Mr. Fiancé Read online

  Oliver grins, taking my mother's hand and gently kissing the back of it, his eyes twinkling. “It’s a pleasure, Ma’am. They say that a man can see his future wife when he looks at her mother . . . and I’m a lucky man.”

  My mom looks at me approvingly, sounding slightly out of breath. “Ooh, Mindy, I like him.”

  “Don’t be fooled,” I say under my breath before replying, “Thanks, Mom.”

  Mom shakes her head, running her hand down the length of Oliver’s arm in admiration as if he’s a toy on display. “You must work out a lot, Harold. You’ll like the gym, I hope.”

  “Oliver, please,” he says gently. When my mom looks at him in question, he chuckles. “I prefer to go by my middle name.”

  She looks at me, her eyes accusing. “How come you never told me that?”

  “I . . .” I’m at a loss for words when Oliver saves me.

  “She’s always forgetting things,” Oliver cuts in. “She even forgot the day we first met and when I decided to honor my grandfather by going by my middle name.”

  I turn a dark scowl on Oliver, trying to tell him to stop it with my eyes.

  He grins at me and winks, but before I can reply, I hear a voice from the doorway. “Well I heard that you had your mother’s beauty, but that just doesn’t do it justice. It’s good to finally meet you, Mindy.”

  A white-haired, distinguished-looking man steps through the doorway, dressed in a fine gray suit and tie, everything about him perfectly groomed.

  “Honey! Mindy, this is John, my wonderful fiancé,” my mom gushes as John takes my hand and kisses it, his mustache prickling lightly on my skin. It tickles, and I have to smile a little as he steps back, clasping my hand in both of his and smiling.

  “Nice to meet you, John,” I say politely.

  “It’s a pleasure.” He turns to Oliver, sizing him up the way men do and looking impressed. “And is this Harold?”

  “Oliver,” Oliver corrects as he offers his hand, and the two men shake in another one of those male measuring sticks, both looking like they passed the other’s test. “I recently decided to go by my middle name.”

  “Well then,” John says, gesturing inside. “Come on in. Let me give you the ten-cent tour.”

  My breath is taken away again as we step fully into the foyer. Gleaming marble floors, impossibly high ceilings, and a winding staircase make the entryway look like a grand entrance to heaven.

  “Wow,” I breathe. “So which king did you rob to get all of this stuff?”

  My mom clasps her hands together with pleasure. “It is like a palace, isn’t it? The first time I stepped inside, I felt like I’d had my Cinderella moment.”

  “Nice place you’ve got here,” Oliver says, again sounding not as impressed as I thought he’d be.

  “Everything is—” I start before Oliver pulls me to a stop, cutting off my words.

  “It’s nearly as beautiful as my little Princess,” Oliver says, taking me by surprise when he pulls me close, and before I can do anything, he kisses me on the lips. His kiss is intense, powerful, and before I know, it I’m kissing him back, even as his hands pull me against his hard body. I feel a growing heat rising again between my thighs. I’m left breathless, chest heaving when he pulls away. I flash murder at him as he whispers in my ear, “Payback for your little stunt on the plane.”

  I can hardly listen. My body is hot, and I know my nipples are tight and aching inside my dress. I’m probably poking through the thin bra I wore to show off the dress. My cheeks burn, and I’m so embarrassed to be turned on in front of my mom.

  “You okay?” she asks me, amused. “Young love is so passionate.”

  “I’m fine,” I stammer, pushing away and not wanting to. “He caught me off guard. And someone forgot we had garlic chicken on the plane. Tic-tac next time, honey?”

  Oliver flashes his mocking smirk at me before giving Mom a raised eyebrow. “I always leave her breathless. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Your daughter’s too beautiful.”

  John chuckles at that. “I’m liking you already.” He pulls out a cigar and inhales as he runs it under his nose before sticking it in the corner of his mouth. “Trust me, I’m so glad I can get these legally now. They’re a bad habit, but I allow myself one or two a week. Cuban, imported directly from Havana. Come, Oliver, let me get to know my eventual son-in-law.”

  Oliver smiles. “Got any Cuban rum to go with that cigar?”

  “How’s Jamaican? And do you like cars?” John asks, his eyes twinkling merrily.

