Igniting Sparks (Sparkwood #3)

1. The Husband Clause

The Husband Clause

Mina

“ Y ou want the good news or the bad news?” my mother, Therese, asks as she slides into the chair across from me at One More Page, a strange smile playing on her lips. “Although, I don’t consider either bad.”

Interesting way to start the morning.

Looks like not even the strongest brew from behind the coffee bar is going to help me handle this conversation.

With a sigh and a sip of coffee, I steel myself. “Let’s start with the bad news first.”

“I got an offer on the house. Five thousand over asking price.”

“So, I’m homeless?”

“The new owner is motivated and wants to close right away, but I pushed them off a few weeks.”

“Of course they are.” I rub the bridge of my nose as a headache brews behind my eyes. Still, I know my mother has put off this move for the last few years, mainly because of me.

This is her chance to start over somewhere fresh, far from the boundaries of Sparkwood and her estranged family.

Forcing a smile, I lean over and squeeze her arm. “I’m happy for you, Mom. Better have a guest room in your Virginia house.”

“You’re welcome to stay with Ash and me until you find a place,” Ori interjects from across the table.

I wave my hand, dismissing her sweet offer. My friend and her fiancé are the epitome of a hot and heavy couple. Doesn’t matter that she’s pregnant. If anything, that’s only upped Ash’s affections and their renovated carriage house is not big enough for the three of us and their libido.

“I’ll figure it out. No worries. What’s the good news? You’ve won the lottery and we’re fabulously wealthy?”

My mother chuckles before clapping her hands in girlish delight. “I’ve found you a husband.”

I sputter my coffee, grabbing a napkin to my mouth as I double over in a coughing fit. “You what?”

Ori’s frozen in place, her coffee mere inches from her mouth, her jaw slack. “How very archaic,” she mumbles.

“Ori, would you give me a few minutes with my mom?”

“No way. This I have to hear.”

That makes one of us.

“Although I’m going to live to regret this, who is this mysterious man you wish me to marry?”

My mother takes a slow bite of her muffin, dabbing her napkin at the corner of her mouth. “Greg Mercer.”

That’s it. My mother has officially fallen off the deep end.

My eyes widen. “Greg? As in, my cousin Greg?”

“On that note, I’m leaving.” Ori pushes her chair back, but I grab her wrist and shoot her a death glare.

“Like hell you are. You’re riding this sinking ship with me.”

Just to be clear—my family is normal—and our relations do not involve those kinds of relations.

My mom shoots me an exasperated glance. “Mina, it’s just for show.”

“Why does Mina suddenly need a husband?” Ori inquires .

“It’s part of the stipulation for Mina taking over the dance studio.”

Ori covers her mouth, a bark of laughter escaping. “I thought you were joking when you said that.”

Sadly, I wasn’t.

My great-aunt is a pillar of the community here in Sparkwood, with some questionable ideals about the role a woman should play in society. Skating through life untethered is not an option and, in her estimation, I’m already over the hill at twenty-five.

“Trust me, she’s serious.” My mom pulls out her phone. “She even spelled it out in an email, sent by her attorney, no less.”

“Let me get this straight.” Ori props her elbows on the table and quirks her mouth in a lopsided smirk. “In order for you to take over your aunt’s dance studio, you need to get married? What does one have to do with the other?”

“Not a damn thing,” my mother replies. “It’s Bitsy’s way of exerting control. She failed with me, so she’s hoping to sink her hooks into my daughter.”

“I’d tell her to back the hell up and learn her place,” Ori mutters.

“Seriously, Mom. It’s not worth it.”

“Isn’t it? Mina, this is your chance to return to the world of dance, in a well-established studio with a long list of clients.” My mother grasps my hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’d be set for life—in a way your dad and I could never offer.”

There it is—the guilt bubbling just below my mother’s calm facade. The long-held belief that her marrying a blue-collar mechanic had relegated me to a life of mediocrity.

My mother grew up in the lap of luxury, a beloved member of the Farnsworth family.

Yes, those Farnsworths. The ones who party on yachts and own private islands in the Caribbean. The family who rubs elbows with royalty and celebrities alike.

That’s my family.

Or they were until my mother married my father and the Farnsworth clan disowned her.

Seems the Mercer family, aka my father’s brood, was nowhere near good enough to rub elbows with Sparkwood’s elite.

