The Reluctant Fiancée (The Taylor Triplets Book 3) Read online

  Paul shook his head, not buying Brynne’s excuse for a second, and he worried what it might mean. With each passing month since their postponed wedding, he’d lost a little more of her. Was she finally going to dump him? If so, wasn’t it time to intercede? “We’ve been dating for nearly two years—it’s not like we don’t know each other.” They also had a very satisfying intimate relationship, one he’d never dreamed he’d find with a woman. Sex with his beautiful copper-haired Brynne was beyond compare.

  “We’ve always had busy schedules,” she continued, “what with your classes and my labor and delivery shifts.”

  He loved how she’d prided herself on being an RN at Cedars in the City Hospital, being willing to take any shift thrown her way. She’d always said it was to help save for their wedding. Now he wondered, what wedding? “Yet it’s been even harder since you took over the bookstore.”

  Frustration was obvious in her expression, her eyes evading his. Maybe he was pushing her too hard, but he was desperate to get married, to start their lives together. He’d waited long enough.

  “I’ve already explained I’m on a steep learning curve, just trying not to fall off.”

  In his mind, if she loved him the way he loved her, she’d quit making excuses about one day spending their lives together, and just do it. Now. There was only one way to find out if she felt the way she’d just promised. Well, maybe he wasn’t being the most understanding fiancé in the world, but Brynne could mourn her mother and be married and have his arms to comfort her every night of the week. Didn’t she understand that? He wanted to marry the woman. “Then if you won’t elope, here’s another idea. My final idea.” He wasn’t usually the dramatic type, but some things, like stalling out on their marriage, called for extreme action. He desperately loved her, never wanted to lose her and honestly didn’t know what else to do.

  “It doesn’t have to be big—hell, we can go to the judge’s chambers and sign a license. But if you can’t even agree to that, I don’t know what else to say except...we’re done.” Had he just issued an ultimatum? It’d slipped out of his throat like razors before the idea and its repercussions had fully formed, and now it was too late to take it back. His heart raced and his palms got damp, yet now that he’d said those despicable words—we’re done—he was determined to stand by them, swearing they needed to be said to jolt her out of the resistance. For her to see what she could lose.

  As expected, or at least hoped for, shock overtook her face. His heart sank a little deeper inside. Her crystal-blue eyes first widened with alarm then narrowed with disbelief. A bolt of fear arrowed straight to his chest. What if she leaves me? Now his upper lip went moist, and panic set it. He’d done a terrible thing, and if the shoe had been on the other foot, he’d have been pissed. Really pissed. But wasn’t that what she needed, an emotional shakeup to snap her out of it? All he could do was hope he hadn’t completely blown it, or prepare to grovel if he had.

  “You’re dropping one hell of a bombshell,” she muttered, clearly baffled and defeated, when he’d expected her anger.

  He needed to walk it back. “I’m sorry, but I’m standing by it.” Yet for some crazy reason, he’d doubled down instead! Damn, he was desperate.

  He felt like a total tool, leaning so hard on her about their engagement and marriage at such a difficult time in her life, but it was too late. He’d said the words, and she’d recoiled instead of fighting back. A bad sign. Yet history always proved winners were those who stayed on course. If they were truly in a battle for their love, he’d fight and fight hard to win. To win her.

  She glanced at her watch, a disturbing stillness settling over her. What would he do if he lost her?

  Grovel. Definitely. Until she took him back.

  “And you know perfectly well we met early for dinner because I have to get back to the bookstore to set up for the monthly author readings.” She’d clammed up avoiding the subject and ignoring their huge problem, and it was his fault for pushing too hard.

  “Which means?” he asked tenderly, hoping to keep the line of communication open, even after being the one who slammed the door.

  “I have to go.”

  Couldn’t she see there were other ways around this martyr role? “Another perfectly easy job to delegate to one of your university student employees.” Evidently tonight, while thinking one way, with love filling his heart, everything that left his mouth showed no mercy. A true sign of a mixed-up and desperate man.