  Oliver laughs. “Of course I do. When I was a kid, I had all the best sports cars in my toy collection.”

  John seems giddy like a schoolboy, and he claps Oliver on the shoulder, charmed already. “Come with me and I’ll show you my garage. I’m sure there’s something there you’d like. Let these ladies catch up.”

  The two of them head off, Oliver giving me a wink. After they leave, Mom leads me through the mansion.

  “Where is everyone?” I ask as we leave the foyer. “Where’s Roxy? And where’s this staff I’m hearing about?”

  “It’s not all that,” Mom says with a shrug. “John sent the staff on duty to town together. I wanted to do something special for dinner. As for Roxy, she’s with your aunt out getting their dresses for the rehearsal dinner.”

  “I can't wait to see them,” I tell Mom honestly. “It’s been too long.”

  Mom shows me around the house, and as we do, I feel a question that’s been on my mind for a long time bubbling to the surface. Finally, I have to ask. “Mom?”

  “Yes, honey?” Mom asks, stopping in front of the eighteenth-century German grandfather clock that she’s been going on about for a while. “What is it?”

  “Mom . . . do you love him?”

  She gives me a questioning look. “What do you mean, Mindy? Do I love John?”

  “Yes,” I say, letting my fears out. “Most of the time you talk about him, it’s about his money. His things. His stuff. You come to the door looking like you’ve stepped out of an old Elizabeth Taylor movie or something . . . but what about John?”

  Mom nods, looking at the bracelet on her arm, then chuckles. “If John lost it all tomorrow, if we had to hock these diamonds, if we were left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the feelings we share . . . I’d still marry him. I love him, Mindy. It’s just hard for me to put my feelings about John into words, so I talk about his things instead. You don’t know how strange it is, telling my adult daughter about how I’m left feeling like a schoolgirl again, a . . . what’s the word Oliver used for you?”

  “Princess,” I say automatically, and Mom laughs.

  “Yeah, that’s how I feel. I’m fifty-four, and I feel like a princess,” Mom says, reassuring my fears. “So, what about Oliver? He seems to be very into you.”

  “I . . . well,” I start, lost in thoughts over Oliver’s kiss. My lips still tingle and my body feels warm even at the memory, and I stammer for words. “He’s great.”

  “Seems more than great to me. He seems like a catch,” Mom says, but before she can say anything, there’s a booming sound as the doors to the estate are thrown open and a voice I’ve long missed calls out.

  “MOM! We’re home!”

  Roxy. Oh my God, I’ve got to go back into performance mode. Roxy’s going to want to see Oliver, and he’s going to want to kiss me again, and my body . . . I’m babbling in my head and I can’t stop it.

  “Mindy?” Mom says, shaking me back to the moment. “Hey, you okay? You looked pale there for a second. Was it the airline food?”

  “No . . . no, I’m fine, Mom,” I lie, wishing it were just the airline food. Fine? I’m not fine, and now I have to deal with Roxy and Grandma.

  Shit.

  Chapter 8

  Oliver

  “Oh, my darling niece,” Aunt Rita coos as she comes forward and wraps her arms around Mindy. We’re in the waiting room just outside the dining room. John and I spent a good hour in the garage going over
his pretty sweet collection, and now it’s time for dinner.

  Mary Jo made us all wait outside for the rest of the family to get acquainted with me while dinner was being prepared. I’m glad I dressed the part. This family seems to like dressing up. Chalk one up to my father’s constant social skills lessons. I can go back to being a blue blood very quickly.

  There’s a few more people here now. Behind Aunt Rita, Mindy’s grandmother is with two girls, one who’s nearly the spitting image of Mindy except that her hair’s shorter. She must be Roxy. The other looks like she’d prefer to be anywhere else but here.

  “Hey, Auntie,” Mindy says excitedly, taking her in an embrace and delivering a kiss to her cheek. She takes turn embracing each woman then steps back, giving her aunt a questioning tilt to her head. “Where’s Uncle Charles?”

  “He’s outside having a smoke,” Rita replies, sighing and rolling her eyes. “No matter what I try, I just can't get that man to stop. You take a pack away, he’s got seven more hidden.”