My mother didn’t care. She followed her heart and abandoned her pedigree.

While my mother grew up in a mansion on the mountainside, I grew up in a Tudor in town. She had a yacht named after her, and I had a canoe my father built.

The funny thing? I had a far happier childhood. Hell, I didn’t know my mother had any family until we ran into them at a town festival when I was five.

My great-aunt Bitsy was curt and cold to me, so I opted to twirl in the grass while my mother engaged in stilted conversation.

That twirling changed everything.

Bitsy noticed my innate grace and balance, something she too possessed after years as a dancer.

But I’d never had a single lesson.

Per her words, I possessed natural talent, and that talent was something she planned to nurture.

So, with my parent’s permission, she enrolled me in her dance studio, and I spent the next seventeen years honing my craft, until that fateful day when my balance didn’t hold and my dreams of a career in dance shattered.

Now, I have a path back to the world I love, but at what cost?

“Forgive me for stating the obvious, but won’t your aunt know you’re trying to pass off your cousin as a husband?” Ori asks, arching her brow at me.

“Greg is on my father’s side. Bitsy doesn’t know any of them. Doesn’t make it any less weird, though.” Huffing out a breath, I twist the napkin in my hands, my anxiety growing by the second. “Shit. I can’t even find a boyfriend, and now I need a husband?”

My mother chews her lip, contemplating our sad array of options. “Ori, what about Ash? Would he step in and help Mina out?”

I snort out a laugh. “That would never work. He’s so in love with Ori that he basically named the speakeasy after her.”

“He named a drink after me—one I’ve yet to sample,” Ori corrects, a smile on her lips as she pats her expanding belly. “And I would lend him to you, Mina, but I think everyone in Sparkwood knows we’re together.”

Talk about timing.

Ash strolls over, dropping a kiss on Ori’s hair. “Who are you lending out?”

Ori tilts her head up for another kiss before motioning to me. “Mina needs a fiancé, remember? Your name came up as a candidate.”

Ash laughs, running a hand over his beard. “Obviously, you ladies have great taste.”

And obviously, Ash Hammond’s ego is loving every second of this.

“But,” he continues, leaning over to steal a bite of Ori’s tart, “I’m taken. However, my younger brother is available. Why don’t you ask him?”

Ori chuckles, fixing me with her dark eyes. “That is a fabulous idea. Braden would be the perfect fiancé.”

“I hate you two right now,” I mutter.

“Why not?” Time for Mom to jump into the conversation. “Braden is a lovely choice. Would he be willing to help you out?”

“I don’t know, and I’m not going to ask him.”

“But why not? ”

“Because she likes him,” Ash interjects, and I’m tempted to lob my half-eaten cinnamon muffin at his head.

“One would think that should be a prerequisite for an engagement.” Seems Mom has switched sides to align with the enemy.

A smirk dances on Ori’s mouth. “Mina likes him too much, which is all the more reason he’s the perfect choice.”

So glad they’re getting so much enjoyment at my expense.

Pushing my chair back, I stand, grabbing my cup and plate.

Time to go scream into a towel in the bathroom and then, maybe I’ll play in traffic for some added fun.

“You know the trouble with Braden? He doesn’t like me back. I’m too young, remember?”

Ash wraps an arm around my shoulder, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Trust me. He likes you, Mina.”

“No, he doesn’t,” I mumble, as a rush of color climbs my face.

The few times I’ve hung out with Braden, my personality has volleyed between a mute wallflower and giddy schoolgirl.

I’m either blushing or giggling, and no doubt the man thinks I’m incapable of clever conversation. Hell, he probably thinks I’m incapable of any conversation.

And if I did ask him, and he said no, which I’m sure he would, I’d just die. Right there on the spot.

Let me tell you, marrying my cousin sounds better by the minute.

“Well, what a small world. Hello Therese. Mina.”

Oh shit. I know that voice. Bitsy Farnsworth herself.

Seems the universe is a comedian today.

I whip around, forcing a grin that borders on deranged. “Aunt Bitsy. You’re a surprise.”

“I heard One More Page has an excellent selection of coffee, so we decided to drop by and sample the wares.”

“We? ”

“You remember your cousin, Vanessa.” Bitsy gestures to the lithe redhead standing behind her.

“Of course.”

