Proxy Bride (The Lindstroms Book 1) Read online

  “Jenny and Sam,” she whispered, followed by a small, strangled sound from deep in her throat.

  A longing for him, raw and real, bubbled up inside of her.

  Oh, no. No, this is no good, she thought, fingers trembling over the mouse. You don’t even know him. You can’t possibly be infatuated with him. No. Stop.

  She cringed, knowing protestations were useless. Feelings were feelings, welcome, inconvenient, or otherwise. And Jenny’s feelings told her that she was already in the middle of something she never even saw coming.

  I didn’t mean for this to happen.

  Clenching her eyes shut in frustration, she hit Send, powered down, and snapped the laptop closed.

  Then she got into bed and turned off her bedside table lamp, lacing her hands under her head and staring at the shadows on her ceiling. Unbidden yet inevitably, her mind turned to Sam’s face, his eyes of smiling, teasing, handsome brown. She balled her hands into fists, turning to her side and closing her eyes with determination.

  He’s not from here, and you’re not from Chicago, so let’s end this fantasy now, Jenny, and get this straight and fixed in your mind:

  He’s not for you, Pretty Girl. He’s not for you.

  Chapter 5

  Jenny slept fitfully for the first time in years.

  She finally gave up on sleep entirely, got dressed, and took Casey for an early morning walk. The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour or so, not until almost 8:00 a.m. The days were as short in December as they were long in June, when even the southern parts of Montana boasted almost sixteen hours of daylight at midsummer. Today was so close to the winter solstice, there would be only eight hours of daylight at best and less each following day. She didn’t mind the dark, quiet walk; she relished the time to think about the day before her, to settle her thoughts in the shadows of the early morning.

  Sam was just about the first thing on her mind when she woke up, and she wanted to try to make sense of her feelings before he came to pick her up later that morning. She had decided firmly last night before bed that despite her attraction to him, he couldn’t be the man for her. Their lives were too substantially different for her to indulge in any real fantasies about him, and she would treat him with nothing more than the same kindness she would extend to any other human being.

  I will think of him as I would old Mr. Thornton at church or any of Pappa’s friends. His eyes will merely be eyes, not teasing brown under dark lashes. His hands will just be hands, not strong, corded hands that I want to reach out and hold. His lips will only be—

  She felt cool resolve melt away into rushing falls of longing and shushed her thoughts with a quick head shake. This isn’t helping. I refuse to give in to this infatuation. There must be another way to shoo you from my mind, Sam Kelley.

  Gardiner was starting to come alive as she crossed the bridge and headed back to her apartment. The lights were on at the Prairie Dawn below Jenny’s apartment, and she considered popping in for a latte but had no sensible reason for such an extravagance when there was perfectly good coffee waiting to be brewed at home. Still, it might be nice to sit with Maggie Campbell for a few minutes and get her opinion on things.

  Maggie owned the bookstore-cum-coffee shop downstairs and occasionally walked or fed Casey when Jenny couldn’t get home from school for her midday walk. She was Jenny’s closest friend in town, only a few years older than Jenny and the ongoing secret crush of Jenny’s oldest brother, Nils.

  No. No, she decided firmly. She didn’t need Maggie’s opinion or anyone else’s: even addressing her feelings would just indulge this silly infatuation.

  It occurred to her, as she put Casey’s leash away and opened her laptop, that there might be another way. Information is power, after all, right? And where better to gather it than on the information superhighway? It wouldn’t hurt to know a little bit more about him. Perhaps she would find something so objectionable online, it would immediately reverse her fledgling feelings.

  “I’m going to Google you, Sam Kelley.”

  Sitting Indian-style on her loveseat, she pulled out her laptop, shooing away the voice in her head that chastised her as a voyeuristic busybody. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  She typed “Sam Kelley” into the Google search bar.

  Wow. Who knew so many people had that name?

  She narrowed it down by typing “Sam Kelley Chicago.”

  Hmm. LinkedIn. A sportswriter? Probably not. He hadn’t mentioned sports once.

