father.”
But did she love him? Hell, what did Clayton know about love? Only that it could hurt so much he didn’t intend to learn any more about it than he already knew. He’d seen his mother’s devastation when his father died, and he didn’t intend to risk that kind of pain himself. It was better to feel nothing, he was certain.
“So you’re sure…?” he asked his sister. “You’re doing what you want to do?”
Even as she nodded, more tears pooled in her eyes. Her voice broke when she answered, “Yes.”
Clayton pulled her into a hug. “I’m honored to be giving you away tomorrow, but I wish…”
It didn’t matter what he wished. Nothing could bring back his father.
“I know,” Molly said, pressing her lips to Clayton’s cheek before pulling from his arms. “Me, too. But you’ll do, big brother. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us. For paying for my college and med school.”
“I didn’t,” he protested. “It’s really Dad’s…”
“It’s your money,” she corrected. “You’re the one working your butt off at the office. He’s been gone eight years, Clayton. It’s your office. Your agency. Your money. I can’t believe you even insisted on paying for the wedding. Josh wanted to pay.”
“Dad would have wanted…” He suppressed the emotion that was threatening to choke him. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“And Clayton always does the right thing,” she teased him.
What about her? Did she really feel getting married tomorrow was the right thing? “Molly…”
She kissed his cheek again, and one of her tears dropped onto his neck. “Thank you.”
He reached out, but she turned and ran back into the house. Before he could follow her, a soft hand slid over his forearm, pulling him up short.
His pulse didn’t jump, so it couldn’t be her. Instead of Abby, his mother tugged on his arm. “Come to the buffet and get some food, Clayton, before your brother eats it all. The way that kid eats, he must have a tapeworm.”
“Mom, I should check on Molly.”
“She’s okay,” she insisted. “All brides get emotional.”
He hoped that was all it was and that nothing else was going on with his sister. Of all his siblings, he’d worried the least about Molly. She’d always been so focused, so determined to achieve her goals. Ever since their father died, she’d wanted to be a doctor. Getting married was a little detour from finishing med school and her residency, but he had no doubt she would still achieve her goals.
Unless…
Abby had referred to the ceremony as a shotgun wedding. Could Molly be pregnant? Did she have to get married? He wouldn’t have thought so. The groom had been so traditional that he’d even asked Clayton for Molly’s hand in marriage. But nowadays that really didn’t mean anything. He allowed himself a selfish moment of satisfaction. Maybe Mom would soon have more than enough grandchildren to keep her happy and off his back.
“How come no one told me about Lara?” he asked her. The question had been burning in his mind since the airport.
His mother smiled her softening-the-blow smile. He’d seen it often over the years. “You tend to be judgmental, honey.”
First Abby. Now his own mother. Stung, he clenched his jaw. “I am not judgmental of people.”
“Oh, not people,” she agreed. “Just Abby. That’s why she made us promise not to tell you.”
So Abby had wanted to keep her daughter secret from him. Why? He’d never considered the fact that she might care about what he thought of her.
“Speaking of Abby,” his mother continued, “you need to drop her back at the house. Instead of a bachelorette party, the girls are having one of their infamous sleepovers at our house. Then we’ll all leave together for the church in the morning.”
He winced at the memory of those adolescent sleepovers. They hadn’t bothered him much when they were all younger, except for the incessant giggling that had kept him awake half the night. But he’d really hated it when they’d had them years later, on his weekends home from college. Abby had run around the house in skimpy boy shorts and a tank top. His wince turned into a groan that he smothered with a cough.
“I’ll switch her bags to your car,” he offered.
She shook her head. “Nonsense. That’s too much trouble.”
For whom?
“And Rory needs to spend the night at your place.”
“The best man was supposed to use my spare bedroom.” Despite all the recent construction, Cloverville still had no hotels or motels.
“He’s coming straight to the church in the morning, and so the groom doesn’t see the bride before the wedding, Josh and the boys are staying here at the Kellys’. You have room for Rory tonight.”
Room, maybe, but he wasn’t so sure he had the patience, especially not after seeing Abby again. He’d have to stay awake all night to guard his liquor cabinet. Clayton focused his gaze on Mr. Kelly’s cooler, beside which his curly-haired teenage brother stood—probably about ready to snitch a beer. Clayton had caught him with a bottle a few weeks ago, in the park, well after his curfew. The boy was trying to grow up too fast and too recklessly. Fortunately, the old man who’d seen Rory and his friends while walking his dog had called Clayton instead of the sheriff or their mother. That time, too, he’d had to leave his date in order to rescue Rory from himself.
It wouldn’t matter if both Molly and Colleen got married. He’d still have too much on his hands with Rory to consider getting seriously involved with anyone. But he wouldn’t change his mind about a relationship even if Rory suddenly became a choirboy.
Abby sauntered up next to Rory, whose face flushed red. Clayton’s gaze followed his brother’s to her derriere, straining the worn seams of her jeans as she leaned over the cooler, drew out a can and handed it to the boy. A cola.
Amusement teased his lips into a grin. His mother patted his cheek. “It’s great to see you smile, Clayton. You’re always so serious. Too serious. You need something…” Her gaze followed his to the giggling blonde teasing his brother. “Or someone to lighten you up.”
It didn’t matter how many grandchildren Molly gave her, he wasn’t likely to get his mother off his back. Ever. Because he wasn’t going to get married and start a family with anyone. And most especially not with Abby Hamilton.
Chapter Three
“So are you my chauffeur for as long as I’m here?” Abby asked as Clayton pulled into his mother’s driveway behind Mrs. McClintock’s minivan. She’d beat them home, with Lara in the back in the built-in car seat. Abby had wanted to ride with them, but Mrs. McClintock had insisted there wasn’t room with Colleen, Molly and Rory, who’d had to come home to pack his bag for Clayton’s.
He lived in town in the apartment above the insurance agency. Abby couldn’t imagine willingly leaving this home. Her heart lifted at the sight of the Dutch colonial where she’d spent so much time in her younger days. Although she suspected Rory had long outgrown it, the tire still swung from the giant oak in the front yard. The house wasn’t as colorful or as big as the Kellys’ Victorian, but Abby preferred its white siding and black roof. To her, it represented all the stability she’d never had in her own family. This house was why she’d packed up her apartment in Chicago. She wanted to raise her daughter in a house just like this.
Too bad it was in Cloverville.
“Mrs. Hild’s roses and Mr. Carpenter’s storefront thank you for not driving.” He turned toward her, his eyes gleaming in the