In truth, I barely know her outside of the dance world. She was also a pupil of my aunt’s school, although she lacked any genuine talent.

Didn’t stop her from being a menace to me the whole of those years.

I was the worst kind of insult—poor and naturally talented. A charity case who didn’t belong amongst the rich relics of Sparkwood.

Vanessa spent years commenting on every facet of my life—from my secondhand dance gear to my mother’s beat-up SUV.

I got even by winning every dance competition.

Safe to say we’re not friends.

But apparently, my cousin is now bosom buddies with my aunt, which doesn’t bode well for me.

See, Bitsy is as fake as a knockoff Rolex, but she skates by on the Farnsworth name and her ridiculously deep pockets.

I doubt anyone really likes her, but they love her checkbook. They also love what she can do for them.

So, if Vanessa is buddying up to Bitsy, that means she’s eying the dance studio, too.

Fuckity fuck.

I motion to a couple of empty chairs and hand them a menu.

Vanessa’s eyes narrow. “You work here? How quaint.”

“Do you want something or not?” I snap, planting my hands on my hips.

“I’ll take a cappuccino, please. Aunt Bitsy, would you like the same or do you prefer something decaffeinated?”

Bitsy pats Vanessa’s hand. “Always looking out for me. I appreciate that. ”

That’s it. I’m poisoning their damn drinks. Ori will have to understand. This is a matter of life or sanity.

My sanity.

“I didn’t realize you two were close.” Am I digging? Of course. Best to know what I’m up against now.

“Aunt Bitsy and I just got back from a lovely weekend in the city. We attended the ballet and then I told her some of my plans for the studio.”

The blood rushes from my face at her statement.

“I thought you wanted me to take over the studio.” My words emerge forceful and harried, a flash of anger surging through me. “Vanessa barely finished six years of dancing. She’s not qualified.”

Nothing like diving headfirst into the abyss.

Ori catches my gaze and mouths, “I’m over here if you need me,” before she and Ash beat a hasty retreat.

Can’t say I blame them since I’m about five seconds away from a meltdown.

Bitsy quirks a brow at me, none too happy at my outburst. “I’m keeping my options open, Mina. You’re still in the running, but you are aware of my requirements.”

Is this where I mention how many men my cousin has bedded over the years? Because I have receipts, and I’m not afraid to unleash them.

Vanessa may parade about in designer labels, but she’s no lady.

I gesture wildly to my cousin. “Vanessa isn’t getting married.”

“Aren’t I?” And then the bitch hits me with it—a flash of the biggest damn diamond I’ve ever seen, sparkling on her ring finger. “Aunt Bitsy met him on our weekend retreat.”

Bitsy folds her fingers like a steeple and meets my gaze. “He’s the most charming man. Good stock. Works on Wall Street. His family sits on the board of Grayson Industries. ”

Translation? He’s egotistical, spoiled, filthy rich, and a perfect fit for my aunt’s ludicrous demands.

“You’re still single, aren’t you, Mina? Never could find the right man.” Vanessa’s tone is mocking as she gloats at her victory.

Game, set, match, right?

Wrong .

Ever since my mother told me about my aunt’s proposition, I’ve thought of little else. I love that studio, and I know it like the back of my hand. But it’s antiquated and needs a revamp, something to pull it into the 21 st century and make it accessible to all the people of Sparkwood.

I have big plans for that little studio and I’m not going down that easily.

Vanessa wants a fight. I’m ready for some jousting.

“Actually, I’m engaged.” My voice emerges strong and sure, even though my claim is total crap.

I haven’t been on a date in years.

Bitsy’s eyes widen at my disclosure. “Really? How do I not know this bit of information?”

I shrug and return the menus to their holder. “You never call or visit. How would you know?”

“Come on, Mina?—”

But my aunt shushes Vanessa, her attention on me. “Who is he?”

Brain don’t fail me now.

“He’s… wonderful. Very handsome, talented, successful.”

Vanessa glares at me, unconvinced. “Does he have a name?”

She reads through my bullshit much as I read through hers.

But since we’re both playing to win, I’ve got no choice but to keep chasing this rabbit trail.

I motion to the coffee bar. “Let me grab your cappuccinos and a few muffins that just came out of the oven. Then I’ll tell you all about him.”

As soon as I figure out who the hell he is.