The Accidental Bride Read online

  Olivia reached over to grip her hand. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a smart man and a good soldier, too. He’s going to make it through this and come home safe and sound. I’m going to be dancing on the tables when it happens.”

  Caro summoned a smile. “I’m holding you to that. I can’t wait to see the elegant, always impeccably behaved Olivia Sullivan dancing half-drunk on a table.”

  “Who said anything about half-drunk?” Olivia muttered.

  And then the two women froze. Duffy rocketed down the stairs, barking loudly as a black SUV pulled into the driveway. The car had rental plates and the logo of a national chain. A man in jeans and a black sweater got out and stretched slowly, then rubbed his neck, studying the house.

  He was a tall man, lean and unsmiling. There was an intensity about him that Olivia could feel even at a distance. “Well, well. What have we here?”

  Caro crossed her arms tensely. “I’d say that’s Mr. Bigshot Hale himself. About time he showed up. Let’s go ask him some hard questions.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CARO GRABBED A BIG PORCH broom, and Olivia armed herself with a spackling gun.

  They burst onto the porch together, looking tough and very angry. For long moments they studied the lone man leaning against the SUV in the gathering darkness.

  “What do you want?” Olivia demanded roughly.

  The man didn’t seem surprised by her question. He just looked tired, Olivia thought. Tired and also very worried.

  “My name is Walker Hale. I’m here to see Jilly O’Hara.”

  “She’s not here.”

  The man frowned. “She isn’t? But her flight landed in Portland. I assumed that she came back here. She told me how much she loves Summer Island.”

  Olivia shook her head. “She drove back to Scottsdale. She left an hour ago.”

  “I wanted to speak with her. No, I need to speak with her.” He frowned at the dark sweep of the ocean. “She’s not answering her cell phone. I tried calling her all the way from Wyoming.”

  Olivia slid her spackle gun from one hip to the other. “What do you want to talk to her about?”

  He rubbed his right shoulder. “I hurt her. There were things that I should have told her.”

  Caro angled her broom against the side of the porch and crossed her arms. “What kind of things?”

  “Who I am. Who my family is. But more than that, I should have talked about our future. Because I want a future with Jilly. I want her in my life. We haven’t come close to working out the details, but I’m not going to let her walk away and pretend that nothing happened between us. She’ll try to do that. She’s strong enough and stubborn enough to succeed for a while, but it will cost her. And then she’ll end up settling for less than she could have. Because no man will love her as much as I do,” he said roughly. “I think she’s had to settle enough in her life.”

  As Caro studied him, she felt her heart soften. “What makes you think she wouldn’t be settling with you, Walker Hale?”

  “Only one thing, ma’am. But it’s important.” He took a deep breath. “I love her. I think I loved her the first second I saw her overturn her suitcase and spill two dozen Tastykakes all over the airport floor back in Lost Creek. I knew I loved her when she took time out to befriend my dog. She’s smart and stubborn and generous and often impossible.” He stabbed a hand through his hair. “And there’s no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.”

  Olivia blew out a breath and set her spackling gun down on the big porch glider. “Well.” She shot a look at Caro and then shrugged. “That’s quite an explanation, Mr. Hale.”

  “Call me Walker, please. You must be Olivia. You’re the architect. Jilly described you. And I think you must be Caro.” Walker nodded slowly. “Your husband is in Afghanistan. Jilly told me about you, too. She was very proud to have such tight friends to support her.”

  “One thing I don’t understand. How did you know my address?” Olivia asked.

  Walker gave a tight smile. “I called in some favors. Sorry to turn up on your doorstep like this.” He reached through the window as something moved inside the car.

  “What are you doing?” Olivia asked sharply.

  “Just giving Winslow some water. He’s tired from all the traveling.” The man tapped lightly on the sill of the open window. “Sit up and say hi to Jilly’s friends, buddy.”

  The brown dog rose on the seat. There was a red bandanna tied around his neck, and his eyes were alert.