  “Not so.” She bristled, finally showing some emotion. “There’s a lot more to do than just set up chairs.” She was angry, and he was in her line of fire. At last. Maybe she’d finally take notice how frustrated and hopeless he’d become with their situation.

  “I was just making a suggestion.” His Italian family was big on theatrics and loud debates, but he’d learned to tone things back with the quiet and tenderhearted Brynne. Guilt ran roughshod over his hard-core sneak attack. He’d let his feelings and fears take over and had caused pain to the person he loved more than anything or anyone in his life. His gut coiled tight as he frantically searched for a way to make things immediately better.

  She inhaled and forced a quick recovery. “I wish we had more time to talk, but I’ve got to leave.” She stood while he wrestled for a way to smooth things over. “Thank you for dinner.” Half of which she’d left on her plate, having not taken a bite since he’d brought up the mother of all touchy subjects: their wedding.

  He tipped his head, holding his breath.

  She stepped closer to him before he had a chance to get up, bent and gave his cheek a chaste kiss. “’Bye,” she whispered above his ear, when he’d expected a screw you. Though that wasn’t her way—he knew as much, even though he deserved it.

  They hadn’t accomplished anything today.

  His hand shot to her wrist and grasped it, holding her there while he stood. “I’m sorry I’ve upset you,” he said, cupping her face. “I love you so much—don’t ever forget that.” Then he kissed her with all the passion stirred up by their situation. A desperate and demanding kiss took over, and she seemed instantly all in. Paul didn’t give a damn about their public display of far more than affection. If people wanted a show, he’d give them one. His pulse shot up when her arms clamped around his middle as she leaned into him and deepened the kiss. Maybe he hadn’t lost her today.

  Too soon, she pulled away, her cheeks pink and nostrils flaring with each breath. He’d made her breathless. Good. “I’ve got to go.”

  He tenderly tucked a curl he’d loosened while they’d kissed behind her ear. Surely she could see the love in his eyes, see how desperate he was to marry her. To prove he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life.

  “We’re not done with this conversation.” He spoke quietly before releasing her and walking her to the exit, evidently more than willing to be the guy who, when his back was against the wall, knew how to fight dirty. Even as he worried and every cell in his body tensed that he’d gone about this ultimatum business completely wrong.

  “Oh, I think we are.” She turned just before stepping outside. “You’ve left me no choice.”

  Fantastic, his ultimatum had worked!

  “I can’t marry you now. So consider the engagement over,” she said, then rushed through the door.

  Stunned, it took a moment or two for her words to sink in. The engagement was over? His plan had completely backfired. He lunged toward the door, but a big, youthful waiter grabbed his arm.

  “You haven’t paid, sir,” he said, voice deep to match his size and the strength of his grip.

  Paul dug in his pockets to find his wallet, grabbed a wad of cash and pushed it at him, then sprinted for the door. “Brynne!” he yelled as he took two steps down at a time, and she backed out of her parking spot. “Brynne!” he called again as he ran toward the car that pushed on the gas and nearly fishtailed out of the driveway.r />
  * * *

  Lacy Taylor Winters, now Gardner, had never been to Utah before. Though nearly eight months pregnant, she’d insisted on accompanying Zack on the road trip to St. George to meet her in-laws on his dad’s seventieth birthday. Now, a week after the celebration, and having loved every minute of meeting his family, they’d taken a detour to Cedars in the City. It was the day before they were set to leave for home, and Lacy had a chance for an afternoon by herself. Finally! Too bad she’d had to deal with those pesky Braxton-Hicks contractions all morning.

  Zack and Emma were taking a father-daughter hike, and once Lacy dropped them off at the trailhead, she took the opportunity to explore the historic downtown area. Almost immediately after parking, she saw a sign on the front of a beige brick building—Taylor’s Bookstore. With Taylor being the middle name she and her twin shared, how could she not go in?

