Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“Could you do me a favor?” Tony cleared his throat and glanced sideways at Claire.
“I’m already doing you one,” she said, her voice light but with an edge. “Pretending to be your fiancée puts you in my debt. Big-time.”
He smiled, but there was tension behind it. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted up the stairs, and Tony stiffened.
Claire tilted her head. “Okay, spit it out. What’s the favor?”
He shifted, uncomfortable. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way…”
She rolled her eyes. “Just say it.”
“You’re a beautiful woman.” He paused. “You respond to men, and they respond to you. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that.”
She raised a brow. “Your point?”
“I’d just appreciate it if you didn’t flirt tonight.” His words came in a rush. “It’s innocent, I know—but I wouldn’t want the church council getting the wrong idea.”
Claire stared at him. That’s all? With his navy chinos and madras shirt, Tony looked more like a GQ model than a small-town pastor. He was the one who should be careful.
Still… something about his tone—genuine, worried—softened her.
She leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek, watching the tension in his jaw ease. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
* * *
Claire took a sip of ginger ale and wrinkled her nose. If ever there was an occasion that called for a glass of Merlot, this was it. She scanned the room for Mrs. Sandy but the woman buzzed past with a harried expression and a plate of deviled eggs.
Claire considered calling after her but thought better of it. The woman had been kind—had let her use the shower in the maid’s quarters and hadn’t said a word about the extra towels. If Claire could get her father to wire some money, maybe Mrs. Sandy would reconsider keeping that room open.
“How do you like Millville?” a warm voice asked.
Claire turned. A woman with mousy brown hair and a sweet, open expression eased into the seat across from her.
“You’re Dottie, right?”
The woman flushed with pleasure. “I’m surprised you remembered.”
“Your husband owns the hardware store. You had your first baby six months ago.”
Dottie blinked. “I wish I had your memory. I’ve lived here almost a year and still struggle with names.”
“Where did you live before?”
Claire didn’t care all that much, but Dottie was the first woman who’d made an effort to talk to her. Since she’d promised Tony she wouldn’t flirt, that left her with limited social options.
“John grew up here. We met in college, stayed in Denver for eight years, then moved back.”
Claire perked up. “Where’d you go to school?”
“University of Denver.”
“No way!” Claire’s eyes widened. “I graduated from there.”
They smiled, surprised by the connection. Though Dottie was older and clearly from a different social orbit, it was oddly comforting to find common ground. Talk turned to bistros near campus and an English professor both women had endured.
Dottie was no one Claire would have noticed in another setting—but tonight, she was grateful for her quiet company.
“You doing okay?” Tony’s voice drifted over her shoulder. He stood behind her, one hand resting lightly against her shoulder. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver along her spine.
Claire looked up and smiled. “I’m fine. How about you?”
“Great. I’m enjoying meeting everyone.”
“Dottie and I were just talking about the University of Denver,” Claire added.
Tony blinked, then smiled. “Right.”
Across the room, a tall man waved him over.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said.
“Take your time.” And for once, she meant it.
As Tony moved away, Dottie’s gaze lingered on him. “He sure is handsome. But then, you’re beautiful. You two make a perfect couple.”
Claire’s lips curved. Dottie was right—they were the best-looking couple in the room.
Or at least they had been.
Until Jocelyn Wingate made her entrance.
Willowy, blonde, and effortlessly stylish, Jocelyn floated toward them. Claire’s smile tightened.
They’d already been introduced. Jocelyn had wasted no time mentioning her husband Adam’s position on the church council. And, oh yes—he was the mayor. Of Millville.
Cue the fireworks.
“Claire!” Jocelyn dropped into a nearby chair like they were old friends. “I’ve talked my little brains out—I’m exhausted.”
Claire raised a brow. Why had she promised Tony she’d be good tonight?
“I saw you over here all by your lonesome and thought I’d join you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw Dottie flush. Jocelyn’s comment was more than careless—it was calculated.
“Dottie and I were talking,” Claire said smoothly.
Jocelyn turned, eyes wide. “Why, I didn’t even see you there.”
Dottie sipped her tea with a pleasant smile. “Really? I’ve been here the whole time.”
Claire’s respect for her inched upward.
“You’re lucky you blend in so easily,” Jocelyn said with a laugh. “I couldn’t fade into the woodwork if I tried.”
Something sharp twisted in Claire’s chest—not because Jocelyn was wrong, but because of how casually she’d dismissed the woman beside her. It hit a little too close to home.
She glanced at Dottie and smiled.
“How do you like Millville so far?” Jocelyn asked.
“I haven’t seen much of it,” Claire said, more curtly than intended. “I just got here today.”
“Let me give you some advice,” Jocelyn leaned in, tone conspiratorial. “Don’t expect too much, and you won’t be disappointed.”