  Olivia felt another cold wedge of anger begin to melt. “Nice dog. You shouldn’t keep him cooped up in there. The ocean’s just down the hill. Take him for a walk while my friend and I go inside. We need to talk.”

  “I’ll do that.” Walker frowned. “But if Jilly’s on her way to Arizona, I can’t stay long. I’m going after her.”

  Olivia studied him in silence. “Why should we help you? Explain that to me again.”

  Even in the gathering shadows of night it was impossible to mistake the way his eyes darkened. “Because I love her, damn it. And I’m getting tired of explaining that to everyone I meet. We may be oil and water. We’ll probably fight once a week and disagree on everything. I don’t want anyone else but Jilly—and I’m going to make her happy, whether she wants me to or not,” he said grimly. “That’s why you should help me.”

  Caro glanced at Olivia and then put her hands on her hips. “Don’t go anywhere just yet. Take your dog down to the beach and then we’ll talk.”

  * * *

  “HE’S SERIOUS. DID you see his eyes when he talked about having Jilly in his life?”

  “I saw.” Olivia attacked her counter ruthlessly with a sponge. Then she refilled the teapot and added more Earl Grey tea. “It could be an act. After all, Jilly said he broke her heart and lied to her. Maybe we should just send him away. We could send him on a wild-goose chase to Arizona.”

  Caro sipped her tea thoughtfully. “That’s what I meant to do. That’s what part of me still wants to do. But what if we’re wrong? What if he is the one for her? What if we screw that up?”

  Olivia rolled her shoulders. “Don’t look at me. You’re the queen of the relationship department. I’m a failure, remember?”

  “One or two misfires don’t make you a failure. And we’re going to work on that relationship stuff,” Caro said firmly. “Just as soon as we get Jilly sorted out.” She glanced through the big picture window that faced the beach.

  He was still down there.

  He had run his dog up and down half-a-dozen times. Now he was on the ground, flat on his back, wrestling with the big brown dog.

  Caro sighed. “I don’t care. I like him. I’m probably biased. He’s a former marine, after all. But he’s serious about Jilly, and that’s what counts. It may hurt her to see him again so soon, but being alive means being hurt. I vote that we let him in.”

  Olivia gave the counter another vicious cleaning. “Remember what she said? His family is about as powerful as they get. You know how sensitive Jilly is about being an orphan and a foster child. What would that be like for her? How will she ever fit in?”

  “We can’t keep her here forever, wrapped up and protected. We may want to, but we can’t.” Caro pointed to the beach. “Take a good look down there. That quiet man may be her very best chance at happiness. That’s the problem with trying to do the right thing. There’s a chance you can make things worse.” Caro sighed. “I wish Grace were here. She would know what to do.”

  “Well, she’s not. So it’s up to us.” Olivia tossed her sponge into the spotless sink and crossed her arms. “So does he go or does he stay?”

  * * *

  JILLY TOSSED RESTLESSLY, caught in dreams of big brown dogs and tall, quiet men.

  There was no particular order to the dreams. There were no faces or names or voices. Everything felt blurred as she walked through a quiet mountain twilight, feeling lost, wanting things that she had never put a name to before. She had learned how to want and ho
pe and wish while she was in Wyoming.

  After a long time she heard a low voice call her name. She spun around, but there was only darkness. There was no one waiting for her, no one to share her hurts and hopes with.

  With a low sound of loss, she let the images go and sank back into sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “I’VE MADE UP MY MIND.” Caro stared up toward the bedroom where Jilly was sleeping. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Olivia frowned at her friend. “What did you decide?”

  “You’ll see.” Caro gestured for Olivia to follow her out to the front porch. She moved quickly now, a woman with a purpose.

  “I don’t understand. Did you hear something from Gage? Did he send an email about this man, Walker?”

  “No, I haven’t heard anything yet, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “We need to discuss this.” Olivia shook her head. “There are still questions. I don’t want Jilly to be hurt any more.”

