Brent waited for a moment, to see if he could hear anything on the other side of the door, but only silence greeted him. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. Couldn’t focus on anything but getting through to her. “What do I need to do, baby? Do you want me to sing ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’? I’ll do it. I’ll deafen everyone in this building if that’s what you want.” When the silence remained, Brent’s head dropped against the door with a curse. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?”
Then he gave Bette Midler a run for her money.
…
Hayden stood stock-still, flanked by her mother and father, watching in fascination as Brent belted out the Beaches classic at the city clerk’s door. The one she’d ran out of five minutes ago. Halfway through his impassioned speech, from which her pulse still raced like crazy, the security guard had relented and stepped forward to unlock the door. Matt, however, finally noticing her standing ten yards away, had held him off with a look, allowing her to stand there while Brent poured his heart out.
Seconds after Story’s needless, yet effective, intervention, her father had come bursting through the chamber door. He’d actually managed to pull off a deal with a foreign investor to keep the company afloat. Her mother, realizing Hayden’s marriage to Stuart was now unnecessary, had fessed up to her father and told him about Hayden’s plan for the afternoon. Thank goodness she’d already decided not to marry Stuart or they might have been too late with the news. And she would be hearing this perfectly, beautifully, uniquely Brent speech from the wrong side of the door.
Her heart thumped so hard, she put her hands on her chest as though she could keep it from bursting free. This rough-edged, dirty-talking, wisecracking giant was singing to her as though his life depended on it and she’d almost given up the chance to be with him. Relief, powerful and encompassing, rolled through her in waves, accompanied by regret. If she’d believed for one minute that Brent had married someone else, she’d be devastated. Hayden could only imagine how he felt at that moment, thinking she’d discarded him without a word. Guilt poked holes in her relief. She needed his arms around her. It’s the only thing that would calm the riot of emotions. Reassure her that she’d avoided catastrophe.
“Brent.” Her voice came out sounding like a croak, so she tried again. “Brent.”
He spun around, eyes moving over her in a panic. “Oh God. I’m too late,” he said dazedly, then slumped hard against the door.
Pain twisted in her chest, her throat constricted. “No, you’re not too late. I couldn’t do it.”
Brent’s head jerked up. He looked as though he wanted to believe her, but was unable to see past his fear just yet. “Why? Why couldn’t you do it?”
“You know why,” Hayden whispered.
“I just sang the theme song from Beaches. Tell me anyway.”
She swallowed hard, words eluding her. Nothing she said could compare to the heartfelt speech he’d delivered moments before. So she closed her eyes and spoke from the heart. “I want you to leave your socks on my floor.” A breath shuddered out. “Not on Beth or Betsy or Becky’s floor. I want you to teach me how to grill. That’s something you do, right? In parking lots before sporting events or…or something?” She shook her head, knowing she rambled. “I want to…I want to be the one who worries about you. When you’re at work. I want to zone out while you talk about baseball.”
When she opened her eyes, Brent stood right in front of her, throat working with emotion. “Duchess—”
She rushed to finish before his nearness overwhelmed her. “I know the money bothers you, but I can’t do anything about it. It’s not who I am, though. Just try and remember that.”
“Baby—”
“I don’t care if freckle-faced Betsy is better for you, either. She can’t have you.”
“Woman, would you let me speak?” He clasped her face in his hands. “I want everything that comes along with you. All of it. And I don’t know who the hell Betsy is, nor do I care. I only leave my socks on your floor. You’re the only one who will ever have the right to worry about me. Or start an argument with me before breakfast.” He ran a thumb across her bottom lip. “But I’m not letting you near the grill, darlin’. That there’s a man’s job.”
Hayden launched herself into his arms with a laugh. Everything in the world felt right again when he wrapped them around her and swayed on his feet. She pressed her face against his strong neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t think I had a choice.”
“You did. You made the right one.” He pulled back to kiss her forehead, her cheeks. “The two of us can figure this out. I won’t let you be sorry for choosing me.”
She couldn’t speak for a moment as she regarded the man in front of her. He would do it, too. Help her support her family without a word of complaint. This goofy, loving, incomparable man. “I could never be sorry for that.” She nodded toward her father. “But fortunately that won’t be the case. Dad came through in the clutch.”
Her father’s eyes sparkled as he stepped forward to shake Brent’s hand, Hayden’s mother at his side, arms crossed. “I was coming here to stop a wedding. Turns out I didn’t need to. She ran out of there like a bat out of hell.”
Brent squeezed her to his side and smiled at her mother. “Mrs. Winstead.”
“Mother, do you have something you’d like to tell Brent?”
Primly, she raised her chin. “I apologized already to Hayden for going behind her back to pay your sister’s tuition. I don’t see why I have to do it twice.”
Brent flinched at her mother’s words and pulled her closer. “I’m an asshole for assuming. Working on it,” he whispered in her ear.
“Mother,” Hayden prompted.
“Oh all right. My apologies.” She perused her nails. “I won’t pretend I’m heartbroken over losing Stuart as a son-on-law. Bit of an ass, isn’t he?”
Laughing, they both started to respond, when Daniel snagged their attention. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Where is Story?”
Hayden disengaged from Brent’s side and laid a gentle hand on Daniel’s arm. “Now I don’t want you to overreact—”
As if on cue, two security guards emerged from the office behind Daniel, flanking a handcuffed Story. Daniel froze, face losing all color. “What the hell is going on here?”
“She flashed the city clerk,” the guard explained, looking bored.
“What?”
Story winced at his tone. “You told me to stall,” she called over her shoulder as they dragged her down the hallway. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”
After a moment of stunned disbelief, Daniel ran after them. “Hey! Uncuff her! That’s my girlfriend.”
“Fiancé, Daniel.”
They disappeared around the corner. Matt followed after them muttering something about needing to find new friends. Hayden, knowing Daniel would never let Story get taken away in a police car, finally relaxed. The minutes before Brent arrived had been spent haggling with the guards and calling her parents’ various lawyer friends on Story’s behalf.
She took Brent’s arm and pulled him aside. Her parents seemed to sense they wanted some privacy and followed in their friends’ wake. They were finally alone.
“Aren’t you going to—”
“Yes,” Brent growled, capturing Hayden’s mouth with his own. Her lips parted on a gasp and his tongue swept inside, possessing her. Reminding them both that she belonged to him. Reminding her who made her body weak and strong at the same time. She sensed that after the morning they’d had, he needed reassurance, and was only too happy to provide it. His hands cupped her elbows to drag her up against him. When he leaned in to reclaim her mouth a second time, she pulled back just a little, then took control of the kiss. A reminder that he belonged to her, too. She buried her fingers in his hair and slanted her mouth over his, again and again, until he broke away with a choked sound.
“I’m in charge every night for the next week. No exceptions.”
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Hayden nipped at his chin. “I’m going to make you work for it.”
He caught her up in his arms, long strides carrying them toward the exit. “Woman, I’m counting on it.”