Marrying The Wedding Crasher. Melinda Curtis

argued over her quitting architecture. “Why do you think they worry about you?”

      “They don’t worry. They have too much time on their hands,” he grumbled, slowing to make a left turn. “They give me grief about every little thing, so I make it a practice to tell them nothing.”

      “Giving grief is what brothers do,” she said smartly. “Take that away and they’re like dogs without a bone. Besides, maybe they should worry about you. I bet they didn’t travel halfway across the United States to find a woman and then not make contact with her.”

      “You want to talk about questionable decisions?” He raised his dark brows. “I’m not the one who got roughed up by a boyfriend who also broke her means of employment.”

      “If Dan hadn’t busted my saw, I wouldn’t be here helping you.” She needed to correct Vince’s assumption about Dan being her boyfriend. “And he—”

      “Helping me?” Vince grumbled louder. “That would require kisses.”

      She bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll kiss your cheek when you fix my saw.”

      “Lot of good a chaste peck on the cheek will do me when we’re back in Texas.” He’d turned on a side road and slowed to a crawl. “I ordered the parts. It’s a delicate piece of equipment and I might not be able to resuscitate it.”

      They approached a dead-end street to the right. A sign with an arrow pointed toward the Messina Family Garage, which was a two-story, two service-bay building several hundred feet down the road. It looked to have been built in the fifties: straight lines, no gables, a box turned upside down. Behind it was a small, equally boring ranch home.

      Across the road from the repair shop was a field with about a dozen cars half hidden by tall grass. A handful of people were poking around. Beyond that was a mowed strip of grass near a bridge. On it sat an odd cluster of things. A Volkswagen made of stacked stone, a rusted swing set and an old yellow tractor with what appeared to be a mermaid made of metal riding a bicycle behind it.

      A woman in the field waved to them.

      “Is that your family?”

      “Yes.” The SUV inched forward as if Vince was having second thoughts. “I could loan you money for the saw in exchange for a well-timed kiss or two.”

      “You?” A shout of laughter escaped her lips. “Loan me money?”

      “What’s so funny?” He braked and faced her, scowling.

      “You’re cheap.”

      “How can you say that?” His black eyes flashed and he choked the steering wheel. “I took you to Waco. I’m taking you to California. All expenses paid.”

      “You’re cheap.” She’d known he was nice, but she hadn’t realized his ego could be so easily bruised. She couldn’t stop smiling. “The first time we went out, we went to a bar and left when happy hour was over.”

      “We went after work.” His expression darkened, brows dropping thunderously low. “And first dates aren’t supposed to last more than a few hours.”

      “You never brought me flowers. I thought guys your age always brought flowers and wine when a woman cooked for them.” She wasn’t pulling any punches in defense of her No Kissing policy. “And we went places like the art gallery on free entry day and the farmers market, also free. Plus, in Waco, we stayed in one of those budget motels out by the highway.”

      “That was the only hotel that had rooms available!” He was practically howling with anger. “And sue me for wanting to go places where we could talk. Maybe that’s more important to someone my age than paying to have someone sit next to me during a movie without learning anything about them.”

      “I’m not saying I didn’t like going places and talking to you.” Her smile threatened to slip, because apparently she’d been yakking about herself the entire time they were together without paying attention to him. “I’m just saying—”

      “And I decided not to buy you flowers the one time I came to your place for dinner because there was an accident on the interstate and I was running late!” He huffed like a winded bull unsure if he was done seeing red.

      She reached over and pressed a hand to his arm, as if to say she understood. They hadn’t exchanged enough words between them in the past, at least, not about his past or a vision of his future. “I see where you’re coming from now. Thank you for offering to buy me a saw, but I can’t accept.” She’d get through this rough patch, even if it took her four years of tile work to do so.

      All eyes in the field were pointed their way. Thankfully, with the windows rolled up and the air conditioner on, his family probably hadn’t heard a word of their conversation.

      Vince sighed. “I could turn around and put you on a plane home.”

      “I’d be willing to bet when we get to the airport you’d hop on the plane with me.” Whatever was bothering Vince about coming home, he needed to face it, just as she needed to continue to try to solve the balcony conundrum.

      “You picked a bad time to be right.” Vince parked in a space at the garage. Three tables and several chairs were set up, as if there’d been a lot of outdoor eating going on. “Since you’re a city girl, be prepared for questions about you and about us, and not just from my family.”

      She’d forgotten she was touching him. Her hand dropped away. “If not your family, then who?”

      “Only the entire town.” He gave her a stern look. “And don’t go telling them I’m cheap.”

      “You’re such a girl, Messina.” It needed to be said.

      “You won’t think it’s so funny when reality hits.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the field. “They’ll want to know everything about you... About us.”

      “I’ll stick to the truth as much as possible.” What was he so worried about? Impulsively she stroked his thick, silky hair from crown to neck, the way she used to when they’d been dating. “It’ll be okay.”

      He didn’t look so sure.

      “Let’s have a code word,” she said, still feeling protective. “You know, if things start to get out of control, let’s say something like ‘It’s getting hot in here.’ And that’s our cue to make our excuses and leave.”

      “Good idea.”

      Someone in the field shouted his name.

      Harley twisted around. “What are they doing over there?”

      “Hauling junkers away, preparing the space for the ceremony. They’ll expect us to help.”

      “It’s getting hot in here.”

      Vince laughed.

      She’d missed his laughter. It was deep and hearty and settled stray butterflies.

      “Here they come.” Vince got out of the SUV, as somber and stoic as if they were going to face a zombie apocalypse.

      Harley smiled. For the first time since agreeing to be Vince’s date, Harley thought she might actually have fun at this wedding.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      THE CLOSER VINCE had come to Harmony Valley, the more he’d wanted to turn around.

      Harley’s joking banter had helped, but she couldn’t keep him from falling into the past, not when he stood on the property he’d grown up on.

      He’d learned to ride a bike on that driveway, with Mom running beside him. He’d learned to throw a football in that field, with Mom cheering him from the sidelines. And then there’d been the milestones she’d missed. His driver’s