He tried to swallow, but his dry tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “You don’t feel terrified when my eyes seem to be focused on you? Or grossed out? Knowing they aren’t real?”
“What a stupid question! Is this some kind of joke?”
“Mr. Knight, your limousine is here.” The concierge spoke in the flattering tone used by people courting a hefty tip. “Your driver will wait and bring you back to the charity tournament as soon as you’re done. I hope you have a marvelous time with Elvis.”
Bran slid a hundred from his wallet. The bill zipped from his hand so fast he might’ve gotten a paper cut.
Inside the limousine, Stephanie chatted with her usual unbridled excitement. “I can’t believe it. We’re gonna get a video recording with three songs. Plus pictures. Ellie’s gonna be out-of-this-world thrilled. She may forget all about the Bridgette doll. Really, I don’t know how I’m going to top this.”
“Uhmm,” he mumbled, as his thoughts scrambled about like mice in a maze. If Stephanie didn’t mind his eyes, could she possibly care about him more than she admitted? And what about his own feelings toward Stephanie? He’d never let himself consider the possibility of a romantic relationship. The same way he beat his body into submission with exercise and diet, he’d honed his emotions where Steph was concerned. Yet he’d failed, allowing himself to become dependent on her. Were there deeper feelings lurking beneath the surface? Was he in love with Stephanie, as Finn had suggested? Was he capable of love? And even if he admitted to being in love with her, didn’t she deserve better than a broken man?
“We’re here! I think I’m all shook up.” Steph sang the last phrase in a poor imitation of Elvis, chuckling at her own joke. “Let’s go.”
The door opened and Stephanie exited, her crutches clanking together as she dragged them out behind her. Branson followed her, using one hand to locate the top of the opening and his cane to find the curb. He stood up, waiting for Stephanie’s hand to guide him.
“Steph?” he called.
“Oh no! Branson, get back in the limo.” From a few feet away, her voice altered as if she’d been facing away and then swiveled toward him. Her crutches clomped back, and she grabbed his arm, clamping down so hard his adrenaline kicked into overdrive.
“What’s wrong? Did someone try to hurt you?” He attempted to shuffle in front of her, wishing he knew where the threat originated.
“No, but this place… it won’t work.”
“Why not? Is it a bad neighborhood? Are there drug dealers? Hookers? What is it?”
“It’s a wedding chapel.”
Chapter 15
Stephanie stared at the lettering on the glass door—Hunka Hunka Burning Love Wedding Chapel.
“Go on,” Branson urged. “What can it hurt?”
“We won’t actually be getting married, right?”
“We can’t. We don’t have a marriage license. The only person I can marry tonight is Finn.”
“Yes, but we won’t have to do the whole, I-do thing, will we?” If we have to go all the way through a fake ceremony, I might start crying. He’ll find out I’m in love with him. It’ll ruin everything.
“Would it be so hard to pretend we were in love?”
No. The hard part is pretending I’m pretending.
“I’m not much of an actress. It’d be better if we could skip the ceremony.”
“But Ellie would probably get a kick out of seeing her mom get married by Elvis on the video.”
“And how would I explain to her that you and I aren’t really married? Did you think of that?”
“You can tell her we made a movie together, like all those Elvis movies she watched.”
Yeah, but how will I explain it to my heart?
With a huge breath to bolster her courage, she pushed the door open and hobbled inside.
“Mr. Knight! We’re glad you made it.” A gray-haired man in a fifties-style suit—definitely not an Elvis look-alike—greeted them as they entered. “And this must be your lovely bride.”
She started to correct him. “We’re just here to—”