  Sam Kelley, a banker at Mutual Trust Associates. Maybe. She clicked on the link.

  Sam’s handsome face stared back at her from the screen in a formal black-and-white photo. He was dressed sharply in a suit jacket and tie over a crisp, light-colored dress shirt. His hair was slicked back like the lead actor from the movie Wall Street, and he wore a reserved smile, which was direct yet approachable at once. Under the photo was his title—vice president, Mutual Trust—and a short bio about his education and experience.

  Jenny combed over the short paragraph. He had gone to the University of Chicago, where he graduated with a BS in economics in 2004, and it looked like he had worked at Mutual Trust for about seven years; she counted back in her head and guessed his age at twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He had received his last promotion about a year and a half ago, which had made him one of the youngest vice presidents in MTA’s history. It said he had initiated his group’s entry into cutting-edge active quantitative strategies and called him “one of the rising stars” at MTA.

  Jenny smiled and even felt a little bit proud of him. He must be pretty smart.

  She stared at his face, feeling her own soften in pleasure, and wondered if she could find more pictures of him. Clicking on the word Images on the Google toolbar, she waited until a page of tiny thumbnail photos came up. The first picture was the black-and-white one she had just seen on his company’s website. There were several other photos of various unfamiliar faces, and then…

  A thumbnail of Sam in a tuxedo, with a stunning woman beside him. Jenny’s heart leapt in her chest, and she clicked on the tiny picture. She was redirected to a photographer’s website: Joseph Grant Photography—2012 Fall Charity Gala at Navy Pier. She scrolled down until she found the picture again.

  It was Sam, all right, looking more handsome than she could have imagined, in a tuxedo with his hair gelled back and a devastatingly beautiful woman by his side. If a picture was worth a thousand words, their body language said it all: he had his arm around her tiny waist, his hand clasping her close. The woman leaned into Sam but offered a dazzling smile to the photographer. She was an inch or two shorter than Sam but still tall. She wore a red silk dress that clung to her perfect body like a slip, ending just above her stylish silver high-heeled shoes. The dress had a plunging neckline and a dramatic slit in the skirt that almost went up to her waist, showing a tan, toned leg underneath.

  Jenny read the caption under the photo: Chicago’s own Pepper Pettway with her boyfriend, Sam Kelley, attends the Annual Charity Gala at Navy Pier, October 2012

  Pepper Pettway.

  Ouch.

  Jenny had assumed that Sam’s life in Chicago was more glamorous than hers in Gardiner, but she had no idea how incredibly far away their worlds were from one another until she sat staring at his girlfriend, Pepper Pettway.

  Jenny opened another Google session and typed her name.

  Her heart sank.

  “Fifty Most Beautiful Chicagoans.” Fox Chicago Sunday morning, “What’s the Weather? with Pepper.” Pepper Pettway and Sam Kelley at the Chicago Museum of Art. Pepper Pettway and Sam Kelley at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Pepper and Sam kissing on the huge HD screen at Wrigley Field, wearing matching Cubs caps. Pepper in a bright-yellow skirt suit surrounded by bandaged children, reading stories at the pediatric burn unit of the University of Chicago Medical Center.

  Pepper Pettway wasn’t a supermodel, she was a television personality. She wore beautiful clothes but still enjoyed a ba
seball game, and she volunteered her time to read stories to burned children.

  She’s beautiful and glamorous, and she’s a good person too.

  Jenny slowly lowered the laptop screen until it snapped shut definitively. Then she leaned her elbow on the side of the loveseat and cradled her cheek in her hand, looking around her plain, old-fashioned living room. She had never looked at her apartment through any eyes but her own, but seeing it through Pepper’s eyes made her feel like a guilty Eve in the Garden of Eden with too much knowledge: exposed and embarrassed.

  Secondhand furniture, mostly choices her mother made years ago, looked lumpy and worn. Some simple family photos adorned her mantle: Jenny and the boys in the park over the years, Jenny and Ingrid on high school and college graduation days and a copy of her parents’ wedding picture. These modest decorations spoke to an unsophisticated life. She swallowed as she looked at the homemade calico curtains she had sewn on her mother’s old Singer and cringed at the needlepoint pillow, crafted lovingly by a young student, that read, “A#1 Techer.”