  John, I see, has a guilty look as his hand unconsciously pats the suit pocket where he’d put his cigar case, and I’m glad I didn’t take him up on his offer. I seriously doubt he’s going to pull another out for as long as Rita’s around. Meanwhile, Rita turns her eyes on me, and I can feel the question burning in everyone’s eyes. “Who is this fine young man?”

  “This is Oliver, my fiancé,” Mindy announces proudly, gesturing to each woman in turn. “Oli, this is my Aunt Rita, my cousin, Layla, my sister, Roxy, and my Grandma, Ivy Jo.”

  “Nice to meet you ladies,” I say, flashing them all a charming smile. “And thank you, Princess, for remembering my name this time.”

  Ivy Jo holds out her arms at me as Mindy gives me an evil look. “Don’t stand across the room, young man. Come give an old lady a hug.”

  I chuckle and do as she commands. “Who am I to resist the charms of a beautiful woman like you?”

  “Oh, stop it,” she murmurs as she pulls me into a hug and runs her hands up and down my back, finishing with a pinch of my butt. “Nice and strong, just like old Johnny used to be.”

  “Grandma,” Mindy says warningly and casts me a sympathetic glance. “Let’s not molest my fiancé before dinner, please?”

  I chuckle. “It’s okay. Sometimes, it’s nice to eat your dessert before dinner,” I tease. Mindy blushes slightly, and I give Grandma my full attention. “Johnny’s your husband?”

  “Was,” she corrects, but I can tell by her voice that it’s an old loss. “He’s worm food now, but boy, do I enjoy remembering the days when he used to hike these old legs back and—”

  Mindy coughs loudly, shaking her head, while Layla grabs her grandmother by the shoulders and pulls her to the side, shutting her up. “Uh, she gets that way.”

  “No problem,” I reply with a laugh. “I love doing some hiking myself,” I say, looking over to make sure Mindy heard me.

  Layla gives me a grateful nod while Mindy turns a deeper shade of red, and Roxy steps forward, peering at me with wide eyes. “Oh, my God, he’s gorgeous!” she exclaims to Mindy. “Girl, you got a keeper. No wonder you wouldn’t stop bragging about how good he was in bed.”

  Mindy scowls murder at her sister. “Roxy, please don’t—”

  Roxy shakes her head, not listening. “Shoot, I might have to go back home with you if they’re serving up dishes like this.” She gives me a look. “You got a brother? You know, for the longest time, I swore you were just the battery-operated fantasies of a girl who wasn’t getting her needs met. Glad to see I’m wrong.”

  “Ignore her,” Mindy half pleads, half commands. This is hilarious. “She’s just being silly.”

  “What?” Roxy asks, giving her sister a smirk. “So anyway, about there maybe being a younger version of you . . .”

  I chuckle. I like her already. “Yeah, I have one, but you’d want to kill him after five minutes. I have a feeling Tony would like you though.”

  “Why’s that?” Roxy asks, her eyes going slightly wide.

  “Well, he kind of likes anything with a vagina and a pulse.”

  Mindy glares at me with eyes that seem to say I want to kill you, but Roxy just laughs. She’s enjoying the banter.

  “I hear you’re a singer,” I say. “What do you sing?”

  Roxy lights up like a light bulb. “Yes, I have my own band. We sing on Friday nights and weekends at a bar in town called Trixie’s. Lots of rock, but we mix in pop too—we kind of have to depending on the night.”

  “Really?” I say honestly. “That’s impressive.”

  “Little Roxy has a beautiful voice,” Rita says. “Why don’t you sing a few lines for the man?”

  “Please, let’s not,” says Layla with a roll of her eyes. “I can only handle so much ass kissing at once.”

  I ignore Layla and give Roxy a smile. “Go for it if you want.”

  Roxy looks like she just hit the jackpot. “I can,” she says with a dimpled smile. “What do you like? Beyoncé? Taylor Swift? Katy Perry?”

  I laugh. “I’m more of a Johnny Cash man myself, so I’ll let you choose.”

  “Honey, I don’t do country. But I can start singing some Fifth Harmony and Mindy can start twerking for us. Remember your last birthday when you got drunk and they started Worth It? Oh, my God . . .”

