She lowered the volume on the radio. “For the same reasons I keep coming back. My family lives here. And I know everyone.”
“Those are bad things?”
“My father can be…a bit overbearing and opinionated.”
He’d already gotten that impression.
“And when you know everyone, there’s no chance to break out and be anything other than what people expect,” she added. “It can be…confining.” She rolled her eyes. “Then there’s the inevitable gossip.”
“I can’t imagine you’ve ever been gossiped about. You always play by the rules.” He glanced over to see if she’d refute that statement.
“I’ve had my less-than-stellar moments.”
“Name one.”
“No, thanks. Those incidents were painful enough when they happened. No need to relive them.” She rummaged through her purse and came up with a pack of gum. “Now that we’re married, there will, of course, be more gossip.”
“Unlike you, I’m used to being gossiped about.” He shook his head when she offered him a piece. “I don’t think I could feel at home anywhere I wasn’t the center of attention,” he teased.
“Then you’ll feel right at home here.” She tossed him a grin. “Anyway, I had to leave. There’s not much opportunity in Whiskey Creek for a PR firm.”
“What about in Sacramento? According to the signs I’ve seen, it isn’t far.”
“It’s still an hour, which makes for a long commute. Unless you want to run one of the stores around here, or maybe a B and B, and we already have two, you’re pretty much out of luck in the business world.”
He nodded toward A Room with a View Bed and Breakfast, a quaint Victorian perched prominently on Main Street, where the road made a ninety-degree turn. “Tell me we can stay there,” he said, but he knew it wasn’t likely that she’d change her mind. She’d told him they’d be staying with her father until they could find a rental. He’d heard her confirm it on the phone earlier. He was going to be Martin DeMarco’s guest even though he wasn’t particularly welcome.
“We have to stay at my dad’s, at least for a day or two, or he’ll never forgive us,” she explained.
“Us? He doesn’t want me there.”
“I can’t let him reject you. We’re married. We’re a package.”
“I’m being rescued by a girl.” He sighed. “I can’t believe my life has come down to this.”
If he thought she’d give him a bit of sympathy, he was mistaken. “I hope it’s as humbling as it should be,” she said.
“Good thing my ego is all but indestructible.” He let his gaze stray to the V of her tan dress, which had distracted him all day. As much as he didn’t want to find his new “wife” too appealing—they both knew their relationship would best be handled as simply a business transaction—he was intrigued on a number of levels. Mostly, he liked her mind. He’d always admired her quick thinking and no-nonsense, honest approach to life, or he wouldn’t have hired her as his PR agent. But there was something more, something about her that just felt…right. She inspired him.
If that was the extent of it, the next two years should progress uneventfully. But in the past few days he’d actually been wondering why he’d never noticed how flawless her skin was. Or how her lips quirked endearingly to one side when she was trying to tell him he was full of bullshit.
“Stop it,” she said, nudging his shoulder.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“Just because you’re wearing sunglasses, don’t think I can’t tell what you’re looking at.”
It was their wedding kiss, he decided. Ever since she’d drawn back almost as soon as their lips touched, he’d been preoccupied with kissing her again. But that wasn’t a welcome realization. If he wasn’t careful, he’d drag her down before she could pull him up.
“I’m happy to hang out on my own at the B and B, if I’m bothering you,” he said.
“Nice try, but I’m not going to my father’s without you.”
The reminder of what they would soon face quashed his libido. “How difficult is Mr. DeMarco?” he asked, slowing for a traffic signal.
“What do you mean?”
The light turned green before he had to stop. “He’s never been abusive with you....”
“No. I hope I didn’t give you that impression. He’s a good man, a really good man. It’s just that he expects so much of me, and is so easily disappointed. The…force of his personality can be hard to take.”
Simon considered that and grimaced. “I don’t do well with authority figures.”
She didn’t attempt to convince him otherwise. That was another thing that made her different. If she said something he could believe it. “No kidding.”
He adjusted his seat to give himself more legroom. “So…how do you think this is going to work?”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “At the very least it’ll be interesting.”
Besides the B and B, they passed an antiques store called Eureka Treasures, Black Gold Coffee, Whiskey Creek Five and Dime, 49er Sweets and a smattering of mom-and-pop-style restaurants, including a diner called Just Like Mom’s that could’ve come right out of the 1960s. There wasn’t one fast-food joint or chain grocery store that Simon could see, which made this town and others in the area different from most.
Farther down the street there was a post office, a bike store named Crank It Up and a barbershop, complete with the traditional pole.
“When do we get our own house?” He came to the second stoplight and glanced over to see some flyers taped in the window of Harvey’s Hardware. One advertised a tour of a nearby gold mine. Another enticed visitors to go spelunking at a place called Moaning Caverns. The display behind these flyers featured Halloween decorations.
“As soon as Kathy Carmichael, down at KC’s Gold Country Realty, is able to find us something suitable.”
The hill to the right sported several century-old homes. Others—those along Sutter Street—had been turned into gift shops or art galleries. “Doesn’t look like there’s a big housing market around here. Will there be anything to choose from?”
“Not much but—” she gave him a pirate’s smile “—thanks to you, money’s no object, so we’ll just take the best one we can get. Picking our lot and getting started on the house you’ll build will take more time.”