Emergency Engagement (Love Emergency 1)

He pulled his attention away from his parents and eyed the walking temptation he’d been avoiding since she moved in. Savannah Smith. Apparently they’d been neighbors before. Maybe this detail would have come to light sooner if they’d done more than nod hello to each other, but they hadn’t, which made the engagement assumption their parents had leaped to downright laughable—except setting everyone straight and watching the joy and relief drain out of his parents’ faces wouldn’t be so funny.

“I can’t believe it,” Savannah’s mom went on. “What brings you here?”

“We jumped on the chance to return to our roots and live closer to Beau,” his father said. “We moved back to Magnolia Grove earlier this month, but between work, the move, and”—he gave his wife a squeeze—“a couple other challenges, we’ve been inexcusably slow about looking up old friends.”

Other challenges. His father had a gift for understatement.

Savannah’s mom waved a hand. “Your old friends understand completely. But what are you doing here, in Savannah’s apartment?”

“We saw the open door and thought this was Beau’s apartment,” his mom explained, and then continued in a quavering voice. “When we accepted his invitation to Thanksgiving dinner, we had no clue about the surprise in store for us. Beau and Savannah…engaged.” She blinked, sniffled, and lost the new battle with her tears. “I can’t even tell you what this news means to us. Especially just now.”

Shit. Shit… Fuck it. In the half second it took to string three curses together, he made up his mind. It might be the stupidest decision he’d ever come to, but he owed his parents a happy, worry-free Christmas—at least free of worry about him. Their families thought they were engaged, and he intended to let them keep right on thinking it until after the holidays.

Sinclair elbowed Savannah. “N

ow I understand why you were so freaking secretive about M. Well-played, you two, orchestrating a surprise reunion and an engagement announcement in one Thanksgiving dinner.”

Savannah’s attention swung from her sister to him, silently asking which one of them should correct the picture.

As discreetly as possible, he shook his head.

Her lips thinned. Clearly, she didn’t take the hint. “We didn’t plan any of this—”

Fuck discreet. He cleared his throat to drown her out and slumped against her pillow. “Sorry to interrupt the reunion, but unless everyone in this room has a twin standing next to them, I think the ER might be a good call after all.”

…

Beau’s words activated everyone. His father stepped forward to help his son to his feet. Her mother grabbed Mrs. Montgomery’s hand. “I’ll drive. Cheryl, you navigate. Savannah, ride in the back with Beau and keep an eye on him.”

Her father took Beau’s other side. “We’ll follow in our car,” he added as the dads walked Beau to the door.

Savannah couldn’t seem to shift herself into gear, and remained parked in the middle of her bedroom. “Wait. I have dinner in the oven. Give me a second to—”

“I’ll stay behind and take care of it,” Sinclair said while she snagged Savannah’s paint-splotched silver evening clutch and matching heels from under the bed and handed them to her. Then she whispered, “You could have told me. I know how to keep a secret.”

Maybe, but little sis had apparently blabbed the tidbit about her expectations for last night’s dinner, and now she had to manage not only her own disappointment, but that of her parents…and her neighbor’s parents, which would be substantial, judging by the happy tears coursing down Mrs. Montgomery’s cheeks and the ear-to-ear smile stretched across Mr. Montgomery’s face. She could understand his parents’ surprise, but why were they reacting like an engagement was some kind of miracle? What was wrong with this guy?

Sinclair nudged her. Right. Miracle or not, he needed a doctor. She slipped the heels on, took the clutch, and immediately flashed back to giving the shoes and purse a haphazard toss in her haste to peel herself out of her perfect “pop the question” dress last night after arriving home empty-handed, with Mitch’s version of a proposal still ringing in her ears.

Up until yesterday she’d been able to tell herself life wasn’t a total disaster. The big, sparkling career opportunity that had enticed her to Atlanta from Athens had flamed out—and burned her good in the process—but at least her personal life had looked promising. Looks, as it turned out, could be deceiving.

“Sinclair,” Beau called over his shoulder while the dads maneuvered him out of the room. “My apartment is next door, and I’ve got stuff in the oven, too.”

“No worries. I can handle double duty.” She tugged Savannah down the hall and whispered, “Neighbors. So cute. Is that how you two met…er…reconnected?”

“Yes. I mean no.” She took a breath and tried again. “I mean, yes, he’s my neighbor, but I wouldn’t say we reconnected.”

Sinclair stopped at the front door, squeezed Savannah’s arm, and released her. “Aw. Was it like you’d known each other all along? I expect to hear every detail when you get back from the hospital.”

“Savannahhhhh,” her mother called from the stairwell. “It’s chilly outside. Could you bring Beau a shirt?”

“Cooooming.” She shook her head at Sinclair, as if one simple gesture could magically melt the snowballing assumptions coming at her from every direction, and hurried into his apartment.

She zipped through to the bedroom, barely pausing to tug a black flannel shirt off a hanger in a frighteningly organized closet before rushing to catch up with the rest of the group. Still, her artist’s eye translated her surroundings into thoughts. Sparse. Tidy. Impersonal. This guy took minimalism to the extreme.

The ride to the hospital passed in a blur. She helped Beau into the shirt, ridiculously sad to watch his breathtaking array of muscles disappear behind a veil of flannel. Her hormones did a shameful little cheer when he abandoned his one-handed buttoning to basically drive from the backseat, relaying directions to her mom with remarkable clarity for a guy clutching a towel to his bleeding head. Then again, given his job, he could probably find the hospital blindfolded.

At least someone kept his attention on the road. Her mom’s eyes continuously strayed, connecting with hers in the rearview mirror. They brimmed with questions. When she pulled into the hospital parking lot, she said, “I predicted this. Way back when Beau was barely a newborn and I found out Bill and I were having a girl, I said, ‘I’ll bet they end up married.’”