Three Blind-Date Brides: Nine-to-Five Bride

‘Probably.’ Marissa’s smile held relief and gratitude and a wealth of affection for the woman Rick had yet to meet. ‘But her curiosity about my boss will overrule that.’

He didn’t feel like a boss right now. The expression in Marissa’s eyes as she looked at him, the way she’d curled her fingers around his hand—those hadn’t seemed very businesslike either.

They stepped into the bedroom together. There were no chairs. It wasn’t a hospital room, but the room shared by two people who’d loved each other and lived together for many years. A framed wedding photo hung on the wall at the foot of the bed. Knick-knacks sat cheek by jowl on a dresser with a man’s watch and a well-worn hat.

Rick imagined sharing such a room with Marissa. The idea was alien and stunning all at once. He turned to the woman in the bed. ‘I’m very sorry to know you’ve been unwell, Mrs Warren.’

Marissa stepped past him, went to her mother and caught her hand in hers, pressed it to her face and kissed the back of it before she eased down gently to sit on the bed beside her mum. ‘Yes, you’re not allowed to pull a stunt like that again, Mum. You scared me silly.’

‘I’ll try not to.’ Tilda Warren shifted slightly in the bed and, though her face bore the marks of the strain and discomfort she’d experienced, she looked enough like Marissa that Rick couldn’t help but like her on sight.

She smiled at Rick. ‘Thank you for bringing Marissa to us. I won’t pretend I’m not glad to see her. The last few hours were a bit frightening and I’m glad to see my girl.’

‘And now you’re going to rest and hopefully go to sleep.’ Marissa fussed a little and then, with obvious reluctance and an equal amount of determination, prepared to leave the room. ‘I’ll look in on you later, even if you’ve gone to sleep. Just to be sure …’

‘Thank you, love.’ Tilda sighed. ‘I admit I feel rather wiped out and I think I probably will sleep, at least for a while. They gave me painkillers. You’ll need some dinner, though, and—’

‘And we can take care of that by ourselves,’ Marissa interrupted with a loving smile, and they left the room together.

The depth of the relief Rick felt surprised him. That Marissa’s mother would be okay; that nothing had happened that would cause Marissa a lot of long-term unhappiness.

When Marissa stared rather blankly at the contents of the fridge, he asked if there were any restaurants or take-away food places in the town. ‘You’ve all had a stressful time. Let me at least pick up something for dinner.’

He did that, managing it without stepping on Abe’s toes. Abe sat with his wife even after sleep claimed her before he finally emerged and spent some time talking quietly with his daughter while his sister-in-law got up and down at intervals to look in on Marissa’s mum.

They spoke in hushed tones of nothing much. Abe asked a little about Rick’s business. Jean asked about his roots, and Rick admitted he’d never lived outside the city, that his sisters and nieces were there. His gaze tracked Marissa’s every movement. He had a plan for how he might do something for her mother as well …

Mum truly would be okay. Marissa looked in on her one last time and finally started to believe it. As she acknowledged this, some of the things she’d pushed aside in her haste to get here filtered through at last, and she frowned for a whole other set of reasons.

She stood and collected her bag from where she must have dumped it beside a lounge chair when she’d first come into the house. ‘You’ll be all right through the night, Aunty?’

‘Absolutely, and Abe can handle me creeping in and out of the room a few times to see to meds and things tonight.’ Jean rose to her feet as well. ‘It means turning you out of the spare room, though. There’s only a single in there with the sewing machine.’

Marissa glanced towards Rick. He’d also got to his feet and stood watching her. In truth his gaze had rarely left her since they’d arrived, and she felt ridiculously warmed and … comforted by that knowledge. ‘If Rick doesn’t mind, we’ll find a couple of rooms in one of the motels for the night. I’d like to visit Mum again tomorrow morning and then I know we’ll have to leave.’

Jean patted her arm. ‘Your dad will look after her and she’ll stay quieter if there aren’t too many people here to distract her from that. You know what she’s like. She was already saying she wanted to get out of bed and start organising things.’

