Do You Take This Daddy?

The driver unloaded Noah’s suitcase from the trunk, and happily accepted the crush of bills he gave him for a tip. It was probably too much, but he was in no shape to do the math, and it wasn’t like money was an issue.

No, his issues were far more complicated.

The most pressing being the way the ground kept shifting under his feet. Clutching his bag, he tried to navigate the wide, whitewashed stairs leading to the front door.

Tried, and failed.

Two steps up, and he was on his butt. At least, with all the liquid courage he’d imbibed, it didn’t hurt. In fact, everything felt a bit numb. Maybe he should just stay put until he sobered up a bit. He’d planned on relaxing and might as well start now.

“Hey, are you all right down there?”

He looked around. No one. Man, was he starting to hallucinate?

“Do you need some help?”

This time, he managed to focus his not-so-steady vision in the direction of the voice. Up on the porch, sitting on a cushioned bench, was the most amazing woman he’d ever seen. She had short, close-cropped brown hair framing an elfin face. Her large brown eyes were too big for the rest of her, and were currently zeroed in on him, and his not-so-stable perch on the steps.

“You’re gorgeous.” Oops. He was pretty sure he just said that out loud.

Her laugh confirmed that yes, he had. Stupid alcohol.

“Are you drunk?” She stood up and started down the stairs towards him. Her legs were long and lean, sprinkled with the same freckles that dotted her nose. She stopped beside him, and he nearly toppled over trying to look directly up at her.

“Could you not be so tall?” he asked, politely, he thought.

“Sure.” She chuckled again and sat down on the steps next to him. “You are drunk, aren’t you?”

“I guess so.” He might as well admit it. “See, the thing is, I don’t drink.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Right.”

“I mean, I don’t normally drink. But today I did. A lot, I think.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a safe guess.” She smirked. “Well, you’ll sober up, I imagine, but you can’t do it here. Jillian sent me to keep an eye out for some guests who booked the honeymoon suite, so she could give them a special welcome. And I don’t think a drunk guy collapsed on the steps is quite the welcome she had in mind.”

“No worries,” he reassured her. “That’s me. I’m the couple you’re looking for.” He stuck out a hand for her to shake. She took it, eyeing him curiously. “Noah James.”

“Mollie Post, nice to meet you.” She looked past him onto the path below. “But where’s your wife? Is she taking a walk on the beach or something?”

“She’s not coming.” The buzz must be wearing off, because that sounded pathetic even to him.

“What do you mean, she’s not coming? You can’t have a honeymoon without the bride.”

She probably thought he was confused because of the whole drunk thing. But on this particular point he was perfectly clear. “Then call this a first. No bride. No wedding, for that matter. She took off before the rehearsal dinner.” The pleasant numbness from earlier was replaced by a pounding in his head.

Her mouth dropped open. “Wow, that sucks.”

Her frank acknowledgment did more than all the softly worded platitudes he’d heard in the past week. “Yeah, it does suck. But I figured it could suck back home, where everyone kept asking me if I was okay every two minutes. Or it could suck here, on the beach, with a margarita in my hand.” His stomach lurched. “Although, I think I’ll skip the margaritas.”

* * *

Mollie watched the newcomer with fascination. She didn’t care much for alcohol herself, but she wasn’t bothered by his blatant drunkenness. He seemed harmless enough, and Nic and Jillian were right inside. Besides, he looked like he needed a friend. So she sat on the sun warmed steps with him, watching a flock of white ibises pick their way across the lawn.

He was certainly nice enough to look at, a long, lean body and slightly curly brown hair that was just a shade too long. His face was almost beautiful, with high cheekbones. But it was his eyes that really got to her, dark and hooded; they were the kind of eyes that saw things other people didn’t. The eyes of an old soul, her Granny would have said. She wondered what his story was.

“You’re staring.”

“So? You’re interesting to look at.”

He blinked, and then let out a hoot of laughter. “Do you always say just what you’re thinking?”

“Pretty much. I’m told I have no filter.” She shrugged. “I tried, for a while, to learn to say the right things. But it never really stuck.”

“I’m glad it didn’t. Not many people are willing, or able, to be that honest. It’s a good thing.”

“Most people don’t think so. My fifth grade catechism teacher found it particularly upsetting.” She winked conspiratorially. “She smelled funny.”

He winced. “You told her that?”

“I thought she’d want to know. Turns out, not so much. People are funny that way. Most of the time, they don’t want the truth.”

“Yeah, well sometimes the truth is painful.” He stretched, sprawling his lanky legs in front of him.

“Oops. Sorry. Yeah, I guess you’ve had your share of truth for the time being, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“So tell me.” She stood up. “We can get some dinner, get you some water to flush out the booze, and you can tell me how you ended up on your non-honeymoon.” Gossip usually wasn’t her thing, but he looked like he could use someone to talk to. And she never had been able to turn her back on a stray.

His boyish grin was a startling contrast to his soulful eyes. “Did you just ask me out on a date?”

She hadn’t, had she? “No, I don’t date. But I’m hungry, you need to eat something to soak up the rest of the alcohol and I want to hear your story. New friends having dinner, not a date.”

“You don’t date at all?” He squinted at her, as if he expected to see some kind of physical sign to explain her celibacy.

“It’s a long story, and I’m starving. Ask me again later.”

“Shouldn’t I get checked in first?”

“That depends. Can you make it up the steps yet?”

He looked up and shook his head. “Good point. Dinner it is. Where’s your car?”

She wasn’t one to let common sense interfere with an adventure, but even she had limits. “No car—we’re going to walk. There’s a place just down the beach path.” A popular place for an evening stroll, with plenty of people around just in case her instincts about him were wrong.

“Afraid to be alone with me?”

Caution was part of it. Her parents might think she was naive, but she knew not to get into a car with someone she’d just met, even if she was the one driving. But there was another, more pressing reason.