  She didn’t know how long she sat on the loveseat in silence, but by the time she stood up, her confused feelings for Sam were ebbing away with a finality that made her wistful for yesterday. Reading about Pepper was like dousing herself with cold water. Not only was Sam taken, but he was taken by someone as completely amazing as Pepper Pettway.

  You can’t compete, Jenny. She flinched, then felt her backbone kick in. Silly girl. You shouldn’t have been competing in the first place. A bad night’s sleep for nothing. I told you, he’s not for you, and now you know it too.

  She jumped up with determination and padded into the kitchen to start her coffeemaker, distractedly scooping too many grounds into the basket. Her mind hummed with some unresolved question, and although she wished she could just stop this merciless focus on Sam Kelley, the question rose up to the surface like bubbles on a pond.

  “If he has a girlfriend,” she murmured aloud, “then how come he was flirting with me?”

  He had touched her finger at dinner, stroked her ear, and—for heaven’s sake!—almost kissed her on the loveseat and at the door.

  She ran back to the living room, grabbed her laptop, and snapped it open on the kitchen counter. Chicago’s own Pepper Pettway with her boyfriend, Sam Kelley, attends…

  She checked the date: October! Just a few weeks ago!

  Her eyes opened wide in indignation, and her mouth shaped itself into an outraged O. Did Sam Kelley set out to philander with her while he was away from Pepper?

  “Well!” she hissed. “He’s nothing but a smooth, lowlife womanizer!”

  Jenny braced her palms on the kitchen counter as the old percolator wheezed and gurgled beside her, coffee spurting into the dome angrily.

  With no one else to talk to, she looked down at Casey, whose brown puppy eyes widened at Jenny’s upset tone.

  “He has someone like Pepper Pettway in his life, but he’s trying to make time with me on the side! Probably looking for a weekend fling! Really! Of all the base, disgraceful—”

  The phone interrupted her tirade.

  Dang it, not now! The machine can answer!

  “Jen. Lars here. Heard about you doing pizza with a dude last night at the Blue Moon. Just wondering about that, little sister…”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Casey, who whined from her play pen. “Guess the Gardiner rumor mill is up and running early today, huh?”

  The phone rang again. She knew what was coming. She pulled out a coffee cup and listened to the next message.

  “Jenny. It’s Erik. Lars called. Who’s the guy?”

  She counted to ten before the phone rang a final time.

  “It’s Nils. You didn’t pick up for Erik or Lars. I’m coming over to see if you’re at your place, Jenny girl, and if you’re not, then I’m calling Pappa, and you know—”

  Jenny snatched the phone off its base and pressed Answer. “Nils! It’s Jen.”

  “Ahhhhh. So you are home.”

  “You three are ridiculous. I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself. For heaven’s sake, you made sure of it.”

  “Well, he’s a stranger. No one knows him.”

  “It’s a long story, Nils.”

  “I’m warm in bed. I could use a story.”

  Older brothers! “You know Ingrid’s fiancé, Kristian? He’s Kristian Svenson’s cousin. Just visiting.”

  “Visiting you?”

  “No. Yes. Sort of, but it’s not what you think.”

  Nils’s voice took on an edge. “What do I think, Jenny?”

  “Gode Gud, Nils, quit it. It’s a long, boring story. I’ll tell you all about it at Sunday supper.” She paused, then added, “Do not tell Pappa and worry him.”

  “Do not tell Pa—sorry, Jen.” She heard him chuckle humorlessly on the other side of the phone. “Now you’re digging yourself deeper. Now I want to hear the ‘long, boring story.’”

  “Helvete,” she muttered.

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “Fine.” She sighed in annoyance. “Ingrid needed some legal work done up in Livingston at the courthouse. Personal legal work, Nils. I had to take care of her part, and Sam had to take care of Kristian’s. The judge left early for the park, and we had to reschedule our appointment for Monday. So he’s stuck in Gardiner for the weekend, and I had to be hospitable.”

