Marrying The Wedding Crasher

“Not for anything less than the price of my firstborn.”

She was as boxed in as he was.

A part of Vince was intrigued, the way he was always captivated by things not working how they should. The saw wouldn’t be easy to fix. No telling what kind of damage was inside until he took off the outer casing.

Another part of Vince was reminded that he enjoyed Harley’s company, their quick banter, their obvious chemistry. The bargain wasn’t completely out of the question.

He ran a hand through his hair, wondering what their relationship would be like today if they’d never talked about higher education and college degrees.

“Well,” he said gruffly, “we can’t have you selling off your firstborn.”

Harley’s cheeks pinkened from more than the sun and she looked away. “I’d need the saw before we leave on Saturday.”

“That might be a stretch.” It was Tuesday. “What if I need to order parts?”

She considered this with the same deliberation with which she ordered from a menu. “Could they arrive while we’re gone, so you could fix it first thing when we return?”

Again, the feeling that he shouldn’t take her to Joe’s wedding gripped him. Vince fiddled with the screw on the auger motor hood, not looking at her. “Can you really afford to miss a week of work?” That seemed unlikely given she couldn’t afford to repair or replace her saw.

“Jerry owes me a couple days off and I’ve lined up some side jobs.” She’d put thought into this. She hadn’t asked him on a whim.

Unless he had a good reason to retract his offer, he felt honor-bound to take her.

Vince held out his hand for her to shake because he had to keep this on a platonic footing. “I’m paying for transportation, the hotel and food.”

“Okay, but...” Harley hesitated, offering a question in those blue eyes, not a handshake. “Why do you want a wedding date?”

He returned his hand to the auger, unwilling to tell her the truth and latching on to the first idea that came to mind. “There’s this girl, Sarah, from high school—”

“And you broke her heart.” Harley tsked.

He let her assumption stand. “Having a beautiful woman on my arm will keep my visit simple.” On so many levels.

Harley leaned back and surveyed him as if he was a blouse she was considering from the bargain rack. “And you’ll fix my saw?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Fair enough.” Harley stood and sealed the deal with a businesslike handshake.

Her going complicated things for him.

He just knew it. So it made no sense that he felt like smiling.

CHAPTER THREE (#u997cc1ae-8b72-5849-a261-c339932b624b)

VINCE BOUGHT HARLEY a plane ticket.

He packed a bag that included a dark blue suit, matching socks and tie, dress shoes, and an overly starched white shirt.

He took apart Harley’s tile saw.

Like his head, it was a mess. Bushings. Armature. Casing. All ruined. He spent a lot of time searching online for parts and thinking about the week ahead.

But a little voice kept whispering that this trip was as disastrous as Harley’s tile saw. He didn’t just want her to sell the idea that they were dating. He wanted her to sell the idea that they’d been dating for months. And that would require more than a businesslike handshake. That would require more fence-mending between them. That would require answers to questions she hadn’t asked and hadn’t thought of; ones he didn’t want to deal with.

Intending to get her on board with his plan before they left, Vince picked Harley up at her apartment complex on the east side of Houston. She was waiting out front in a yellow tank top and blue jeans, a small duffel bag and a backpack at her feet. Her hair was in its usual long, blond braid and her blue eyes were covered by sunglasses.

She hopped into the truck with a simple, “Hi,” setting her things on the floorboard and making herself comfortable.

He’d expected at least one suitcase, if not two. And maybe a dress or something a bit more feminine for the trip. It was her day off. Usually on her day off or nights out when she had time to change, Harley wore bright colors, interesting patterns, and often skirts and flouncy dresses. They were on their way to a wedding. It was early, but it was already nearly eighty degrees outside and with the humidity, it felt hotter. Why were her legs covered up? And why was she acting as if they were going to a job site?

“Is there a problem?” Harley asked when he didn’t immediately drive away.

“I was thinking how weird this is.” And he didn’t mean his thoughts dwelling on her legs.

“I don’t have to go.” Her voice was very small and very un-Harley like.

It tugged at him, that voice. She didn’t want to go and he didn’t want to take her. He should offer to buy her a saw and leave her in Houston. He drew a deep breath. “I should have told you I asked you to go to this thing because of my family, who are—”

“Nuts,” she finished for him, shrugging.

Vince’s jaw dropped. An image of his dad leapt to mind.

“Isn’t that what everyone says?” Harley shrugged again and turned her gaze toward the Houston skyline, visible through the smoggy haze.

“I suppose.” Although he never said it. Not even in jest.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.” She said the words forcefully, as if trying to convince herself.

Vince let the truck idle, his plan stuck in neutral. He felt obligated to let her know what she was walking into. “Before we go, I need to tell you something.”

“If you want to get back together, I’m going to stay here.” She drew herself up and glared at him.

There. That was more like the Harley he knew.

“You’ve been friend-zoned,” she continued. “I don’t think about you that way anymore.”

Ouch. He hadn’t expected that statement to sting. Not even if it was a good thing. “I’m not looking for a commitment with you or anyone else.”

Down the block, a motorcycle accelerated, winding through the gears quickly, as if there was fun to be had ahead.

Vince held on to the truck’s steering wheel with both hands. He hadn’t ridden a bike in ages. “In fact, I’m not the marrying kind.”

His brother Joe was the Messina intent upon promising “till death do we part.”

“Interesting.” Harley crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze cutting from Vince to the skyline once more. “Are we going to the airport or not?”

The motorcycle revved, calling all listeners to the freedom of the open road.