Last-Minute Marriage

“Oh, damn,” she muttered under her breath.

She glanced past his concerned face. It was fully dark now, the kind of darkness a rainy night produced. She had no idea what time it was. She couldn’t see her watch, and the clock on the dash didn’t light up unless the engine was running.

She’d bought a cheese sandwich and a bottle of water at a place called the Sunnyside Café and brought them to the park. The storm clouds had rolled in while she ate. She’d watched the patterns the raindrops made on the river, watched the mist rise from its surface to writhe among the tree branches and creep forward to swathe her car. She’d only meant to rest her eyes, but instead, she’d fallen asleep. For a cowardly moment she thought of turning on the engine and driving away as fast as she could without saying another word to the man standing in the rain outside the car.

But she wouldn’t take the easy way out. She wasn’t that much of a coward. She lowered the window.

“Hi,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She wasn’t really, of course. She was twenty dollars poorer than she’d been when she encountered him the first time. She wasn’t one foot closer to her destination. She’d lost four hours of driving time. It was dark and raining and getting foggy, and would continue to be that way for the next hundred miles or so, according to the weather forecaster on the local radio station. She was tired and discouraged, and she had to go to the bathroom. The last problem, a natural consequence of drinking an entire half-liter bottle of spring water and being seven months pregnant, loomed largest at the moment.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” He dropped onto his haunches in that infuriatingly graceful way men had, laid his arms along the open window and brought his face level with hers.

“I was a little sleepy, so I took a nap.”

“Is your bed at the hotel that lumpy?” She couldn’t see his smile but guessed it was there.

She was too uncomfortable and too embarrassed to be polite or equivocal. “I didn’t take a room at the hotel, after all. Thank you for being concerned about my welfare, but please don’t bother yourself anymore. I’m leaving town right now.”

“You’re not planning on driving in this weather.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Tessa guessed the smile on his face had disappeared along with the one in his voice.

“I’ll be careful.”

“Careful might not be good enough.”

“Look. I don’t want to argue with you. You’ve been very kind and helpful today, but I really have to be on my way. My sister’s expecting me.”

“Not tonight, she isn’t.” His voice had taken on a hard edge, one she so far hadn’t heard before. He reached inside the open window, unlocked the door and got inside.

Her car wasn’t very big to begin with. Now it seemed even smaller with Mitch Sterling sitting beside her. Tessa forced herself not to shrink away. “Get out of my car.” She wasn’t afraid of him. Not really. But no woman with any sense let a strange man into her car. Even one who rode to her rescue in a police cruiser and came out in the rain to check on her.

“I will when you answer my questions.” He folded his arms across his chest. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweats, wet from the rain, and the play of muscles in his arms and across his chest was just visible in the dim light.

“Look. What I’m doing here is none of your business.”

“Maybe it isn’t, but Ethan Staver or another of Riverbend’s finest will be by any time, and they’ll make it their business.”

Tessa had no illusions at all that the grim-faced chief of police would even think twice about hauling her off to jail on a vagrancy charge. “Don’t threaten me.” She grabbed the door handle to get out of the car. But everything she owned in the world would still be inside with him, so she stayed put.

“I’m just trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing sleeping in your car when you could have a perfectly good hotel room.” He turned to lean against the door, and his face fell into even deeper shadow. Her face, she suspected, was perfectly visible to him.

She didn’t want to tell him she couldn’t afford a room at the hotel, but her bladder was screaming for attention. Suddenly she didn’t care if he knew the truth about her circumstances or not. “I can’t afford it,” she said bluntly. “I have less than two hundred dollars to my name. I’ve been driving all night and sleeping during the day in my car for almost a week now. I’m probably as close to a homeless person as you ever see here in Our Town, Indiana. There, are you satisfied? Now that you know all the details of my sordid little story, will you please get out of my car?”

“No.”

She laid her head on the steering wheel and fought tears of embarrassment and fatigue and discomfort. “Go away. Please. There’s nothing you can do. I have to find a bathroom, and then I’m leaving this place as fast as I can.”

“What?” He sounded bewildered and alarmed, no longer threatening.

“You heard me. I have to go to the bathroom. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice I’m pregnant. A lot pregnant. And pregnant women have to pee all the time.” She didn’t care how inelegant she sounded. She was desperate to be away from him. She sniffed, swallowing another lump of tears and looked around for the box of tissues she always kept on the seat. It was wedged half-under his thigh, the hard muscles covered only with a thin layer of cotton. She wouldn’t have reached for the tissues if her life had depended on it.

“Hell,” he said softly, not touching her with anything but the raspy warmth of his voice. He ran his hand through his hair, dislodging raindrops, which splashed on his broad shoulders. His hair was thick, she’d noticed earlier. Not too long or too short, and the same rich brown as his eyes. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, you did,” she said defiantly. “Hand me my tissues, please.”

“What?”

“You’re sitting on my tissues.”

“Oh, sorry.” He looked where she was pointing and handed her the box.

“Thank you.” She took one and blew her nose.

“I’m not usually in the habit of bullying pregnant women.”

“Well, you’re doing a damned good job of it.” She took another tissue and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

“My parents died in a car accident on a night like this,” he said quietly.

Now it was Tessa’s turn to feel like a jerk. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” That explained a lot about his actions of the past few minutes.

“That’s why I’m not going to let you drive out of town tonight.”

Lord, but the man had a one-track mind. “Thank you for your concern, but—” She never got a chance to finish the sentence.

“I know a place you can stay for nothing.”

“I won’t—” She wasn’t reduced to the level of a women’s shelter yet. And she found it hard to believe there was such a place in a town this size.

“Yes, you will. There’s a dead bolt on the door. And a bathroom.” She could hear the smile return to his voice. “And it’s only a thirty-second drive from here. So you can, um, take care of that other need you have.”

“I can’t go home with you.”

“It’s not my home. It’s my boathouse. Come on. I meant what I said. I’m not letting you leave town tonight. You can come with me or you can spend the night in the Riverbend courthouse jail. It’s not nearly as nice as the boathouse.”

“I’ve never set foot in a jail in my life,” she said indignantly. The state of her bladder wasn’t going to allow her to continue this argument much longer. She opened her mouth to give it one last try, then closed it again.

He let the silence stretch out for a few seconds. “Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll get you the key and in less than five minutes you’ll be…” Mitch hesitated, and she could have sworn she saw his face darken in a blush, but of course, it was too dark to see any such thing. “Cozy as a bug in a rug,” he finished lamely.

Tessa sighed and turned the key in the ignition. The prospect of a clean bed and a chance to shower and wash her hair was irresistible. She would figure out some way to repay him later. But right now it looked as if she was going to spend the night in Riverbend whether she wanted to or not.

“DAD! WAKE UP!”

Mitch’s eyes shot open. Sam was standing a foot from his head. “Not so loud, tiger.” He made a tamping-down motion with his hand.

“Sorry, Dad.” Sam tried hard to keep his voice at a conversational level, the way he’d been taught by his therapists. But it wasn’t always an easy thing to do.

“What’s up?” Mitch signed, stifling a big yawn.