Page 5 of Marrying Chrissy

“So you’ll do it?” He ran his fingers through his hair. Hair that magically fell back into place despite the humid air and the gentle breeze. He slid his hands into the pockets of his black slacks.

For the first time, Chrissy noted how fancy his button-down shirt was. Where did he work? She looked into his green eyes and the hope shining there.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“This is great!” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “What’s your number? I’ll text you mine, and that way we can stay in touch between now and then. The party is casual, so don’t feel like you need to dress up. Do you know where the country club is?”

“Yes, I do.” There was no need to mention that Chrissy had driven by many times but had never actually stepped a toenail inside. She couldn’t afford the membership if she’d wanted one. Against her better judgment, Chrissy gave him her cell phone number. Moments later, her own phone pinged. She glanced at the screen and the number along with the words, “Wyatt Tabor.” She’d be sure to add him to her contact list once she got home. “Okay, it came through.”

“Seriously, thank you. You’re saving me, and if we can keep this between the two of us, I’d appreciate it.”

He gave her a smile then, one that lit up his eyes and brought out a subtle dimple in his right cheek. As if he weren’t already attractive enough. Unable to come up with the words anyway, Chrissy made a motion to lock her lips and throw the invisible key over her shoulder.

What she really needed to do was go home and see how Emma’s interview went. “I’d better get going. I guess I’ll see you at some point this week?”

“Absolutely. Have a good evening, Chrissy.”

“Yeah, you, too.” They waved at each other as though they’d just stopped to visit about the weather and went their separate ways.

This was, without a doubt, one of the strangest days Chrissy had ever had.

By the time she got home, she was starving, a little grumpy from dealing with the hot weather, and more than ready to kick her tennis shoes off and watch some TV. Emma’s car was already in the driveway, meaning Chrissy was the last to get home.

She unlocked the front door, stepped inside, and released a happy sigh as cool air enveloped her. Chrissy dropped her bag and keys on the nearby table and left her shoes on the floor nearby. The scents of spaghetti and garlic bread drew her to the kitchen.

Mom was draining noodles in the sink while Emma pulled a pan of garlic bread out of the oven. They both looked up and smiled at Chrissy.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” Mom said. “I was just about to call and make sure everything was okay.”

“I’m sorry I was late. I got held up on my way out the door.” She noted Emma’s casual clothes. “How’d the interview go?”

Emma shrugged. “Who can tell? I didn’t completely blow it, but I don’t think I aced it either. I’m supposed to hear back on Monday. I guess they have a number of other interviews scheduled this week.”

Chrissy exchanged a look with Mom, who gave her a firm glare instructing her to stay quiet.

“Well, I’ll be praying.” Praying that God would see fit to do whatever was necessary to keep Emma healthy.

“Thanks. What about you? How was your day?” Emma placed the garlic toast on a plate and carried it over to the little round table in the middle of their tiny dining area.

Chrissy used pot holders to transport the sauce followed by Mom and the noodles. “Oh, you know. I made some coffee. Served some scones.”Accepted five hundred dollars to go on a date with a guy I barely know.“It was a Monday.”

They sat down, Mom said a prayer for their food, and they began to dish it out. Once everyone had what they needed, Mom twirled some spaghetti around her fork but didn’t take the bite. “Well, it was pretty crazy at the bank today. We had a customer get so upset that the security guards had to escort him from the building.”

“What?!” Chrissy quickly finished her mouthful of food. “Was he your customer?”

“Thankfully, no. But I worry about him coming back. You always hear about angry customers returning to a business to seek revenge.” Mom chewed on her lower lip. The spaghetti noodles on her fork unwound themselves and flopped back onto her plate.

“I doubt you have to worry about that, Mom,” Emma reassured her. “I think that mostly happens on TV. I’m sure the security guard got it taken care of, and hopefully you’ll never see the guy again.”

As Mom and Emma tried to remember which television show they’d seen lately that closely resembled Mom’s day, Chrissy’s mind wandered back to her conversation with Wyatt.

Everything about him—from his fancy shirt to the expensive shoes he wore—spoke of money. Not to mention the fact he didn’t even flinch at offering half a grand to get her to go to the party with him. Here they were eating homemade spaghetti at a worn table in a crowded house. Where was Wyatt?

She pictured him in a mansion with a plate of caviar and crackers in front of him. Okay, maybe not caviar. Steak. The best cut cooked to perfection. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d eaten steak, a food that was a bit outside of their grocery budget.

There was no doubt she and Wyatt were nothing alike. The whole “opposites attract” idea flitted into her mind, and she mentally batted it away. That didn’t work in real life. She’d pose as his date at the party, and that would be it.

Suddenly, her mind began to wander as she contemplated different possibilities. Would he introduce her as his date or his girlfriend? Surely she wouldn’t be expected to show any kind of affection toward him outside of sitting with him.

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