression of love touched something