Page 79 of Christmas at Valentine Inn

I was beginning to wonder if Dad had something to worry about. Mom wasn’t even this giddy around her darling Drake.

Patrick opened my door and held out his hand to me, happy and smiling. He was the Patrick I met twenty years ago, but somehow better than I’d remembered, and sexier too. His turtleneck sweater under a long wool coat was such a turn-on. Throw in his strands of gray hair and I wanted to accost him.

I placed my hand in his and he helped me out, only to pull me up against him in the biting cold air that spoke of another round of snow coming. “Today we are one step closer.”

I loved the sound of that, but ... “Rory and Bridgette are really okay with this?”

“Yes. They know we aren’t rushing anything. They are quite fond of you.”

“The feeling is mutual.” I loved every second I got to spend with them. It was weird how much I missed them when they were at school. I waited for them every afternoon with a plate of not-skinny cookies. It was totally Mrs. Brady of me. Except for, instead of an Alice, I had a Paul who made them. I think I was looking forward to their holiday break as much as they were. I’d made all sorts of plans that included skiing, ice skating, and a rom-com marathon with Bridgette. Rory had promised to show me how to play Halo. After the craziness of the wedding and holiday, it might not be a bad stress reliever to shoot aliens.

“I love you.” He said those beautiful words anytime he could.

“I lo—”

“Well, look who showed up.” Dave appeared, seemingly out of nowhere again. That was so disconcerting. It made me feel like I was constantly under surveillance.

Patrick whipped his head toward the creep. “When will you get it through your thick skull that we are getting married? Give up this buffoonery and find a real job.”

I pressed my lips together before I laughed at Patrick’s use ofbuffoonery. I adored his proper way of telling people off. If it were me, I would probably use Rory’s way and flip him the bird.

Dave swallowed hard. “Just drop the act,” he practically begged. Why did he need Charlotte and Drake to get married?

“This is no act, buddy.” Mom snapped her fingers in a zigzag like she was the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

“Oh, look, the mother,” Dave sneered. How he knew that seriously disturbed me. “The wide-brimmed hat is so last year.”

Mom started to march at him.

Patrick ran and jumped in front of her, holding out his arms before he had to post bail money. “Excuse us.” He narrowed his eyes at Dave. “My fiancée and I need to obtain our marriage license.”

Dave tugged on his collar. “I know this is an elaborate scheme. I’ve talked to your friends; no one has received a wedding announcement.”

I planned to find out who these so-called friends were. The thought of him snooping around gave me the jitters. “Any friends talking to you are not our friends.”

“They just want a quiet wedding for the kids’ sake,” Mom threw in there.

“Yes, your children,” Dave said in an unsavory way.

Patrick clenched his fists and jaw. “Leave my children out of this, or find yourself a good lawyer.”

Dave spat out a mirthful laugh. “Are we a little touchy? Perhaps afraid of what I might find out about how your wife died? You’ve moved on awfully fast.”

Patrick’s face blazed.

I lunged forward and took Patrick’s hand, feeling sick to my stomach. I worried how low Dave would sink. He was obviously digging deep, and I knew enough to know you could take anyone’s lowest moment, even if it was innocent, and make it seem nefarious. “Don’t listen to him. He’s trying to make trouble where he knows there isn’t any.”

“If you say so,” Dave taunted.

“I know so.” I stood my ground. “Now move out of our way; we have an important appointment to get to.”

“So you say.” Dave’s eye twitched. He was obviously desperate for this not to be true.

The desperate part bothered me. Desperate people do unspeakable things sometimes.

I pushed my way past the vile man, pulling Patrick with me. I was not as genteel as the man I loved.

“Don’t mess with us, boy,” Mom snarled as she walked past Dave. “I know people.” She pointed at her eyes, then his. Bypeople, she meant a bunch of grandmas who drank tequila like it was five o’clock somewhere all day long. Not sure what they could do, unless they knew how to injure people with crochet hooks. I wouldn’t put it past them.

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