They were all on their feet now, and Rick gestured towards the second bedroom in the house. ‘Do you keep anything here, Marissa? Maybe you should gather a change of clothes and some nightwear and a toothbrush before we go.’

‘You won’t get any rooms.’ The words came from Abe as he slapped a hand against his thigh. ‘I forgot about the impact of the vintage car festival. All the motels are fully booked, or so it said in the paper this morning.’

‘And Rick has no spare clothes, not even a toothbrush.’ Marissa turned his way. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t give that a thought when we left Sydney. I do have a few things here, but you—’

Rick shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I’ll make do, and maybe we can go to a motel in a nearby town?’

‘The nearest town large enough is mine, and it’s a two-hour drive away.’ Jean pointed this out with a frown. ‘You’d both be most welcome to stay at my place but it’s a long way.’

At that moment a soft knock sounded on the front door. Her father opened it.

It was Mrs Brill from the end of the street, a busy woman with five children and a truck-driver husband. She had a casserole in one hand and a key in the other.

She held out the casserole. ‘This is for dinner tomorrow night, and I saw the extra cars outside and wondered about accommodation. I’ve got the converted garage with a sofa bed that pulls out and a camp-bed I bought at a garage sale for the second room in there.’

‘That would be really helpful. We were just wondering how best to work that out.’ Jean spoke the words in her brisk, no-nonsense way. She took the casserole and handed it to Marissa, who carried it through to the kitchen.

By the time Marissa returned, matters were decided—Mrs Brill had left to start the short walk back to her home and Rick held the key to the converted garage.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MARISSA gathered her things into a carryall. Her father bundled some more things in on top for Rick to use and, with a murmured word of thanks, Rick drove them the short distance to the end of the street.

He pulled to a stop before an unpretentious home with a large front garden and larger back garden. Mrs Brill had walked ahead of them and took them straight through to the back, where the garage sat surrounded by a swing set and a collection of children’s toys and bikes and other things.

‘Thank you. This is very kind.’ Marissa managed to choke out the words without looking at Rick at all. Mrs Brill was kind, and Marissa appreciated the hospitality. She just couldn’t imagine her multi-millionaire boss, with his city central penthouse apartment with all mod cons, here.

‘You’re welcome, love. You even have your own shower and loo.’ Their hostess disappeared with a wave.

Rick unlocked the converted garage, flipped the light switch and they stepped inside.

The room had a square of someone’s old carpet slung over a concrete floor, unlined walls covered in dartboards and fishing paraphernalia, and a sofa that converted. A pile of bedding and two bath towels sat waiting on it.

A door to the right opened into a second room.

Marissa bit her lip. ‘It’s probably not what you’re used to, but it was very good of Mrs Brill.’

‘It’s fine, and it was very generous of her.’ Rick set the bag down on the floor and tossed a can of deodorant in on top that he’d taken from the glove compartment of his car.

‘I don’t know what Dad’s put in the bag for you.’ For no clear reason, Marissa’s face heated and she looked everywhere but into Rick’s eyes.

She hadn’t thought too much about their accommodation until now, and was realising that it could feel a little awkward for a whole other lot of reasons.

The moment the thought rose so did her consciousness of him.

‘Toothbrush, disposable razor, a pair of boxer shorts still in their wrapping, T-shirt, and the ugliest pair of long john style pyjamas I’ve ever seen.’ Rick’s tone deepened as he spoke those last words, as his gaze met with hers and held.

‘Dad usually wears a T-shirt and boxers to bed. Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight.’ She spoke the words with a hint of confusion, felt far more as her senses began to respond to Rick’s nearness, to the intensity that had risen in his gaze.

‘He’s your father. He was thinking perfectly.’ Rick turned abruptly towards the second room. ‘I’d better set up the camp-bed so we can both get some sleep. Mrs Brill said it hasn’t been used since she bought it.’

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