Page 25 of The Marriage Deal (Sunset Falls #1)

DRIVE SAFE, YEAH?

LILAH

Idon’t feel like I know the man any better than I did. In fact, three days into living with him, and all I have is more questions.

Every morning is the same. I wake in bed alone and have coffee on the back deck while Senior does his business in the yard below and my fiancé rides his beautiful burnished red horse to the falls. I’ve given up on my book.

Briggs cooks breakfast every morning, and we share it over a second cup of coffee. Our conversations have been less revealing since our first morning, even though I’ve tried to probe.

“You’ll take the invitations to the post office today?”

We’d finished filling out the invitations last night.

I’d mentioned it would be easier to extend invitations via the internet, and he’d promptly explained that we were trying to win the respect of the people of Sunset Falls, not alienate them.

Because the majority of our invites were the town’s stuck-in-their-ways oldies, invitations via the web would have been counterproductive.

When he said it like that, I had to agree.

“I’ll drop them off when I head in for work.”

Briggs peers at me from under his brows as he pops the last of his omelet into his mouth. He chews, swallows, and swipes his plate as he stands. “Is it your intention to continue working for Sunrise Blooms?”

“I like my job.” I pull the heel of my foot onto the seat of my chair. Briggs’ eyes drop to my bare leg before he cuts his eyes to the sink.

“You’re going to be busy with your job here.”

“I’ve already spoken with Randy about cutting my hours some.”

Briggs steals another peek at me. “If you’re sure you’ll be able to handle it.”

“I like flowers.”

There’s a moment of silence. “You can always plant some flowers here. Or whatever you want.”

I already planned to do that. The empty pots outside are sad, and now that my debts are squared, I have a little money to play with.

I lift my coffee to my lips as Briggs slides his plate into the dishwasher. Then I look at the box of invitations on the counter. “You really have no one you want to invite to the wedding?”

“Just my mom and Nash’s family.”

I don’t look at him as I ask, “Have you told your mom about me?”

“I have.”

The view of the mountains outside really is beautiful. Distractingly beautiful.

Or that’s what I tell myself. Really, I just feel insecure when it comes to Briggs’ mother. It’s clear he loves her dearly. It’s even more clear that she would be disappointed beyond disappointment if she knew of our scheme.

When Briggs says nothing more, my eyes drift unwillingly to him. Butterflies take haphazard flight inside my stomach, threatening to rise into my throat.

I push, “And she’s just cool with you marrying some woman you only just met?”

He gives me his eyes. No, he slams those eyes into me. It’s a violent thing, even as it’s absent of touch. My heart riots in protest.

Hesitantly, he tells me, “She’s cautioned me against hasty acts.”

I feel my brows snap high on my forehead as my eyes grow wide. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Briggs…”

“She knows there’s little chance I’ll change my mind once I’ve made my mind up about something.” He folds his arms over his chest as he leans into the counter. “I’ve been very clear that I’ve made up my mind about you.”

“Oh.” I can’t ignore the heat that spreads inside me like wildfire at both the muscles that ripple under the skin of his crossed arms, and the fact he sounds so certain about me. About what we’re doing.

Also, there’s the way he looks at me.

Senior must sense my insides are going haywire, because he bumps his wet nose against my bare leg. I drop my gaze to him, giving him a pet on his head as I coo, “Hey, boy.”

Briggs pulls in a big breath as he kicks off the counter. “I have a full day today. The surveyors will be out, and I’d like to be present.”

“Okay.” I stand with my plate, which still has half my omelet.

“Not hungry?”

My stomach is in too many knots to eat. I don’t tell him that, though. No way.

“Not really.”

Briggs holds out a hand for my plate. I give it to him with a curious frown and watch as even more knots twist my insides as the man lifts my fork and finishes off my omelet.

It’s ridiculous, but the act feels intimate and leaves me uncomfortably speechless.

When I find my words, I mutter, “I’m going to take a shower.”

Briggs’ eyes drop again to the little satin housecoat I’ve taken to wearing. It doesn’t do a whole lot to cover my pajamas, but it’s something.

I clear my throat but say nothing as I turn on my heel and head for my room. I need a cold shower STAT.

Thankfully the town employs someone to water the flowers.

I just mosey on by with my snippers and snip.

I finish the days deadheading in the same park where Briggs kissed me.

Senior is laying in the grass under the shade of a big Russian Olive tree, the silvery leaves shimmering in a gentle breeze.

He may be a dog, but there’s a smile on his face.

One of contentment and peace. His eyes are half-mast, and his paws are stretched out like he knows he’s finally safe. Finally home.

My heart feels big and achy and overly emotional as I take a moment to watch him. I’ll never leave him. No matter what happens or where I land, I’ll land somewhere that is safe for him.

Hooking my hand around the handle of my bucket of dead heads, I call, “Senior. Come here, boy.”

He doesn’t make me ask twice and we walk side by side to my car. I open the back door for Senior to jump in, and wince at the state of my backseat. Then, because I’m me, I close the door.

