Page 8 of Fortune's Control
“Shane Wilcott.”
“Nice to meet you. Again.”
“Where are you from?”
“Atlanta.”
“I asked if you needed help earlier. Care to give me an honest answer this time?”
It was a complicated question with a horrible answer. I was safe in Fortune’s Creek, as only Emma knew I was here. I didn’t inform the police before leaving, and my mom was busy with her latest beau. He couldn’t know either, so his threats couldn’t reach me here.
“My car ran out of gas four miles out of town. I was trying to figure out what to do when we met.”
“Do you have anywhere to go tonight?”
I wanted to explain myself and my ridiculous flight offancy. “No.” The admission hurt.
“So, what was your plan?”
“Walk to my car and figure out the rest in the morning.”
“Alone? In the dark and by yourself?” Shane’s tone and expression made his opinion clear.
“I’ve faced bigger dangers, and I’m still here, so don’t worry about me. I’m sorry again for embarrassing you, Shane. You were enjoying an evening with your friends, and I got in the way.”
Shane sucked on his lower lip. “In the way? An interesting choice of words.” He chuckled. “You don’t know me at all, do you?” He leaned forward and whistled to his friends, who didn’t bother to hide their eavesdropping. “Dean and Aiden, get your father here and tell him to bring a marriage license.”
One of them spoke up. “He’s probably in bed.”
“Then wake him up. I want him here in ten minutes. No, that’s too long. Make it five.” He directed the next part to the other restaurant patrons. “Who volunteers as a witness?”
“Shane, wait.” This ridiculous affair could not be real. I’d end up married to a stranger, all because of his friends’ prank and my poor decision. “You don’t need to do this.”
“I don’t, huh?” he asked.
“Dad’s on his way. He called you an idiot.” Was that Aiden? Was he always this chipper?
Shane leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Too late.”
*****
The buzz of conversation faded into a curious silence as a man with thinning white hairapproached.
“Boys.” He rubbed his forehead with the back of one thumb. “Which of you is getting married?”
“That’s me.” Shane glowered at his friends before offering a softer expression to the stranger. “This is Lilah Mayberry. Lilah, meet Sam Taggert, our mayor. We’re getting married. Tonight.”
“Part-time mayor. How long have you known each other?”
Shane had the gall to check his phone. “Almost three hours.”
“Three hours? Shane, think about this. Your parents aren’t here to guide you, but I’ve known you your whole life, and, well, I never expected it from you. My boys? Absolutely. They’re dumber than a pair of goats in July.”
“Mr. Taggert, we appreciate the concern, but I’ve been on my feet all day, so this needs to get done,” Shane said.
Sam stiffened and offered a tight nod. “I understand.” What did that mean? A secret code Shane didn’t want me to understand passed between them. “I’ll make it quick.”
Getting fired was awful. Witnessing a murder…I didn’t want to think about that. “What do you need from me?” Exhaustion spread, and not from lack of sleep.
