* * *

“Mom.” Tate tried to disengage his mother, but she was having none of that nonsense. A glance at Jack Simpson revealed the man still standing there, arms crossed over his business suit, looking every bit a banker. A very disgruntled banker, actually. “Mom!” This really wasn’t the time.

“When’s the wedding?”

He blinked. Stared. The what?

“We haven’t set a date, Maribel.” Stephanie met Tate’s gaze, obviously begging him to play along.

“Well, don’t wait too long. Jamie needs stability, and my boy Tate needs a good woman like you at his side. I’m so happy for you both.”

How had Mom decided they were engaged? They hadn’t even said the L-word to each other. It had just come up rather sideways with Stephanie’s dad. Not that Tate hadn’t thought it. He just hadn’t said it to her. Because it seemed too soon. But now they were engaged? That was quick. He gave his head a tiny shake.

“Already having second thoughts, boy?” Jack Simpson watched him with raised eyebrows. “I don’t blame you. She can be a bit much. She’s scared away every other good man.”

Stephanie whirled to face him, color draining from her face. “Dad!”

“Well, it’s true.”

Tate slipped his arm around her waist, tugging her from Mom’s grasp, and took a deep breath. “No second thoughts. Stephanie is everything I’ve ever wanted in a wife.” It was even true and felt truer by the minute. “I hope you’ll give us your blessing.”

Jack threw both hands into the air. “Are you serious? Then go for it. Her mother and I can’t afford the kind of wedding you folks are likely accustomed to, but she won’t be embarrassed by it, either.”

The offer to pay for everything himself nearly exploded from Tate’s lips, but good sense prevailed in the nick of time. Let her parents play the traditional role. He’d top off anything else Stephanie wanted. “Thank you, sir. Your blessing means a lot to both of us.”

Okay, so it hadn’t exactly been a blessing, but this seemed to be the moment for jumping to conclusions, so he might as well carry on doing so.

“When you’ve set a date, please notify us.” Jack leaned closer and lowered his voice at his daughter. “And if you’re pregnant, your mother and I are not paying for the wedding. Just so you know.”

“Dad!” Stephanie swayed under Tate’s arm.

Mom added her embrace from Stephanie’s other side.

“No need to worry about that, sir.” Tate kept his voice calm although he felt like stooping to Jack’s level. Possibly slugging the guy. “That’s not what is going on.”

The man harrumphed, gave his daughter another glare, and strode away.

Tate became aware that at least a dozen people stood and stared. Truth? If he’d been a bystander, he’d be ogling, too. Because what had just happened? Somehow it seemed he’d agreed to marry Stephanie Simpson. Or had he offered to marry her? The details weren’t quite clear, but he didn’t dare scratch his head or show his confusion… of which he had plenty.

He turned to wrap Stephanie in his arms, and she melted against him, clinging to his shirt. Felt like the fabric might be growing damp, but whatever. Tear stains were very minor in the grand scheme of things.

Because he seemed to be engaged, and he hadn’t even planned it out or technically popped the question. Wait. It had been his mother who’d pushed the envelope.

“Mom? I think you—” His words stopped when Stephanie began to pull away. He couldn’t accuse his mother now, not in front of the woman he was going to marry. Because after seeing what her father was like — good church man more concerned about how things looked than how his own daughter felt — Tate’s protective instincts dug in deep. Similar impulses had led him to seek Jamie’s guardianship back in March.

He’d played Simon Peter in the Gilead passion play last Easter, and the similarities between them wasn’t lost on him. Peter-the-Rock had been impulsive, too, often making broad statements when he didn’t truly understand what he was saying.

Tate did the same, but so far, he hadn’t regretted it. He wasn’t going to regret Stephanie, either. After all, he’d been praying about their relationship since the day they’d first met, which was nearly a month ago now. God had not put a check in Tate’s spirit. He’d only given peace.

Mom had returned to her assigned table and was speaking with a young man who apparently sought a position in web design.

Mom. There’d been that late-night talk about love in Gilead a few months ago. Tate had been caught in a trap of his own making, but it was hard to mind. He tilted Stephanie’s chin up and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “We’ll talk later.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

He kissed her again. “No worries, okay? None. Everything will work out just as it should.”

She searched his eyes with something like hope shining in hers. “Really?”