Claire stifled a laugh.
“Millville is a wonderful town,” Dottie said, bristling.
“Spoken like a true Chamber of Commerce member,” Jocelyn teased. “You sound just like Adam. He keeps saying I’ll fall in love with it. Six years in, I’m still waiting.”
Before Dottie could protest further, Claire jumped in. “You’re not from here?”
“Chicago.” Jocelyn flashed a smile. “Adam and I met at Northwestern.”
“A friend of mine went there—Kelly St. John. You wouldn’t?—”
“Oh my goodness!” Jocelyn clasped a hand to her chest. “Kelly and I used to hang out all the time.”
The conversation took off. As it turned out, Adam had interned at one of Claire’s father’s companies. They knew dozens of the same people.
“It’s such a small world,” Jocelyn said. “I can’t believe how much we have in common.”
It was true. But somehow… Claire still liked Dottie more.
And, strangely, more than she liked herself.
She looked at Dottie now, who sat quietly, her bright smile faltering. Claire widened her own to include both women.
“It is amazing how we’ve all connected,” she said warmly.
“We have to go out soon,” Jocelyn announced. “Dinner in Des Moines, or maybe a picnic.”
“Either sounds better than sitting around doing nothing,” Claire said. “Dottie?”
Dottie hesitated. Claire gave her a gentle nudge.
“I’ll have to ask John,” Dottie said. “But I’m sure it’ll be okay. As long as I can get a sitter.”
“What are you ladies plotting?” Adam Wingate joined them, smile polished and politician-smooth.
“I told Claire and Dottie we need a girls’ night,” Jocelyn said. “Maybe we’ll let you tag along if you’re lucky.”
“A picnic would be nice,” Dottie offered. “Fried chicken, potato salad…”
Claire blinked. She plans to make it herself?
“We could use the cabin at Hampton Lake,” Jocelyn added. “Bring the boat.”
“Sounds great,” Adam said. “It’ll give us a chance to get to know the new pastor better. And—” he smiled at Claire “—his bride-to-be.”
“Whose bride?” Tony’s voice came from behind her.
“Your beautiful fiancée is filling your social calendar,” Adam said with a laugh.
Tony’s gaze met Claire’s, warm with approval. “Whatever Claire decides is fine with me. I’m free.”
“Pastor, could you come over here a minute?” Mrs. Sandy called from across the room. “You too, Mr. Mayor.”
As they stepped away, Dottie rose. “Excuse me—I need to call the sitter.”
Claire watched her go, then turned back to Jocelyn. “Adam seems like a good guy.”
“He is,” Jocelyn said, and something in her eyes softened. “Everyone loves him. His family’s been here five generations. He’s one of them.”
She gave a wistful smile.
“I, on the other hand…”
“Let me guess.” Claire lifted her glass. “You’re the outsider.”
Jocelyn nodded. “I don’t usually have trouble fitting in. But here…” She trailed off. “Sometimes I wonder if I ever will.”
Claire studied her. For all her polish and social polish, Jocelyn was still struggling to belong.
“If they don’t like you,” Claire said, “that’s their loss.”
“Exactly.” Jocelyn clinked her glass against Claire’s. “I’m glad you’re moving here. I think we could be good friends.”
Surprisingly, Claire found herself nodding. She just wouldn’t be here long enough to find out.
She let her gaze sweep the room—observing, calculating.
“Tell me what you know about the people here tonight,” she said, settling back in her chair. “And don’t leave anything out.”
* * *
“What’d your dad say?” Tony pulled up a chair next to Claire and sat down.
“Not a whole lot.” She glanced around and changed the subject. “Where’s the landlady?”
“In bed. Said to tell you goodnight. She was dead on her feet.”
It was nearly midnight. The guests had long since left, and Claire had been on the phone with her father while Tony helped Mrs. Sandy clean up.
“I’m surprised she went to bed before dawn. That woman’s a machine.”
“I think she has to be.” He watched her carefully. “Claire… how did the call go?”
She shrugged, studying her crimson nails.
Tony reached for her hand. “What did he say?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She pulled her hand back and swiped her hair off her face. “I’d kill for a couple of Dove bars right now.”
“Dove bars?”
“Sometimes a woman just needs chocolate.” She exhaled. “This is one of those times.”
“You want me to check Mrs. Sandy’s freezer?”
“I already did. All she has are ice-milk bars.” Claire made a face. “Why even bother?”
“What did he say?” Tony leaned in gently. He wasn’t letting her dodge this one.
“Nothing I didn’t already know.” She rose and moved to the window, her back to him. “He said I was a disappointment. Asked how a man could succeed in every other part of his life and still fail at raising a daughter.”