  “Ahhhh. So that’s why you went north yesterday. Wondered why Maggie was walking Casey at midday.” Jenny rolled her eyes.

  Nils watching Maggie but doing nothing else about Maggie was old news. She thought about giving him a hard time about it but decided to keep the peace instead. No sense in teasing him and getting him all riled up. Maggie could be a pretty touchy subject with Nils.

  “What’s his name?” asked her big brother. “The dude?”

  “Sam. Sam Kelley. Pretty much kin of Ingrid, so leave it alone, okay? No need to worry Pappa.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He paused. “You still need a hand at school today? With the booth?”

  Jenny thought about this for a moment. She should accept Nils’s help and tell Sam she had no interest in seeing him again until Monday’s appointment. She certainly wasn’t the sort of girl who went around with taken men. But indignation surged up in her, and she realized she wanted to give him a piece of her mind personally. That meant she couldn’t cancel on him yet.

  She glanced at her watch: 8:05. Sam would be here in forty minutes. “I think I’ve got it covered, Nils. You can still stop by and pick up everything later to put it together. I’ll call you boys if anything changes. See you later or tomorrow.”

  She hung up quickly and raced to her room to get dressed; she needed to get to Albertson’s Grocery and back before Sam got to her place.

  Jenny knew exactly what she wanted to offer Cheating Sam for breakfast.

  ***

  Sam slept like a baby.

  Maybe it was gulping in all that sweet, clean Montana air or spending time with a sweet, clean Montana miss, but either way, Sam woke up feeling great. He stretched languorously, rotating his neck to get out the morning cricks. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting there for a moment, groggy until he caught sight of the alarm clock out of the corner of his eye.

  “No! Crap!” He shot up, eyes wide open, realizing he had to be at Jenny’s place in twenty minutes.

  After showering and shaving in record time, Sam surveyed his limited options and decided on a pair of jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, and the sweat shirt he’d worn last night. He jumped into his rental car and raced to Jenny’s apartment, giving himself a pat on the back as he pulled up in front of her building. 8:44. Not bad, Sammy. Not bad.

  He took the stairs two at a time, excited to see her again. Maybe they weren’t meant for each other, but they were stuck together for a weekend, and she kept him on his toes. Might as well enjoy her company.

  His mouth watered as the smells of a good old-fashioned country breakfast wafted out i
nto the hall. Eggs and bacon, if I’m not mistaken! He was so impatient to see her, he felt like an eager suitor, like he should have chocolates tucked under his arm or flowers hidden behind his back.

  Whoa, boy! Calm down and remember—she’s not for you. Just be friendly and nice. Don’t make this more complicated. You’re leaving the day after tomorrow.

  He knocked lightly at her door and heard her call from inside, “It’s open, Sam!”

  Walking into her bright, cheery apartment felt like coming home.

  Sure, he’d been there last night, but it was harder to get a feeling for a place at night. He walked through the short, tidy front hallway, peeking into the living room.

  Bright sun shone through two windows that looked out onto Main Street. The overstuffed loveseat and chair looked cozy and inviting, places to really relax with a cup of coffee, as opposed to the stark, modern furniture Pepper had favored. The cheerful curtains reminded him of the handmade ones his mother had made for his room when he was small, only Jenny’s had flowers, and his had been patterned with falling leaves. Relieved that there was no fancy, modern artwork to pretend he liked, he glanced briefly at her family photos. Jenny and three blond boys in hiking boots standing from shortest to tallest in front of a massive boulder, and teenage Jenny hugging teenage Ingrid, both wearing black mortarboard caps.

  He picked up the picture and looked at her face. Probably ten years ago, but she didn’t look so different from now, really. Fresh and unpainted, blonde hair curled around her shoulders in what he guessed was a special hairdo for graduation day.

  Pretty Girl. I would have tried to hold your hand.

  He didn’t want her to catch him snooping, so he returned the frame to its place and headed into the kitchen. Casey wiggled from her playpen in the corner, whining for Sam to come and pick her up. He obliged happily.