Out of Town Bride

Slowly she realized she was no longer alone in the room. John-Michael stood in the doorway, looking adorably rumpled in gym shorts and an old T-shirt bearing the logo of Close Protection, Inc., where he’d gotten his bodyguard training.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He had this uncanny ability to know whenever she stirred at night. He always noticed when lights went on or if anyone made the slightest noise. She wondered if he ever slept or if he sat up all night, ever vigilant.

“I got hungry,” she answered. “I don’t think that’s any reason to call out the National Guard.” She immediately felt guilty for sniping at him, though. “Sorry. It’s been a rough few days. You want some macaroni and cheese?”

“Sure.” He went to the fridge and poured himself some milk. Without asking, he pulled out a bottle of her favorite cherry-flavored mineral water, uncapped it and set it out for her.

He knew her so well, probably better than her own mother did. And it irked her. She’d actually been looking forward to escaping his knowing eyes once she was married. Now that wasn’t going to happen. She saw herself in twenty years, thirty years, fifty, still single, still living in Muffy’s house, McPhee still watching over her with his eagle eyes. Still waiting for those few moments when he could escape her and go to whatever girlfriend he would undoubtedly have. He’d probably still be shadowing her every move when they were both in the nursing home. Gawd, what a depressing thought.

“I called the hospital,” she said. “Mother’s doing better. She drank some water and told the nurses not to call me.”

“Already back to her bossy self, huh?” But McPhee’s smile was of pure relief. She didn’t blame him. Muffy was a kind employer, if a tad inflexible. She paid her staff far more than the going rate to inspire their loyalty, and it worked.

But McPhee was genuinely fond of Muffy, too. As hard as Sonya was on McPhee, she knew he wasn’t completely self-serving.

When the microwave dinged, Sonya took out the dish and scooped generous portions onto white, bone-china plates with gold rims, the only kind Muffy would have in her house. She had a thing against plastic and thought stoneware was almost as bad. Sonya and McPhee sat at the kitchen table and ate with monogrammed sterling forks.

“Mmm, I love this stuff,” McPhee said.

“We better enjoy it while we can. I imagine we’ll see some changes around here when Muffy gets home. Matilda and Eric will have to prepare heart-healthy meals.”

“Matilda will screech like a banshee over that,” McPhee said.

“She’ll have to get used to it. I’ve been telling Mother for years that her diet is impossibly unhealthy. She’ll have to listen to me now.”

“Muffy never listens to anyone.”

Sonya sighed. “I know. She has her ideas about the way things should be, and nothing’s going to change them.” Certainly not Sonya, whose opinions Muffy had always considered superfluous. Muffy knew what was best, and that was that.

“Maybe if we join forces?” McPhee suggested. “Two against one.”

Sonya laughed harshly. “That would be a first. We haven’t agreed on anything since…well, since we were children.”

Since that night at the sorority party, she’d almost said. Sonya’s skin prickled at the memory, still vivid after all these years.

“I think if we present a united front,” McPhee said, “Muffy will have to pay attention.”

“Since when do you call her Muffy, anyway?”

He shrugged. “I don’t, not to her face. Just to you.”

“To irritate me.”

He didn’t deny it, just flashed that inscrutable half smile of his that drove her crazy. “Don’t worry, you’ll be rid of me soon. You haven’t officially postponed the wedding, have you?”

“No.” Another wave of guilt washed over her. But she could hardly announce she was going to call off the wedding when Muffy was still so ill. “Mother said to wait and see how she did after the surgery. Are you counting the days?”

“Only forty-nine days to go.”

She tried to hide her surprise. She’d only been kidding about counting the days. Was he that unhappy? He often aggravated her, but she wasn’t miserable with their arrangement. “Just what are you planning to do with your newfound freedom? I assume Muffy has another job for you.”

McPhee shook his head. “I’ve already applied and been accepted at the Harris County Sheriff’s Department.”

This was news to Sonya, and it shook her to the core. She had a hard time visualizing this house, this estate, without John-Michael as a constant fixture. “What about your dad?”

“Dad’s on the wagon.”

“Yes, but for how long?”

McPhee pushed his plate away without finishing, alerting Sonya to the fact that she’d ticked him off. He always cleaned his plate. “I’ve spent ten years as a virtual prisoner,” he said, “to my father, to Muffy and to you. That’s long enough. If my father does something crazy and gets himself fired, I’ll deal with it. But I’m not going to let the fear of that stop me from living. Not anymore.”

Sonya hadn’t heard much past the word “prisoner.” “If conditions are so wretched here, why didn’t you quit?” she challenged him.

“You don’t think I’ve tried? But your mother made it pretty clear. If I left, Jock had to go, too. I couldn’t do that to him. He has nowhere else to go.”

“How are things different now?”

“Your mother is being a bit more flexible, now that your future is secured and my dad’s behaving himself. I think he finally understands the consequences if he messes up again. Maybe he won’t this time.”

Sonya wanted to believe that Jock McPhee’s drinking days were over, but she found it difficult. She recalled all too well the sort of mayhem that ensued when Jock went on a bender. Once he’d driven the riding lawnmower right through the living room window and into the middle of one of Muffy’s tea parties. Another time he’d gotten a chainsaw and lopped off half of an ancient oak tree because he was tired of fishing its leaves out of the pool; he’d nearly chopped off one of his arms, as well.

Muffy should have fired Jock long ago, but she had such a soft heart she couldn’t do it. Besides, when Jock was sober, he was the best gardener in all of Houston and a very nice person. Sonya, as well, had always had a soft spot for Jock. He’d been especially kind to her when she was grieving over her father’s death.

So had McPhee. The teenage boy who’d had no use for a ten-year-old girl had suddenly stopped tormenting her. He’d started showing her small kindnesses, offering to drive her to visit friends if Tim was busy, playing volleyball with her in the pool.

That was when she’d first fallen in love with him.

Oh, hell, she didn’t want to think about that now. “Well, I wish you luck in your new career. And I’m sorry we’ve made your life so unpleasant.”

“No, you’re not,” he said with a little grin. “You did it on purpose. You’ve resented me watching your every move as much as I’ve resented having to play nursemaid to a spoiled debutante.”

Sonya laid down her fork. “Boy, you’re really taking the gloves off.”

“I feel a certain recklessness, knowing I’ll soon be free.”

“Now is not the time for me to find out you hate me,” she said. “I have enough to deal with.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You just think I’m spoiled.”

“Anyone who doesn’t have to work for a living is spoiled. It’s not your fault you were born with so much money.”

Sonya wanted to continue the argument. Unfortunately, she knew he was right. She’d never wanted for anything in her life, something she’d taken for granted. Did that make her spoiled?

Without a good comeback, she returned her attention to her macaroni and cheese, hoping he would go away.

He did. He rinsed his plate, put it in the dishwasher and left the kitchen without another word.