  Mindy places her hands on her hips and opens her mouth to berate her sister when the doors to the dining room swing open and Mary Jo appears in the doorway, clapping her hands and beaming at us all. “Dinner’s ready!”

  We go into the dining room, where I see that Mary Jo has actually gone to the trouble of putting place cards out for everyone. While I help Mindy with her chair, a short, tubby man who smells like every nasty, old ass smoky bar in the world comes in, walking by me and spewing clouds of noxious odor behind him. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Rita tries to hold back her disgust as Charles sits next to her, but I can understand. The man smells like he didn’t have one cig, but the whole damn pack. “Charles, if you don’t mind?”

  “Piss off,” he growls, and I’m about to say something about being respectful, but I feel Mindy dig her fingernails into my thigh as she gives me a small shake of her head. I get it. I don’t know these people and it’s not my place, but it’s hard to watch the disrespect.

  “So how long have you worked for Honda?” Grandma asks as we wait for the servers. “I didn’t know they have an office in town.”

  “Oh, since I graduated school, and I have to commute,” I say quickly, keeping a smile on my face. Mindy gave me some details, but a lot of it I’m just making up on the fly. “It’s worth it though, small-town living and all that.”

  “And how did you first meet?” John asks.

  Mindy smiles and tries to take the lead. “Well, you guys have to listen to this. I was in the coffee shop, my hair all messed up. He walks in and says I’ve been—”

  “Actually, I came into the coffee shop and was sitting down. Mindy started flirting with me, asking if I worked out. I was surprised by her boldness, but I liked it. I had to give her my number when she asked me for it.”

  “That sounds like my Mindy,” Ivy Jo winks. “Forget the clothes—check out the biceps.”

  “I don’t blame her. I’d have been offering free fraps and singing Call Me Maybe if I’d had the chance,” Roxy adds with a grin. “And I hate that song.”

  “Now, now, Roxy,” Mary Jo says. “I think you’ve embarrassed your sister enough.”

  “Just kidding, Mom,” Roxy says, obviously not apologetic. “But seriously, Oliver, you do look like you work out. I’ll play the guy here—so whatcha bench?”

  “I really don’t know,” I reply. “I’m more into martial arts than lifting.”

  “Really? You didn’t tell us you were dating Bruce Lee,” Roxy teases Mindy.

  Beside me, I feel Mindy go stiff, and I don’t have to look to know she’s cutting me with her eyes. She reaches over and puts her hand on my thigh, giving me a fake smile, when t
here’s a commotion at the other end of the table.

  “Jesus!” Ivy Jo squeals as we hear a yelp, and suddenly, Bertha goes running around the dining room in fear. “Mary Jo, you get that HEFFA on a leash or I’mma skin it and make me a coat! Or maybe a rug!”

  “Bertha, you behave!” Mary Jo snaps, and Bertha runs out. She looks at me apologetically. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s no problem,” I say easily. “You don’t like dogs, I take it?” I ask Ivy Jo.

  She raises her nose to the ceiling. “I’m more of a cat lady myself.”

  I chuckle. “My dog would never let me own a cat.”

  “Oh, yeah, your golden retriever,” Mindy says. “What was his name?”

  “Her name was Hershey, and she was a brown spaniel,” I say casually, chuckling as I look at Mary Jo. “What was it I said about her being forgetful?”

  I don’t have to look in her direction to know Mindy is cutting her eyes at me again. But I ignore it, enjoying conversation with her family. Besides Charles, I think I like everyone in the room. They’re certainly not the cultured one-percenters you’d think of with a place like this, but they are real. And I’ll take real over a pedigree any day.

  Everything is going fine and smooth when Mindy suddenly sets her napkin aside and gets up from the table. “Can I speak to you outside?” she asks, walking to the doorway and turning around to give me a look that says Now.

  “Sorry,” I say, flashing a wink at everyone. “Relationship goals.”

  There’s a polite chuckle from the group as I leave the table, following Mindy out the back door. We step onto the marble patio, and I take a second to admire the layout of the back garden. It’s beautiful, with a clear sky and the stars starting to come out in the purplish sky. It’s going to be amazing later.

  Before I can comment on it, Mindy whirls on me, her voice barely contained. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask innocently, trying not to laugh. Watching her upset like this is just glorious. “I’m being your fiancé.”