Stand-In Groom

absurd comment after another had spewed forth from Mrs. Landry’s mouth, nearly bringing the half-chewed food back out as well.

If Courtney’s shoulders drooped any lower, she’d be under the table. His heart twisted with compassion for the young woman. To be so browbeaten by a woman with such poor taste. He steeled himself to do what he’d been dreading all evening—living up to his namesake and facing the dragon.

He drew in a deep breath, wiped his mouth on the white cloth napkin, and laid it beside his plate. “Mrs. Landry, while I thank you for making suggestions for the wedding, I would ask that you cease now. Your daughter has hired a professional wedding planner to take care of all those details.”

Mrs. Landry’s mouth hung open, exhibiting the remains of the pasta she’d been chewing. “I beg your pardon!” She slammed her fork down hard enough to make the glassware on the table tremble and clink together. “Courtney, are you going to sit there and let him talk to me like that?”

Tears brimmed in the girl’s eyes. “Mama, please. You’re making a scene.”

“He started it.” Mrs. Landry pointed across the table at George.

How had Courtney turned out to be so delightful? He had to get her away from the harpy before Mrs. Landry ruined this experience for her. He dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the table, then stood and offered his hand to Courtney. She folded her napkin beside her plate and rose, not looking at her mother.

“Mrs. Landry, dinner was—enlightening. I will take Courtney home.” He gave the sputtering older woman a curt nod and led Courtney out of the restaurant.

Outside, Courtney threw her arms around his waist. Taken aback, he froze, hands hovering away from his sides.

“Thank you so much. I’ve been wanting to tell her all afternoon to shut up. She offered to pay for part of the wedding, but probably only so she can have some say in what happens.”

He patted her back. “Do you want her involved in the planning process?”

“No!” She released him. “I don’t even want her at the wedding, much less having any say about it.”

“Now, miss, she is your mother.”

Once again, tears threatened to overflow the innocent brown eyes. “That’s just it. She is my mother, and she knows exactly how to get under my skin. I don’t know how I’m going to last four months in her house.”

“You don’t have to.” The valet arrived with the car. George held the door for her, then went around and climbed in. “You’re going to direct me to her house, and you are going to pack your bags and move into your fiancé’s home.”

Her full lips started to form into a smile. “Mama will flip when she finds out.”

They’d been at the house nearly twenty minutes, and Courtney was halfway through moving her clothes from the bureau to a suitcase, when her mother stormed into the room. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Packing, Mama.” Courtney continued arranging the folded T-shirts in a layer on top of the blue jeans.

George moved in between them as Mrs. Landry reached out to grab Courtney’s arm. He intercepted her hand. “Kindly allow Miss Courtney to continue what she’s doing.”

Mrs. Landry gasped and jerked away. “How dare you come between me and my daughter!” Her voice rose to a pitch that would soon have all the dogs in the gated, exclusive subdivision barking. “Where do you think you’re going to go? To live in sin with him?” She practically shrieked the accusatory words.

“Mama!”

“Mrs. Landry, that is quite enough.” George used every ounce of training and past experience to keep his voice even and low. “Courtney is going to move into one of the third-floor bedrooms. I will be staying in a room in the basement—beside the housekeeper’s room. Nothing untoward will happen.”

“If you’re not—then why—?”

“Because it’s obvious she cannot stay here one moment longer.”

“Well, I never!” Mrs. Landry folded her arms across her ample— and most likely not natural—chest. From the way her face screwed up, she seemed to be trying to conjure some tears. “I can’t believe you’re going to choose him over me! Is that what you really want? Because if you leave here, that’s what you’re doing. I’ll…I’ll never speak to you again.”

Courtney kept packing; but her hands shook, and she tossed items in the suitcase haphazardly. George mirrored Mrs. Landry’s movements to stay between them.

“Court?” Mrs. Landry glared at him when her daughter didn’t answer. She planted her fists on her hips. “Fine. But you’ll come back here begging my forgiveness before too long.” She turned and flounced out of the room.

“I’m through here.” Courtney slapped the lid of the suitcase down and zipped it closed. “If I’ve left anything behind, we can come back for it tomorrow when she’s at the tanning salon.”

Although happy to be leaving, George dreaded going downstairs and walking through the house again. Gold- plated cherubs and low-quality reproduction Greek and Roman statuary crowded every inch of space possible.

The wheels of the suitcase caught on the faux tiger-skin rug—at least he hoped it was fake—that covered Italian ceramic tile in the front foyer. He heaved the bag up and carried it to the door.

Her baggage barely fit into the car trunk.

“I’m so sorry about my mom.” Courtney rested her elbow on the windowsill but leaned toward him as the cabriolet ragtop closed. He didn’t want to take any chances with the thunder growling in the distance. “She always wanted to be rich—I remember she and Daddy used to argue all the time about how she wasted money on junk. Then after he died…”

He started the car and left with all due haste. “How long ago did your father pass away?”

“Ten years ago in April—an accident at work. Mama got a lawyer, and the chemical plant settled out of court for millions of dollars. Mama finally had more money than she could spend on all of the chintzy junk she’d always wanted. Lucky for me, she decided to send me to a private prep school, where I lived on campus nine months out of the year.”

That explained how she’d escaped unspoiled. “I’ve seen enough people like her in my time. You don’t have to apologize for her actions or words.”

Thank God his employer’s home lay on the other side of the city from her mother. Unfortunately, Mrs. Landry had been to the house and could probably find her way back should the fancy strike her. His stomach churned— although it could have just been hunger pains since he’d only eaten a few bites of his dinner before making the grand exit with Courtney in tow. “You don’t think your mother will show up on the doorstep, do you?”

“Nope. There’s no way she could find it again. She didn’t pay attention on the way over, and she fired that driver this afternoon because he didn’t change lanes when she told him to.”

At the front door, he taught Courtney the security code to get in. She insisted on carrying two of the smaller suitcases, while he managed the large one and the hanging bag. Why had he decided to put her on the third floor? The second floor would have been much easier on his knees than climbing all these stairs.

Courtney chose the room at the end of the hall—the one that would make a “perfect nursery,” and one of the few that had a full set of furniture. Pale pink walls and white and pink linens hugged the room in femininity. Perfect for the very feminine creature who stood beside him—whose stomach emitted a roaring growl.

She rubbed her tummy and grinned at him. “I’m kinda hungry. Think we can raid the kitchen?”

He returned the smile, his own stomach feeling grumbly. “I’d like to introduce you to Mama Ketty, the housekeeper and, for now, cook.”

As he’d hoped, Mama Ketty cooed over Courtney and insisted on cooking dinner for her, even given the late hour of nine o’clock—Mama Ketty’s normal bedtime. Mrs. Agee bustled around the kitchen in her bathrobe and slippers, silver hair mounted on enormous curlers and covered with another colorful scarf.

“Show me your room, George.” Courtney slid off the barstool.

“There isn’t much to show.” He ushered her down the hall, opened the door, and motioned for her to enter.

“This can’t be your bedroom. No, you’ll have to move into one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

He laughed. “No, this is just the antechamber.”

She opened the second door and looked around. “Well. It’s big enough.” She disappeared through another door. “And the bathroom is great—better than mine at Mama’s house.” Coming back out, she pinned him with an amused gaze. “Tomorrow we go furniture shopping. I know you have a budget to furnish your room—I heard that