Page 66 of Winter Vows

Her father didn’t seem any more surprised by the revelation than her mother had been months ago. To her fury he waved it off as if it were a minor inconvenience, no more important than a difference of opinion over how to squeeze toothpaste from the tube.

“Sowing his wild oats,” he said, dismissing Jack’s indiscretion as if the man weren’t even in the room to speak in his own defense. “I’m sure he’s sorry, aren’t you, Jack?”

Without giving Jack time to reply, her father went right on trying to bulldoze over Trish’s objections. Jack was beginning to look a little green around the gills, in Trish’s opinion, which made her wonder what her father had done to get him here. Still, he never even tried to voice an objection. The truth was, Jack never took a stand for or against anything that mattered. Obviously he wanted that promised vice presidency too badly.

“No,” Trish said again. “You’re not listening to me, Daddy. This wedding is not going to happen.”

Her father frowned, more at the interruption, no doubt, than her declaration.

“Forget it,” she said, just to make her point one more time.

“Why are you stubbornly clinging to the past?” he demanded. “What’s done is done.”

“This isn’t about the past,” she retorted.

“Then what is it about?”

“Me,” a familiar voice declared, startling all three of them. Hardy stood in the doorway, his eyes flashing sparks. He was dressed all in black, just the way she liked him best, but there was no question about him being the hero of the hour. “It’s about me. Trish is going to marry me.”

Trish’s mouth gaped. Jack looked relieved. Bryce Delacourt stared.

“Who the hell are you?” her father demanded.

Trish rallied, grateful that once more Hardy was there when she needed him. She knew in her heart he was the kind of man who always would be.

“Daddy, this is Hardy Jones.” She took Hardy’s callused hand in her own and squeezed. “My fiancé.”

Fifteen

Hardy could tell that Trish thought he was just putting on an act for her father’s benefit, but he’d never been more serious in his life. Standing in the doorway, listening to Bryce Delacourt’s commands and watching that sleazy Jack Grainger turn greener with every word his prospective father-in-law uttered had solidified his resolve.

He’d taken one look at Laura’s wimpy father and seen red. That gussied-up stranger was not going to take his family away from him. He’d lost a lot of people he’d loved, but with a sudden flash of insight, he’d realized that he didn’t need to lose Trish, that hecouldn’tlose her. He’d planned on waiting until the house was finished, until he had something to offer her, but Kelly’s warning about the arrival of Trish’s father had spurred him into action.

Heart pounding, he had raced all the way in from the pasture where she had found him working with Harlan Patrick. He hadn’t even stopped to worry about the impression of pure desperation he was leaving with his friend and Kelly, a reaction that would no doubt be spread around White Pines by nightfall. The gossip was the least of his concern at this point.

Instead, he’d stood there trying to calm the frantic racing of his pulse, listening to Delacourt making plans for his daughter, riding roughshod over Trish’s objections. All it had taken was a sign from Trish that she didn’t want Jack Grainger, and Hardy had been more than eager to jump into the fray. He’d already heard her vehement protests from a hundred yards away, which made it all the more difficult to understand why her father couldn’t grasp what she was saying when they were in the very same room. Hardy stepped forward and held out his hand to Delacourt. “Sir, I’m Hardy Jones. I’m pleased to meet you. I know how much Trish respects your opinion, so I’m hoping you’ll give us your blessing.”

The older man still appeared stunned by the sudden turn of events, but he was too much of a businessman to ignore an outstretched hand. He finally shook Hardy’s hand. “Good to meet you.”

Then he turned his gaze on Trish, regarding his daughter with a mix of disbelief and resignation. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Absolutely.”

She said it with such fervor that Hardy almost believed she really meant it. He took her hand again and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Delacourt glanced at the once-prospective bridegroom, whose color had finally returned. “Sorry, Jack,” he said gruffly. “I never meant to put you in an uncomfortable position. If I’d known what was going on in Trish’s head, I wouldn’t have insisted you come along.”

Trish beamed at Jack, too. “I’m sure you agree that this is for the best,” she told her former fiancé. “Now if you’ll both excuse me. I need to go upstairs and check on Laura.” She glanced at her father. “Would you like to meet your granddaughter?”

“Of course,” he said, starting from the room after her.

Grainger cleared his throat. “Would you mind...could I see her, too?”

To Hardy he sounded as if it were a duty he dreaded, rather than a joy to be embraced. He dropped another notch in Hardy’s estimation.

“Certainly,” Trish said. “She is your daughter, Jack. Whether you play a role in her life is up to you.”

“Before you go upstairs, there’s one thing I’d like to say,” Hardy said, needing to make his own intentions perfectly clear. He directed his gaze straight at Grainger. “Neither of you men know me, but I want you to know that I couldn’t love Laura more if she were my own. I’ll be the best father she could possibly have, so you can rest easy on that score.” Delacourt nodded approvingly. Grainger flushed as if he guessed that Hardy was warning him away.

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