Brenda Minton - The Boss's Bride

Patrick Fogerty stepped into the room, all six feet four inches of him. He looked around and then spotted her. Gracie shrugged as she watched her boss take a few steps into the room, his ruggedly handsome face masked in shadows, his dark hair a little messy from the wind.

For the first time she really wanted to cry. It was a strange mixture of relief, sadness, guilt and anger that wrapped itself up inside of her like tangled string, none of it really making any sense. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away. Patrick offered her a sympathetic smile and that was when the tears really began to flow.

Gracie Wilson stared up at Patrick, her wide, dark eyes filling with tears. He watched her for a long minute, surprised to see her sitting in the stockroom of his store. When she hadn’t walked down the aisle, everyone had been surprised. Everyone, that is, except Ann Mars. He’d been sitting next to her in the church, and for whatever reason, she hadn’t seemed all that shocked. She’d told him that it was because she was in her eighties and she knew a thing or two about life.

Miss Mars, instead of being worried, had seemed relieved. He’d thought he heard a few sighs of relief throughout the sanctuary of Bygones Community Church.

“Are you going to hit me with that rebar?” he asked, because he didn’t know what else to say. Damsels in distress were not typically his cup of tea.

What else could he say to the woman he’d known for only a couple of months? She’d been recommended by Ann Mars, his worthy representative and guide to all things Bygones. Ann had promised him an employee who would be on time, work hard and know how to fix anything as well as bring in customers. She’d picked the right person.

Gracie Wilson could handle tools, she could handle customers, and she even seemed to know how to handle him. She’d kept him from giving up on this venture. After all, he was a city boy, born and raised. Moving to Bygones, starting a new business in a town that was struggling financially, that took faith. When his seemed to be in short supply, she loaned him hers the way neighbors loaned a cup of sugar in Bygones, Kansas.

He’d made a commitment. A business of his own in trade for a commitment to stay for two years and make it work. There were several new businesses in Bygones. They were painted, remodeled and hopefully a cure for a town that didn’t want to lose everything.

“I was prepared for a burglar,” she whispered as tears trickled down her cheeks.

He stood there for a long minute, unsure of what to do next. Call the police? Call Ann Mars, his Save Our Streets sponsor?

She shifted on the stool. “Say something.”

“Gracie,” he cleared his throat, “I guess I’m surprised to see you here.”

She looked up, smiling a little as she brushed tears from her cheeks. She looked tinier than ever in the white creation of a dress, her dark hair pulled back with rhinestone clips and strings of pearls.

“I think there are probably a lot of people surprised,” she said, brushing away her tears.

“Yes, surprised and worried. They’re searching for you.” He focused on the rebar she still had a death grip on. “Other than the ones who decided to take advantage of the reception.”

“It should be a good party.”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t marry him.” She laughed and then sobbed. “I’m going to be in big trouble.”

“Seems to me the trouble would have been marrying him if you had doubts.”

She nodded but didn’t speak. The tears were streaming down her cheeks again, and he wondered if her doubts were real or if she just had cold feet and needed a few minutes to get her thoughts together.

“Can I help?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, there’s really nothing anyone can do. I just can’t marry him.”

“Are you sure?” He cleared his throat, not at all sure what else to say in a situation such as this. He’d never had little sisters. He’d dated but never been married.

He’d learned one thing about women: sometimes they walked when things looked difficult. At least, that was what had happened to him.

He didn’t think Gracie was the type to skip out on someone just because it got a little difficult.

Sitting on the stool, she looked smaller than her barely five feet, especially in the billowy white dress that didn’t seem to suit her style. Not that he was a guy who paid much attention to style. But even he could recognize when a woman needed someone, though.

He pushed aside misgivings and reached to hug her. First he took the rebar from her hand and set it on the worktable. She leaned into his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her, keeping his face out of the protruding objects that decorated her hair. Avoiding the light scent of her fragrance took more effort. It matched the softness of her skin and the sweet way she leaned against him.

For a guy who didn’t notice much, unless it had to do with home remodeling or electrical problems, he noticed a lot in those few minutes holding Gracie.

“I can’t marry him,” she finally whispered against his shoulder and then she backed out of his embrace. “But I’m going to have to face this.”

“Yes, I guess you will.” He reached for a roll of paper towels on the shelf and pulled off a few sheets for her to wipe her eyes. “I don’t have a handkerchief.”

She smiled through her tears and then laughed. “Wouldn’t that be chivalrous if you did? Maybe a little too cliché?”

“I guess that’s a good reason to never offer a woman a handkerchief. What guy wants to be cliché?”

“You could never be cliché.” She smiled as she said it, dabbing her eyes with paper towels that were less than soft. “My dad is going to be embarrassed. Mrs. Morgan will be furious. I wonder if there’s a bus out of this town tonight.”

“I don’t think a bus comes anywhere near Bygones. And if you caught a bus, who would work for me?”

“You haven’t replaced me?”

“Of course not. And if you’re up to it, I’ll need you here Monday morning. Remember, you had that great idea to have the block party in a few weeks. I can’t do that without you.”

“You could.”

“Yeah, but people trust you. They aren’t always trusting of the city guy who has moved in and wants their business.”

“They’ll learn that you can be trusted.”

“Thanks, Gracie.” He reached for her hand and helped her down from the stool. “I like the boots.”

“Thank you. I picked them out.” She twirled in the dress that looked like white lace gone crazy. “I did not pick this. I think it makes me look like a bad version of Cinderella at the ball.”

“It isn’t that bad.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “It is that bad. You’re just being nice.”

“Okay, I’m being nice. I am a nice guy. Haven’t you heard?”

She smiled up at him. She was more than a foot shorter than him, with a pixie face and dark eyes that could tease or flash with humor. Sometimes those eyes flashed fire if something got her riled up. She was twenty-four, ten years younger than his thirty-four years. She sometimes seemed younger, but more often seemed a decade older.

He knew she’d gone through a lot. She’d lost her mom fourteen years ago. Miss Coraline had given him tidbits and told him to take care of her girl, because

Gracie acted strong but she needed to be able to let other people be strong for her. He’d gotten a lot of advice from Coraline Connolly since he’d moved to Bygones.

“You are a nice guy, Patrick.” Gracie sighed and reached back for the veil that hung from a hook on the wall. “And my name is going to be mud. I’m glad I have one friend left.”

“Want me to drive you home?”