Free The Groom's Revenge by Susan Crosby Page B

window the whole time. Everything looked so small! Then we could see into everyone’s yards as we came in for a landing. Does everyone have a swimming pool...” She noted the coolness in the air and stopped talking, knowing she’d been prattling out of nervousness.
    “Many do, I’m sure. Where do you live?”
    “Minneapolis.” Gray was right, Mollie thought. There hadn’t been even the tiniest change in his mother’s expression.
    “Mollie owns a flower shop. She designed the basket I sent you.”
    “Did you? It was lovely. I’ll give you a tour of my gardens later, if you’d like.”
    “That would be wonderful. Thank you.” Mollie shifted in her chair.
    “I imagine you would like to freshen up a bit after your flight,” Gretchen said. “James and I will be leaving for church shortly. Would you like to attend with us, darling?”
    “We have plans, Mother.”
    He stood, so Mollie did, as well. Apparently they’d been dismissed, after a conversation shorter than Mollie might have with a browsing customer. No one had even brought up the weather, which was glorious—warm and cloudless.
    “We’ll see you at lunch,” Gray said.
    “I’ll need to speak with you after,” James McGuire said.
    “Of course.”
    Mollie followed Gray silently out of the room, down a couple of halls then up some stairs. Everything gleamed, from the highly waxed, wood floors to the enormous chandelier in the entryway at the foot of the sweeping staircase. The place smelled of lemon oil, a soothing balm to Mollie’s frayed nerves, even if the house itself didn’t breathe warmth like Mac and Kelly’s big, beautiful home. Love went a long way toward filling up empty spaces, Mollie decided.
    “They put you in the room adjoining mine,” Gray said, opening a door.
    “Really? Why?”
    “Because I requested it.”
    She looked around at the four-poster bed with canopy, the spindly legged lady’s desk and the fine damask prints that curtained the windows and covered the bed. A bouquet of Queen Elizabeth, Peace and Sterling Silver roses welcomed her, the lovely crystal vase centered on a starched, crocheted doily.
    “I’m in here.” Gray opened the door connecting their rooms.
    She peeked in, discovering a room similar to hers, with fabrics a little more masculine and a sturdier desk. “This wasn’t your room when you were a boy?”
    “I’m a guest now. I haven’t lived here for more than ten years.”
    “Oh.”
    Gray watched her take in everything, watched the light fade from her eyes. He’d tried to warn her, but she probably couldn’t have pictured how different his life had been from hers. Her disappointment was evident. He needed to change that. “I hope you brought shorts with you.”
    “Yes. Why?”
    “Because you’ll need them where we’re going. Unless you’d rather stay here and rest up from your exhausting journey?”
    She smiled at his words, then looked around her room again. “I don’t see my suitcase anywhere.”
    “It’s been unpacked for you.”
    “Someone put my underwear away? Eeuw. That’s creepy. Not to mention the fact I’ll have to hunt down where everything is.”
    He frowned. “I’m so used to people taking care of the details that I don’t think about it anymore.”
    “And have those people become invisible to you?”
    Which was a very good question—and one he didn’t care to answer. He believed he was more distracted than pretentious, but her chiding tone hit home. “Knock on my door when you’re ready.”
    Her eyes gleamed with challenge. “You think it’ll take me longer than you to change?”
    “Those are betting words, Mollie Shaw.”
    She tugged her blouse free and started unbuttoning from the bottom. “Winner buys hot fudge sundaes.”
    His attention was diverted by her fingers as they worked another button free, then another until only the top button remained, her blouse falling open slightly to reveal a hint of pale skin. “Ah, shouldn’t it be the loser who