Dylan (Bowen Boys, #3)(40)
“I don’t understand the difference.” She didn’t think he would. “Tell me, Jack, because I want you as my wife for a long time. If this is how it works, then we’re going to do it.”
“Do you love me? I mean, really love me?” He said he did. “But you don’t trust me. Because that’s the only reason I can see that you’d whisk me across town without telling me why. Did you think I’d get there and say ‘well, he’s gone to this much work, I’ll do it’? You have to know me better than that.”
He leaned against the tree near them. “He told me to marry you. Jacob did. He said to marry you today or he couldn’t protect you.”
“I see.” She turned to go back to the house. She didn’t want to start their life together like this. When she took several steps, he said her name. She turned back to him.
“I had it set up for tomorrow. Our getting married. I had my parents come up today so that we’d be all set for tomorrow morning. I have tickets for us.” He reached into his jacket pocket. “See? I bought us tickets to honeymoon in Paris. I wanted everything to be perfect. Monica helped me order flowers; Khan even had my suit dry cleaned. All for tomorrow.”
“We can wait,” she said as she walked back to him. “I can wait until tomorrow if you want to.”
“No. I’ve…I need you, Jack. More than I thought possible, I need you. Having you as my wife one day earlier means I get one more day with you as my bride than if we waited until tomorrow.”
“You’re a sap.” He nodded. “But I love you.” The applause startled them both. She looked at the crowd around them and flushed. They should have been a little more discreet in their argument. Then Dylan picked her up and swung her around to the pleasure of the people around them. Then he put her down and dropped to his knee.
“Jack Crosby, will you please marry me today? I have it all set up so that all you have to do is say ‘yes’ now and ‘I do’ later.” He nodded.
“Go on, girl. The man is getting his pants dirty for you. And he’s too purty of a thing to be all mussed.” The older woman cackled. “Though if I was younger, I’d muss him but good.”
Laughing, Jack said, “Yes.” When Dylan stood up, he kissed her, then went to the older woman and kissed her, as well. They were off again, and this time she was dragging him.
They were all there, all the Bowens, including Monica and the babies. Marshall was there to make sure there were no glitches. Warren sent her three dozen daisies, because she didn’t strike him as a rose sort of woman. And just before the ceremony started, Jacob showed up.
“There you have it. You’ll be a Bowen, and all will be right with the world.” She looked at him and smiled. “You know, don’t you, lass?”
“That you would have saved me anyway?” He winked. “Yes, you old fart. You had to put the fear of losing me into him. But you were wrong. He’d already had it planned for tomorrow.”
Jacob nodded and kissed her on the cheek. After shaking hands with everyone, he left them with a gift. He told them not to open it until they were back to their own home together in Ohio.
Chapter Thirteen
Kirby looked over the letter again. He thought it was all there, but he knew that he’d missed a few things. Finding small mistakes, easily fixed, he was finally finished. Hitting the send button was all he had left to do, so he sat back and looked around the room.
“Christ.” He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there. He thought it might have been only a day, but when he rubbed his hand over his chin he knew it had to have been more. Getting up, he nearly tripped over his own pants. They were hanging on him like he’d lost a great deal of weight. Going to the mirror, he almost didn’t recognize himself.
His eyes were bloodshot and dry. His hair, usually so well kept, looked as if some small rodent had taken up residency in it. It was ratted and all over his head. His face was haggard, cheeks sunken, and whiskers long and curled so that he looked homeless and starved. Pulling off his clothes, meaning to get into the shower, the stench made him gag and his eyes water. He’d lost weight, too. More than he could afford. He looked like he’d not eaten in—
Kirby went to the television that hadn’t been on since the interview he’d seen with Bowen the Bitch. Thumbing through the stations until he found the weather station, he sat down hard on the bed. He had to watch the time and date flash three times over before he could take it in. He’d been there for six days. Six whole days writing and sleeping. Standing up, he went back to the bathroom, turned on the spray to the hottest setting, and went to his luggage. Kirby pulled out his first aid kit and got scissors.
Trying not to look at himself but at the task at hand, Kirby cut away the beard first. He didn’t know enough about his hair to cut it himself, so he debated for several seconds before deciding he’d wait until he got out of the shower. If it still looked horrible, he’d hack at it until he couldn’t any longer. Getting into the stall, he scrubbed his body three times, feeling better with every wash. By the time he got out, he realized he was hungry.
Shaving proved to be exhausting. There was so much hair still on his face that he’d cut himself twice pretty good and had to change out razors halfway through. When he finished he looked marginally better, but not the Kirby Mann that he’d made himself into.