As I slide into the driver’s seat, I pull my phone from my pocket to see that I missed a message from Briggs.

Briggs: Did you get the invitations to the post office?

Me: Perhaps…

I’m about to toss my phone onto the passenger seat when it buzzes again.

Briggs: Lilah.

Me: Briggs.

I giggle, because I can just picture the man’s face right now.

My phone begins to buzz. On repeat.

The man is calling me. I giggle again and Senior shifts in the back seat to see what’s up. I swipe and say, “You’re calling me?”

“You’re being you, so yeah.”

“I’m being me?” I repeat. “What does that mean?”

“Lilah.”

I settle into my seat with an amused grin on my face, “Yes, soon-to-be husband?”

He sighs, long and heavy. I imagine he’s rubbing his fingers into his brow, giving his head a weary shake. “Did you get the invitations sent out?”

“Have no fear, the town will watch me saddle myself to you in exactly four weeks. Do you think it’s too soon? I mean, even I’d be questioning the why.”

“If people are focused on why we’re getting married so quickly, they’ll be less focused on the changes happening to Sunset Falls.”

I sigh. “I guess.”

“These are going to be good changes, Lilah.” Briggs must have heard the reservation in my voice because he adds, “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t believe that this is what Sunset Falls needs.

Location-wise, Sunset Falls is prime. It’s not so far from big city amenities to make it a hassle to attract newcomers.

But it is a hassle for the people who live here.

The lack of monetary flow in the town makes the movement of the funds that do exist here stagnant and unsustainable long-term, which is why the town is feeling the strain it’s feeling now. ”

I feel my voice soften. “Why are you doing this, Briggs?”

“I just explained it to you.”

“I mean—why are you doing it? What does it matter to you whether this town lives or dies, really?”

There’s a pause. “I’ve decided to make Sunset Falls my homebase. It wouldn’t do to have the town crumble around me, would it?”

“I suppose not.” Even as I say the words, something inside me wants to push him for more. Deep down, I know there’s more.

Someone calls his name in the background. His voice sounds muffled as he promises to ‘be right there’. Then his voice is louder when he returns to me. “I’ve got to go.”

“Okay.”

There’s another pause. Then he asks hesitantly, “When will you be home?”

Home. Goodness, the question feels so intimate. I can’t deny the warmth that expands in my stomach. Warmth that has no place seeking roots.

“I’m going to meet Nan and Dakota for a late lunch then I’ll head that way.”

Another pause. Then he says, “Drive safe, yeah?”

Again, with that warmth. But this time it travels from my stomach to touch at the space around my heart. I say softly, “Yeah.”

We disconnect and I back slowly out of the stall. Had Michael once asked me to drive safe? I rake my mind for the memory and came up blank.

Michael wasn’t the ‘drive safe’ or ‘let me cook breakfast for you’ type.

It’s sad how faking it with Briggs is bringing to light the mess of what I’d shared with Michael.

At first, he’d been sweet and charming. He’d opened doors with a smile that shone.

Literally. The man has a megawatt smile, and he’d made me feel like it was just for me.

I’d fallen for him hard. When I said I wanted to move back to Sunset Falls, he eagerly agreed small towns were the best. When I said I wanted kids and a house full of pets, he’d agreed to that, too. When I said family meant everything to me, he assured me family comes first.

I don’t know how I didn’t see it then. How he said all the right things but never truly acted the right way. He never went out of his way to put me first. He cancelled on plans more times than he showed.

And the little comments that settled like barbs in my heart. I could still feel them there, the pinches coming to me out of the blue.

I know he wasn’t a good person. I’m fully aware I was a con all along. And yet, for some reason the words he said stuck with me even now. Even when I know they shouldn’t.

“Are you really wearing that? You’re beautiful, but blue, babe…” or “It’s been a while since you’ve worked out, eh?” or “She’s so elegant and quiet, but you’re beautiful, too.”

I found myself obsessed with my appearance in a way I’d never been before. I worried about a number on a scale that I’d never worried about before. I compared myself to other women felt stung with jealousy, when I’d only ever appreciated women’s beauty for the unique and lovely package it appeared.

Now, when I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see the curves Mom taught me to love. I see the thick thighs with the faint stretch marks that I’d caught Michael frowning at in the car one day.

I used to be so confident. I used to believe my body was beautiful.

I’m getting back there, slowly. It’s a process.

But I won’t let him win. I won’t let the man who conned me continue dragging me down. Continue affecting me. Hurting me.

But it’s hard not to let something that burned so badly that you bear the scars not only on the whole of your person but on your mind, affect the life you live now. Hard, but not impossible. Dad says nothing is impossible, and I’m inclined to believe him.

And Nan says there’s magic here, woven into the very land that sustains us. Without the impossible being possible, there would be no magic. I’m inclined to believe her, too.

So, it’s with effort that I push my bastard ex from my mind just like I push his words from my mind when I look at my reflection in the mirror. Like I refuse to let him ruin a damn good outfit, I refuse to let him ruin lunch with family.

Screw him.