  Caro didn’t answer, pushing open the front door. They were greeted with a gust of clean sea wind and the muffled sound of barking from the beach.

  “He’s the one.” Caro took a deep breath. “That’s all I know. I don’t know how I know it, so don’t ask me to explain, but every cell in my body is warning me not to let him leave. So I won’t. It may not work out. They may both be hurt, but that’s the cost of being alive. Jilly has to accept that. So do you, Olivia. Life isn’t neat and tidy. It isn’t a dirty counter that you can scrub clean twice a day. So just get over it.” Caro stalked down the path toward the beach and smiled when the big dog ran toward her, barking and circling her in excitement. “My, you are one beautiful dog.”

  Walker Hale jogged up behind Winslow. “He needed that run on the beach. I guess we both did. Thanks for the suggestion.” He was watching the women, waiting for a sign of what would happen next.

  “You hurt Jilly,” Caro said flatly. “What are you going to do to make that right?”

  Walker met her gaze directly. “I’ll start by telling her the truth. Everything that happens after that will be her decision as much as mine.”

  Caro considered this and then nodded. She ignored Olivia, who was digging her elbow into Caro’s side. “Jilly didn’t go to Arizona. She’s asleep upstairs. She was exhausted when she got back and very upset. So a word of warning for you, Mr. Hale. Treat her right. If you hurt her again, we’ll be coming after you with paring knives and knitting needles. And that’s not something you want.”

  Walker didn’t smile. He didn’t act as if it was an empty threat, either. “I understand. And I’m not going to hurt her. We’re going to work this out somehow. The only thing is…” His voice trailed away.

  “Don’t tell us that you’re an ax murder,” Olivia said coldly. “Or you already have two wives. Let’s hear everything right now, before you go upstairs to see Jilly.”

  “It’s my family. We pretty much put the D in dysfunctional. I’ll do all I can to buffer Jilly from that, but there are going to be moments when she wishes that she’d never met me.”

  “Do your best. That’s all Jilly would want from you. And be ready to tell them to back off.”

  Walker’s lips curved slightly. “I’ll remember that.” He looked down as Winslow whined, glancing at the front door.

  “She’s upstairs. Olivia and I were just leaving. We’ll take Jilly’s dog, Duffy, with us. If he sees a stranger and another dog here, it would be World War III. Give us five minutes to clear out. Then you can go in.” Caro’s eyes narrowed. “And remember what I told you.”

  Olivia started to protest, but Caro grabbed her arm and tugged her back into the house, closing the door firmly behind them.

  * * *

  THE WOMEN WERE GONE in under five minutes. In the sudden silence, Walker stood uncertainly, hands in his pockets, wondering if he was making the right choice. Could he be sure that Jilly wouldn’t get hurt?

  If their involvement became known, Jilly would be hounded by reporters, biographers and political hacks looking to make capital off his father’s career. How was he going to protect her from that?

  He gripped the porch rail, frowning. Maybe he should leave now. Maybe it would be best for Jilly to get over him and move on with her life. His driven, complicated family thrived on secrets and power plays. Jilly would hate to have any part of that.

  Undecided, Walker turned, watching the moon rise over the restless cove. Winslow bumped against his leg, whining softly, alert as ever to Walker’s moods and emotions.

  “What do you say, buddy? Do we go or do we stay? My heart is telling me not to leave. But my mind, the mind that knows exactly what my family is capable of, is shouting for me to go before Jilly finds out what life with the dysfunctional Hales is like.”

  Wind blew up from the harbor, whistling over the quiet porch. Every gust seemed to carry whispered words of sadness and warning. Walker heard his own dreams carried in that low whisper. He felt the pain of dark memories of war and too much death. But since meeting Jilly he had learned to turn his eyes from the past and look at the road ahead.

  Winslow whined. When Walker didn’t move, the big dog rubbed against his leg, staring restlessly at the house in longing to go inside.

