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at teasing than he was, despite his having three younger siblings. Instead, he carried her bags to the door. "The only wedding I'm worried about is the one that's taking place tomorrow."
    "That may be taking place tomorrow," she replied.
    He dropped the bags on the cement stoop in front of the door and turned back, trapping her between his body and the side of his mother's minivan. "You're not going to talk Molly out of getting married."
    Molly might have been emotional, but she'd seemed so sure that she wanted to marry Dr. Josh Towers. She didn't need anyone making her doubt her decision.
    Abby's lips lifted in that infuriating smile she kept flashing him. He longed to wipe it off her mouth—with his.
    Breathing deep, he calmed his rising temper. No one, not even Rory, tested his control the way Abby did.
    "What kind of friend would that make me?" she asked him.
    "Talking her out of getting married?" He knew that she wouldn't purposely do anything to hurt her friends. "You might think that makes you a good friend."
    She nodded. "I might."
    "But you wouldn't be a good friend if you're actually projecting your aversion to marriage onto her," he observed. "Just because you think marriage isn't for you, that doesn't mean that it isn't for Molly."
    "If you're so pro-marriage, why isn't there a ring on your finger?" she asked, reaching for his hand. Her skin brushed against his as she stroked his bare ring finger.
    The hair rose on Clayton's foreanns—her touch was like an electrical charge. He pulled his hand away. "I've never been in love."
    And he damn well never intended to fall prey to that dangerous emotion.
    "What makes you think Molly is?" she persisted.
    He wasn't certain Molly was in love. Yet. But she respected Josh and she'd chosen to spend her life with him. It wasn't up to Clayton or Abby to change her mind.
    "She's wearing a ring," he reminded her. "She accepted his proposal."
    "But I don't think she loves him."
    He swallowed hard, but he couldn't control his curiosity about her and about Lara's father any longer. "Have you ever been in love, Abby?"
    She shook her head, tumbling blond curls around her bare shoulders.
    "But you have a daughter..."
    Her laugh trilled out. "Clayton, you're so old-fashioned."
    Yeah, maybe he was.
    "And judgmental," she accused him again. "I could have become a nun instead of a single mother, and you still wouldn't approve of me."
    "Is that why you made everyone promise not to tell me about Lara?" he asked, stepping so close their bodies nearly touched. "You were worried about what I'd think of you?"
    She lifted her chin and tossed her head with all the spirit of a champion racehorse. "I don't care what you think of me, Clayton."
    Anger licked through him, heating his blood. She didn't care what he thought? It shouldn't bother him. but it did. "Then why didn't you want anyone to tell me?" he persisted. "Are you ashamed you made a mistake?"
    He stumbled back, nearly tripping over her luggage, as her hands slammed into his chest.
    "Never call her that!" Her voice trembled with rage. "Never call my daughter a mistake."
    He caught her by the shoulders, holding her gently but firmly so she'd stop pushing him. "I'm sorry, Abby." She definitely brought out the worst in him. "That wasn't what I meant."
    He could never see a child, any child, as a mistake. And even before Abby had reacted so strongly, he'd known she didn't see her daughter that way, either. She loved Lara.
    Instead of defending himself, he conceded, "I was out of line."
    "Yes, you were," she agreed, drawing in a deep breath. Her eyes pooled with unshed tears.
    "I better go," he said, releasing her to open the door to the kilchen of his old house. His hand shook, rattling the handle.
    "Clayton?"
    He turned back to her.
    "Don't worry," she said. "I'm leaving Cloverville right after the wedding."
    He nodded, relief easing some of the tension that pressed against his chest. No matter what his mother, the matchmaker, thought, they