“I just don’t agree. Don’t you remember the first time you rode a two-wheeler or kissed a girl or drove a car?”

“I remember the first time I kissed you, except you made the move. Fourth of July.”

All right, she thought, enough for tonight. Let it go.“That was to kick at Del.”

“I still got the benefits.” He glanced at his hands. “I’m not in any shape to touch you without messing you up. And that’s a nice suit.”

“Then hold still and keep your hands to yourself.” She moved to him, leaned in, laid her lips on his.

“I hope you don’t consider that make-up sex.”

“It’s the best you’re going to get under the circumstances.”

“Maybe you could hang out awhile. Guys love it when women hang out and watch them work on cars.”

“We do that to placate you.”

He lowered the Jeep a couple feet. “When did you ever date anybody who got under a car?”

“I haven’t—previously—but Mac did, so I have it on good authority.”

Relaxed, with whatever had been balled in his throat, in his gut, loosened, he grinned at her. “That’s sexist. I’ve known plenty of female motorheads.”

“That sort wouldn’t be expected to ‘hang out and watch.’”

“Fine. Can you reach the steering wheel?”

“I suppose, but—”

“Do me a favor. Go on up there, turn it all the way to the right. Then all the way to the left.”

“Why?”

“Because lifting the suspension like this involves a lot of mods, and I want to make sure there’s no interference before I put the wheels on.”

“What would you have done if I hadn’t come by?”

“Stayed mildly pissed off.All the way right,” he added, then got down on a creeper and scooted under the Jeep.

“I meant about the Jeep, but I actually prefer that answer.” She leaned inside, turned the wheel. “Like that?”

“Yeah, looks good. Really good view from down here.”

“You’re supposed to be looking at whatever’s under this Jeep, not under my skirt.”

“I can do both.To the left, Legs.”

“Do you think your mother would like to come to Thanksgiving dinner?”When he said nothing for a moment, she cast her eyes at the ceiling. “Or would Thanksgiving dinner be out of place in our situation?”

“Give me a minute.” He rolled out, grabbed a tool, rolled under again.

She heard some light clanging. “Turn it again.There we are.”

He rolled out, rose, then stepped over to pick up an enormous tire. Why did he call it a wheel? Maybe the wheel was what she thought of as the inside the tire holder—and fit it on . . . would that be the axle?

Why the hell did she care?

“I’ve never been in this particular situation.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t.” He used some sort of air tool that made a loud hiss, a thump.“I’ve been in situations, but this particular one’s different.”

“I do see, Malcolm. It’s a different situation for me, too. And I understand, really, if a traditional family holiday doesn’t fit.”

“I guess we can find out. I know she’d like it, but she’s going to ask me all kinds of questions, like the dress code or—”

“It’s black tie.”

She kept her face bland for about five seconds while he made an obvious struggle not to swear. “Oh, for God’s sake, Malcolm.” She had to laugh. “There’s no code. And for a good chunk of the day, like the majority of households in America, at least the male portion of the group will be in front of the TV watching football.”

“I bet the cranberry sauce won’t come out of a can, like in the majority of households in America.”

“There you’ve got me. I’ll talk to your mother, and spare you the inquisition.”

“You’d think. Appreciate it, but she’ll still grill me, and she’ll stay on my ass so I end up wearing a suit.”

“You look good in a suit.Why are those tires so big?”

“Because the kid who owns the Jeep is a show-off.” He pressed the lift button until the tires were on the ground.“I need to check the steering again, like this, then with each side jacked up to max. Need to do the front-end alignment.”

He studied the Jeep, then the woman. “I can do that in the morning. Why don’t I wash up, lock up, then take you out to dinner?”

“It’s a little late for dinner.”

Since he wasn’t wearing a watch, he gestured toward her wrist, angled his head to read hers. “Yeah, I guess it is, unless you haven’t had dinner.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you wash up, lock up, then follow me home. I’ll scramble you some eggs. It’s today’s special.”

“That’ll work. Parker? I’m glad you came by.”

PARKER GRABBED THE PHONE AND ROLLED OUT OF BED AT THE same time. Her quick glance at the time told her it was barely five, and Friday evening’s bride was already up.

“Good morning, Leah. How—”

She broke off, slipping into the adjoining sitting room as the bride relayed the crisis.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. No, listen, don’t worry about the time. I’m yours all day. I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with the wedding. If you talk to Justin, tell him we’re all keeping his mother in our thoughts.We’ll work out the rest, Leah. Leave it to me. Let me ask you this: Can one of the other groomsmen stand as best man?”

Parker listened, grateful her bride kept her cool despite having the best man on his way to Seattle on her wedding day.

“That’s good.Yes, that still leaves you short a groomsman. Is it possible either you or Channing knows someone who could fill in? Yes, I understand it’s very last minute, and there’s the matter of fit with the vests and the shirts you decided on.”

Pursing her lip, she eased the door open, narrowed her eyes at Malcolm, who’d taken advantage of her absence to sprawl diagonally over the bed.

“I might have someone who’d fit. I understand neither you nor Channing know him, but . . . No, don’t think about it. Let me see what I can do, and I’ll get back to you. I promise you, we’ll take care of everything. Give me about an hour.”