Page 22 of That Reilly Boy
He is serious. I should say something—or at least pull my hand away—but I’m frozen, staring into his eyes. Hayden Reilly actually believes the way to solve this problem is to marry me. And while there may have been a day the idea of him being my husband made me giddy, that day came and went a very long time ago.
I’m starting to wonder if he found an old treasure map and there’s an X marked on our basement or something. He really wants our house.
The server arrives with our lunch and Hayden has to let go of my hand so she can set the plates down. The loss of his touch and the presence of the server gives me a minute to shake off the sense I live in a snow globe that Hayden just gave a hearty shake.
Marriage.
To Hayden.
It’s going to take me more than a minute to wrap my head around this, but that’s all I get. After I assure our server I don’t need anything else without even checking I got the right food, she walks away and we’re alone again.
“I know it sounds out there,” he says, and I snort because that’s an understatement, “but it would be temporary. We get married. She sells the house to us and moves into something more manageable for her, and then we get divorced and I buy you out of the house.”
Even while that level of deception is making my stomach hurt, hope it could actually work flares up inside of me. I try to ignore it because me marrying Hayden isn’t going to happen. “I’m not comfortable manipulating my mother like that.”
“That’s too bad because she doesn’t seem to have any problem with manipulating you.”
I throw a stern look his way. “Rude.”
“But still true.”
I deliberately take a huge bite of my BLT so I have a reason not to talk for a few seconds. Somehow, he’s going to have an answer for whatever objection I offer, and I get the impression Hayden’s a man who’s accustomed to getting what he wants. And he wants our house.
The fact he’s keeping the focus on how the deal would benefit my life isn’t lost on me. It’s true, of course, but the man didn’t ride back into Sumac Falls to rescue a damsel in distress he ghosted almost two decades ago. He came back for the sole purpose of buying my parents’ home and, honestly, that still doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. Sure, it was a beautiful home once—a shining example of its style to showcase the Gamble wealth—but my gut says there’s more to it than a desire to restore it. I mean, he’s willing to get married to get his hands on it? That’s extreme.
“Tell me the real reason you want to buy our house,” I tell him.
Oh, now look who’s taking a big bite of his sandwich.
Hayden chews slowly. Swallows. Wipes his mouth with his napkin. Takes a long drink of coffee. Wipes his mouth again. He’s obviously trying to figure out what he wants to say, and I just wait, ignoring my food and watching him.
“That house has been almost as much a part of my family history as it’s been a part of yours,” he finally says. “For an entirely different reason, of course. For my great-great grandfather, it was a symbol of everything Jonas Gamble took from him. But I thought it was beautiful and it drove me to want more in my life. Now that I have more, seeing it slide into disrepair feels wrong to me, and I want it to be that beautiful house again.”
It’s a nice little speech, though I my gut tells me there’s still more. He’s holding something back, but a chime from my phone lets me know I have to be pulling out of the parking lot in a few minutes if I don’t want to be late for my afternoon appointment. I need to focus on the conversational highlights here.
Like the part where he said I should marry him.
“Hayden, there’s no way she’s going to accept any of this—and not only because of your last name. You roll into town and try to buy our house, which I’ve been urging her to consider selling, but she says no because it has to stay in the family. And then, out of the blue, you and I decide to get married? That’s such an obvious ruse, I’d be ashamed to even try it.”
“You might be surprised what people are willing to believe if it fills a deep subconscious need. I know Gin can be stubborn and I know I’m a Reilly, but I think she’d jump at the offer if it wasn’t for your dad. Us getting married allows her to keep that promise and get out of that house, and there’s a good chance she won’t think too much about it. She’ll want to believe us.”
I wince. “Doesn’t that make it worse, though? Lying to my mom is bad enough, but manipulating her emotional weaknesses feels like something a loving daughter wouldn’t even consider.”
“I know you have to go, but think about it, okay? And while you’re thinking about whether it’s right or wrong to manipulate an emotional weakness of hers, think about whether she offers you the same consideration or if she’s been manipulating your emotional weaknesses for years.”
“Ouch.” He’s not wrong, but I still can’t meet his eyes as I take a last sip of water. “I’ll think about it, but I still don’t think it will work and I’m the one who’ll have to live with the fallout—and the humiliation—for the rest of my life. This town never forgets.”
“Tell me about it.” He stands as I slide out of the booth, the uneaten portion of my BLT wrapped in my napkin. “I’ll get the bill, and I appreciate you driving out here to meet with me.”
“Thank you. And I’ll be in touch, though don’t get your hopes up.”
I manage to walk out of the diner without looking back. But as I’m getting into my car, I look up and I can see Hayden in the window. He’s definitely watching me, but I ignore him and hope he can’t see the instant flush in my cheeks.
But as I put my car in reverse, I can’t help looking again and this time we make eye contact. He smiles. I drive away without returning it.
Cara Gamble? You should marry me.
I confess I scribbled Cara Reilly and Mrs. Hayden Reilly on a notebook page when I should have been doing homework more than once, but that was a very long time ago. I’m a grown woman now, with very little imagination left.
