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Now I’m scared, which is the only explanation for what I say next. “I did,” I lie through my teeth while simultaneously asking for forgiveness.
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
Crap. That’s the thing about fibs, they gain momentum and you need a program to keep track of them. I look around my new office as if it holds the answer. “I didn’t want to jinx it this soon.” What? Where is this coming from? Just then, there’s a knock at my door, potentially saving me from further interrogation. I quickly mute my cell, telling the person to enter, then hit the button again to resume my conversation, though I fully intend to end it as soon as I can.
A woman I’ve never seen before – I’d surely never forget her if I had – crosses the threshold and smiles at me. Just like that, I get what my dad felt the second he saw my mom, what Emmett did when he first met Kenna. “Is she the one?”
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation.
“What’s her name?” I’m too busy staring at my future to answer, causing my mom to repeat her question. I draw a blank as to what she’s asking until she continues, helping me focus. “Grady Elias McLean. I need to know how to refer to our soon-to-be daughter-in-law when I tell your father.”
Once more hitting the key on my phone, I ask of the person I haven’t been able to take my eyes off, “What’s your name?”
“Helen,” she replies, her voice soft yet curious as she tilts her head.
For the fourth, and hopefully final time, I select it again, then tell my mom, “Helen.”
**Helen**
I have no idea what’s happening right now. Is this the interview process? He’s clearly talking to somebody else. A business partner perhaps? “I can wait in the hall until you’re done.”
He waves me in, indicating the seat across from him. It’s clear he’s in the very early stages of making this place his own, his only furniture being the chairs we are each sitting in and a desk with nothing on it but a notebook. Realizing he’s trying to get my attention; I give it and wait him out as he listens to the other person. I was not expecting to become a part of it nor of whatever it entails, yet that’s exactly what happens when he hangs up and wants to know, “You aren’t married?” I shake my head no. “Engaged? In a serious relationship?”
“Completely single.” Gah, that came off a bit pathetic.
I swear he says good, though I don’t get a chance to verify it before he’s telling me, “Not anymore. My mom thinks you’re my girl.”
“What now?”
“You don’t want to disappoint her now, do you? Not in her condition.”
That stops my immediate denial. If she’s sick, there’s no harm in letting her believe something if it’ll help ease her concern. “What’s wrong with her?”
As serious as can be, he declares, “She’s ready to kill me if I don’t give her a grandchild.” He holds up a hand as I start to sputter. “Don’t worry, we have time before that becomes an issue. For now, her just knowing I’m getting married is enough.”
“Umm, I’m here to see if there’s an office position available. I’m not looking to fill the role of wife.”
“Consider it a two-for-one, then?” He asks with a boyish grin as the devilish gleam in his eyes belies that. The crazy thing is, I want to accept.
Both.
Chapter Four
Grady
January 13th…
Okay, so propositioning my future spouse by pretending I need her to portray such a role was a bit underhanded. I don’t regret it, though. I knew from one heartbeat to the next that she’s my soulmate. Plus, she agreed. So, there’s that.
She’s due any minute, ready to start her first day. As we aren’t officially open yet, nor has the truck gotten here with the necessary items to do so, it’s more of a getting to know each other kind of thing. Which is probably a fact she’d like to know. I grimace, realizing I’m already failing at winning her over. Thankfully, I did think ahead and order breakfast, which should be delivered within minutes of her getting here. But what if it isn’t to her tastes? I didn’t take that into consideration.
I’m normally quite decisive, but I can’t seem to stop second-guessing myself where Helen is concerned. Not in regards to who she is to me, but as to how to show her that.
Perhaps I should choose a couple other options? Wait, they don’t have third party companies here that’ll drop off your food. I keep forgetting that. I’m so used to the luxury that adapting to not having it will take a bit. But the rewards of this town far outweigh the cons.
When she walks in, the sun shining brightly behind her, I stand, not at all embarrassed I was waiting for her. As she watches me, a hesitant yet hopeful expression on her face, intuition warns me this might not be as smooth a wooing as I’d wished.
“Sorry I’m late.” I know she’s not as I’ve been staring at the clock for the last half hour, counting down until I got to see her again. But when I try to tell her that, she doesn’t seem as inclined to believe me. My dad’s like that. If he’s scheduled to be somewhere at seven, arriving on the dot is late in his opinion. Being at least five minutes early, however, is on time. My mom is the exact opposite, so seeing them compromise when I was younger was more like a comedy of errors. Dad, though? He has her number as much as she has his. He started telling her an hour earlier, therefore, satisfying both their propensities.