  Walker blew out a breath. “I know how you feel, buddy. I’m right there with you. So—it’s boots to the ground. Let’s go inside and see what it takes to make this right.”

  * * *

  WALKER CLIMBED THE STAIRS slowly.

  He had picked and measured his words all the way from Lost Creek. From the moment he’d found Jilly’s bouquet, forgotten on the chair outside the room where his sister had cornered him, he had tried to imagine all the ways to soothe her.

  He still didn’t know where to start.

  The truth would always work best, he thought wryly.

  Pushing open the door at the top of the stairs, Walker saw a shadowed room. A pink blanket and pink walls. And then he saw Jilly.

  He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so worried. She slept with the same driven energy that she did everything else. The blankets were tangled across her feet. A pillow was jammed under her shoulder. One arm stretched out as if she was flipping omelettes in a busy kitchen.

  She didn’t change.

  Walker didn’t want her to change.

  She looked exhausted, so deep in sleep that she hadn’t felt his presence, and he couldn’t bring himself to wake her. So he sank down onto a frilly chair of bright pink chintz and studied the room, taking in Jilly’s single suitcase and the brown paper bag in the corner near the bed.

  The wedding dress she had worn in Lost Creek hung neatly behind the door, wrapped in plastic, ready to send back to Mamie.

  Hell.

  Quietly he nudged off his boots and motioned for Winslow to sit beside him. From the chair he had a sweeping view of the Summer Island cove and the scattered fishing boats at sea. But he saw none of it.

  All he saw was Jilly. She had touched him that way from the first moment they had met. His shoulder had ached and he had been exhausted from a difficult training mission, and yet her energy had touched his life, changing him forever.

  When she was in a room he saw nothing else. When her laugh drifted through the air, it dug straight into his chest, playing havoc with his pulse and sanity.

  And when they had touched, with her legs wrapped around him and her mouth soft against his lips…

  Nothing else in his world had ever come close. She stirred his blood with only a smile.

  And where did that leave them? This was about more than sex, even though he could already tell that the sex would be off the chart.

  Walker closed his eyes. No, it was about far more than sex. And she wouldn’t open up easily to the future he had planned. She would never welcome interference, so he had to move very slowly. Nothing too obvious.

  To a point.

  If she endangered her health, he would be all over it. And it wouldn’t be a smooth trip. They had a lot to learn. So muc
h to experience.

  But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  This was about trust, about being partners as well as lovers. He wanted to build a future that would inspire them and provide safe haven as long as they lived. Walker wouldn’t accept anything less than forever with Jilly.

  On the bed she stirred, whispering words he couldn’t understand, drifting up from sleep like a tired swimmer surfacing from deep water. The pillow slid out from under her head.

  She sat up sharply and blinked.

  Her eyes widened when she saw him. Shock. Joy. Relief.

  And then complete and total fury.

  Her pillow came shooting straight toward him.

  “Get out!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  JILLY TOSSED THE BLANKETS back and stood up, her long legs flashing. She grabbed the quilt and tossed it in Walker’s face. “Go away!”

  “Jilly, we have to talk.”

  She didn’t listen. Wildly, she grabbed whatever was close. A book flew at his head. Olivia’s new Italian leather sandals hurtled toward his chest. “Leave!”

  “I will. But first—”

  Muttering, Jilly grabbed his boots, shoved open the window and tossed them over the edge. His sweater went next.

  She couldn’t bear to see the shadowed figure in Olivia’s favorite armchair. She didn’t give him time to explain—or herself time to change her mind. “You have nothing to say to me.”

  “I can understand your anger, Jilly. I’m sorry you had to learn about me the way you did, through the angry words of an angry woman.”

  “I’m not going to listen to this. It’s over.” She stood behind him, her shoulder to his back, shoving him to the door.

  And then she slammed the door behind him.

  * * *

  WALKER HAD EXPECTED ANGRY.

  He hadn’t expected insane. Then he remembered Jilly’s mocking self-description. She had called herself a screamer. Not far off the mark, he thought ruefully.