His heart clenched. “Claire…”
“How do you think that made me feel?” She spun around, eyes flashing. “He didn’t even ask if I was okay. Just said he had a conference call and needed to keep the line open.”
Tony chose his words with care. “I’m sure he loves you. Maybe it was just bad timing.”
“I should’ve known you’d take his side,” she snapped. “You men always stick together.”
“I’m not taking his side.” He paused. “Did you ask him about the money?”
She nodded.
“I asked.” Her voice was clipped.
“And?”
“He said no. Didn’t ask why I needed it. Didn’t ask how I was. Just kept going on about his stupid meeting.”
Tony’s chest tightened. There was so much he wanted to say—but he sensed now wasn’t the moment for logic or comfort. He patted the cushion beside him.
“Sit with me?”
She crossed her arms, clearly debating.
“Come on,” he coaxed, flashing a grin. “I promise I won’t bite.”
With a dramatic sigh, she relented and eased down beside him. The light scent of her perfume drifted around him, soft and floral.
“You smell great.”
Claire let out a bitter laugh. “According to Daddy, that’s all I’m good for—looking good, smelling good, being some guy’s trophy.”
“I can’t believe he said that.”
She tilted her head. “Maybe not in so many words. But the meaning was clear.”
Tony frowned. “He knows what you’re capable of. You practically ran his advertising department.”
“That doesn’t count.” Her voice was low. “I was working for him. That’s not the ‘real world.’”
“What about your work in D.C.?”
She shrugged. “Probably chalked that up to dumb luck.”
“Did you tell him about us?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Not that us meant what it sounded like.
“He didn’t care. Gave it three weeks—said either I’d be sick of you by then or you’d be sick of me.” She laughed without humor. “Said he’s seen it happen too many times before.”
Tony reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “Then we’ll prove him wrong.”
Claire raised a brow. “You think we could last four weeks without killing each other?”
“Four weeks?” He smiled. “Piece of cake.”
Her laugh was lighter this time, more real. “It’d be a record for me.”
“I know you’d rather be anywhere else,” he said quietly. “But I’m glad you’re staying.”
“Of course you are.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “The longer I’m here, the better it is for you.”
That was true—but it wasn’t the whole truth. Not even close.
“I mean it. You did great tonight.”
“I nearly went into withdrawal,” she teased. “No deep voices, no sports talk, no flirty fun. I’m not used to hanging out with women.”
“Adam said Jocelyn warmed up to you faster than she has anyone else. And Dottie told John you were wonderful.”
“Careful,” Claire said, mock-serious. “I might start believing I have hidden depths.”
Tony studied her. “You have a headache, don’t you?”
She winced. “Talking to my father will do that.”
“Miss Waters, this is your lucky night. I know exactly what you need.” He dimmed the light. “Slide a little closer.”
She gave him a sidelong look. “Is this part of your pastoral care training?”
“Not officially,” he said. “But you can trust me.”
He turned her shoulders gently, his fingers sliding beneath the silk collar of her blouse and massaging the tension in her neck. Slowly, her muscles began to loosen.
“Mmm. So this is what you meant.”
“What else?” he murmured, amused.
Minutes passed. Her head lolled slightly, a small smile on her lips. She looked utterly content.
“See?” he whispered. “There are some benefits to Millville.”
“And to being your fiancée?” she asked lazily, her eyes fluttering open.
His lips brushed her ear. “That too.”
“You’re not playing fair.” Her gaze darkened.
“I’m not playing at all.” He turned her face to his and kissed her softly. “I like you, Claire.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Tony pulled her closer, kissing her more deeply this time—slowly, reverently. “You’re a wonderful woman,” he said, breathless. “Don’t let your father—or anyone—tell you otherwise.”
“You’re a nice guy.” Her voice was soft. “This town would be crazy not to want you.”
He smiled. Crazy, maybe—but he could see why the council preferred married pastors. A partner by your side wasn’t just comforting. It was powerful.
Still, he reminded himself—he could serve God single or married.
“Actually,” he added, “what’s crazy is us kissing on the couch like a couple of high schoolers.”
“Please.” Claire’s lips curled. “These kisses are barely PG. About as thrilling as kissing your brother.”
“Kissing me is like kissing a brother?” His eyebrows shot up.
She nodded solemnly. “Uh-huh.”
He turned her toward him, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her again—this time thoroughly.
She didn’t resist.
He was still holding her close when he heard the creak on the stairs.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
Tony jerked back.
Claire’s cheeks flushed as they turned toward the voice.
April stood in the doorway, arms folded, a smirk on her lips. “The minister and the maid. Sounds like a bad romance novel.”
Tony grinned, recovering. “It does have a certain ring. Although I’m not sure where the ‘maid’ part comes in.”
“Didn’t Mom tell you?” April’s smile widened as her gaze settled on Claire. “Claire’s our new maid.”