  Deciding to work her way around to it, she first stopped into a touristy trinket shop to find something fun for her eleven-year-old stepdaughter, Emma. After making a purchase, she stepped outside to the golden late-afternoon sun, enjoying the huge surrounding hills and mountains covered in cedars and the freshest air she’d ever inhaled. Her enthusiasm must’ve woken the baby, who actively shifted positions, which set off another Braxton-Hicks contraction. Correction. Another in a series of Braxton-Hicks contractions. Par for the course these days. Since having them all morning, she really needed to notice if they were regular.

  After a moment of standing still, holding her ever-growing baby belly, waiting for things to settle down, she continued window-shopping on Main Street. She had a whole month in her favor—why time these expected contractions when all they were good for was a preview of what would come? Next month. But when a second, stronger Braxton-Hicks kicked in, she opted to walk across the street to the park and sit for a while. Wasn’t that what she’d learned about those annoying dress-rehearsal type contractions? If you’re being active and they happen, take it easy. If you’re resting and they happen, get up and move around. And always make sure you’re not dehydrated, which is the number one cause for setting them off. At over five thousand feet elevation, walking in the sun, that was likely to happen.

  After drinking a bottle of water and feeling refreshed, with the contractions calming down, she headed back down Main Street, her eyes still on the prize of that book shop.

  Joe Aguirre, her twin sister Eva’s husband, had helped them track down a woman named Jessica Taylor to this part of the country. She was a person of interest in their search for their surrogate mother. Granted, Taylor was a common name, but wasn’t this bookstore a coincidence? Or maybe a sign. Of course, that wasn’t the reason for this trip. Zack’s parents and family were. The search for a long-lost birth mother was just an interesting aside, and they happened to be in the same county, so why not?

  Ouch! Those dang contractions were becoming a nuisance, and now that she was far from the park, with the baby pressing down on her bladder, she needed a bathroom. All bookstores had them, right? Rushing—as fast as a pregnant woman in the middle of the third trimester could—toward Taylor’s Bookstore, her only goal was to make it in time to use the bathroom without leaking.

  She checked her watch as she strode straight toward the glass door. Hmm, it had only been two minutes since the last one. The old brick building was two stories, and she prayed the bathroom would be on the first floor. No way could she take the stairs or wait for an elevator right now. She needed a bathroom!

  Pushing through the doors, she spied an older woman behind the counter on the right who seemed to be reading. The woman had bobbed nearly black hair that had a wide silver swath across the front and wore red Harry Potter–style glasses on the edge of her pointy nose. A long line of shoulder-high book and magazine shelves divided the entrance, where Lacy was, from the purchasing aisle, where the woman sat.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” Lacy asked, trying not to sound urgent.

  The store clerk glanced up then quickly back at her reading material. Lacy was pretty sure it was a magazine. “Where it always is, darlin’” came the odd reply.

  How rude. Didn’t she know this was an emergency? Her glare darted around the store, there, straight back on the left. Lacy didn’t have a moment to spare to call out the bookstore clerk. She’d deal with it on her way out when she made her purchases, which would be inevitable. After all, it was a bookstore.

  Dashing the last few feet, praying the bathroom was more than a one-stall deal, or if it was, that it was at least vacant, she lunged, stretching her hand out to the doorknob, then twisted and flung open the door.

  She didn’t have to wait. Thank heavens!

  * * *

  Brynne was so angry, she’d had a stomachache the entire drive to the bookstore. An ultimatum? From Paul? She never would’ve believed it. Yet he’d said it and didn’t back down, even though he first looked as shocked as she felt hearing the words. Soon, though, his eyes had hardened, and he looked so determined—desperate, even—that she’d been stunned. He’d thrown her off, knowing she had to leave, then threw another curve when he’d kissed her like he might never see her again.

  That’s when her mind snapped. How dare he do this to her while she was still in mourning?

  Had she really broken the engagement? Her anger at Paul’s despicable dare renewed with vengeance—you bet she had! And as soon as she had the chance, she’d take off the ring.

  She’d left the restaurant in a red-hot haze, and with each mile closer to the bookstore, the anger turned to fury. Who did he think he was? Where was his compassion? He’d been so wonderfully understanding all these months, then suddenly today he’d turned on her. An ultimatum? He could stick it.

  The thought of adding a wedding to her plate of responsibilities nearly sent her driving off the road. Couldn’t he understand life was complicated now, and when things settled down, then she’d reconsider marrying him? But right now, the last thing she needed was his pressuring her to tie the knot. Who was this man, demanding a marriage one moment and kissing her senseless the next?

  Frustration boiling over, she let go a scream as she careened down the hills.

  Finally arriving in town, still unnerved and jittery, she absentmindedly parked in front of the store instead of in the reserved stall in the back. That spot being the prized perk that came with the apartment above the bookstore. When she realized what she’d done, unwilling to correct her error as though it was one offense too many to deal with for the day, she stubbornly put some money in the meter and strode inside. One more thing to deal with later—move the dang car before she got a parking ticket.

  Had she really broken up with Paul? She shook her head, let it sink in. Apparently, yes, she had. But where was the relief? From where she stood, every single thing felt worse.

  From behind the counter, Rory looked over her red readers, did a double take and made a weird expression, which contorted her large agape mouth.

  “What?” Brynne couldn’t help sounding curt, but seriously, too much was going on. She didn’t need to be looked at as if she’d grown two heads when she had a fiancé giving her an ultimatum and she still needed to arrange everything for the book readings later, due to Rory’s bad back. At least Nate was coming in to help.

  Lessons learned from being a nurse—her usual reaction to stress was to focus on one thing at a time, and right now it was the bookstore. Paul was left compartmentalized in the restaurant, with a shocked expression. Let him stew in his little ultimatum scheme. Now she was on the job and needed to focus. These book events drove more people to the store and kept them coming back, which meant more book sales. Bringing in the local students broke the pattern—instead of always making the university bookstore their go-to for reading material, they could come here. The key was to offer them something different, like author readings. Especially by authors of YA, Fantasy, and the occasional romance book. The effort would be wort
h it.

  “Aren’t you in the bathroom?” Rory said with an incredulous tone, still looking as though Brynne had arrived from outer space instead of the front door.

  “What?” Brynne knew Rory was still lost without Mom, but had she gone off her rocker?

  “Except your hair was down,” Rory uttered, obviously confused and barely audible.

  “Have you had a stroke?” Brynne had had it with the day. Things were simply too weird to deal with.

  Rory came around the counter to look closer at Brynne just when they heard a loud moan in the bathroom that quickly escalated into a cry. “No!”

  “What’s going on in there?” Concerned, Brynne hiked her thumb toward the bathroom.

  “You came in asking for the bathroom,” Rory said, clearly not herself.

  “I did not.”

  “I must be seeing things,” Rory mumbled.

  Brynne bolted toward the bathroom door and knocked hard, Rory right behind her. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” the quivery voice said. “I think my water just broke.”

  What else would happen today? Brynne forced herself into nurse mode, letting every other crazy little thing go. “I’m a labor and delivery nurse.” Or used to be. “Open the door so I can have a look, okay?”

  A second or two of silence passed, then the lock clicked, the handle turned and the door slowly opened. Concerned about a pregnant woman just having her water break, Brynne’s first glance was to the floor and the pool of fluid for verification. It wasn’t bloody. Good.

  “Holy doppelgänger,” Rory exclaimed from behind her.

  Chapter Two

  Stunned by the woman in front of her, Brynne gasped at coming face-to-face with her mirror image. Who was in labor! “Who are you?” she managed to ask, though her mind was doing loop-de-loops.