Full Throttle (Fast Track #7)(35)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Arms instantly enveloped Harley. “Honey, it’s so good to meet you. I’m your momma-in-law.”

Oh, God.

Harley automatically hugged her back as Rhett’s mother continued, “Now I can’t say I’m thrilled that you got married so suddenlike and at the courthouse, but you know what? I say who cares when what really matters is that my youngest has found the right woman for him.” She pulled back. “Let me look at you, Shawn. Oh, you’re just too cute. Exactly Rhett’s type.”

Shawn coughed, not sure whether to be amused or offended. Harley sputtered a little, her head shaking.

“Oh, I’m not Shawn.”

“I am,” Shawn volunteered, raising her hand a little and really wishing she were wearing a bra. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Ford.”

“Oh.” Rhett’s mother swung her view from Harley to her. “You’re Shawn?” she asked, incredulous. “Oh, goodness, well, of course. It’s just you’re not Rhett’s usual type.” Then she laughed. “Of course, he didn’t marry any of those girls, did he?”

Shawn laughed weakly. Except that he hadn’t intended to marry her either until she’d offered him money. So girls like Harley were normally his type, huh? Petite, blond, natural-looking. Clearly sweet, clearly passive. Unlike her. She was tall, her figure more athletic than traditionally feminine, her hair a low-maintenance, tousled shoulder-length mess. She couldn’t be bothered to flat-iron it or curl it. Or really even cut it all that often. Nor was she particularly passive. At least, not generally speaking.

The memory of Rhett spanking her popped into her head and she shoved it aside. So she’d been passive in bed. What of it?

She was not going to feel inadequate because she was independent and something of an adult tomboy. Hadn’t she come to terms with that self-esteem crap twenty years ago?

So she moved away from the counter and toward Rhett’s mother. “Come in, come in. Let me take your coat.”

“Oh, thanks, hon.”

Shawn found herself enveloped in a hug before being handed a basket. “I brought you some muffins. I know, it’s not much, but I didn’t have a lot of notice.” She wagged her finger at Shawn and gave her a rueful look.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ford.” Shawn took the basket and set it on the counter.

“Oh, Lord, call me Sandy. Technically, we’re both Mrs. Ford now.”

Oh, God, she was, wasn’t she? Wait. She didn’t have to change her name. That would be stupid, because then she’d just have to change it back in a year. She was still Shawn Hamby and always would be. Feeling a profound sense of relief, she gestured to her friends. “This is Harley and Charity. They’re here to help with planning the wedding party.”

“Nice to meet you girls. Perfect timing then!” She peeled off her coat and handed it to Shawn. “Unless you don’t want your mother-in-law’s opinion.”

“No, of course, I would love it. I have no idea what I’m doing.” That was the truth, without a doubt. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some.”

Shawn poured coffee for everyone, then took out the muffins and plated them, and they all retreated into the living room. Sinking into an easy chair, she marveled at the sheer oddity of the circumstance. She was sitting here planning her wedding reception with a woman she’d never met. Her husband’s mother. If only Pops could see her now, he’d realize what a foolish idea his will had been. They were making a sheer mockery out of the institution of marriage.

“Rhett’s father and I have been married for thirty-six years,” she started.

Oh, and that made her feel better. Not.

“Congratulations, that’s wonderful.”

“The house is a little empty these days, but it’s good to know all my kids are married themselves and happy and healthy. I wasn’t sure about Rhett, you know. He’s always been so serious.”

“He’s no stand-up comedian,” Shawn agreed. “But the good thing is he always knows what he wants.”

Charity coughed into her hand.

Shawn shot her a sideways glare. She knew exactly what Charity was envisioning, and damn it, she was right.

“That is true. So where were you thinking of having the party? And when?”

“Valentine’s Day. Rhett thought it was . . . romantic.” She almost choked on her tongue, but she forced the words out. Fortunately, her blush could be taken as that of a new bride, and not the lying poseur that she was. “I have no idea where to have it. I think it’s going to be about fifty people, and given it’s winter, we can’t exactly have an outdoor barbecue in the yard.”

“What about a hall or a restaurant?” Charity asked.

“That sounds expensive to rent.” She was already shelling out a hundred grand to be Rhett’s wife, she wasn’t going to drop twenty K on a wedding reception on top of it. The point was to be financially solvent in the end, not bankrupt after going through all of this. “I was thinking wherever it is, people can bring potluck instead of wedding gifts. I want it to be casual, fun.” Cheap. Over.

“What about the track?” Rhett’s mother asked. “Hamby Speedway has plenty of room indoors, right? It wouldn’t be glamorous, but it’s free and it seems fitting.”

She had a point. Plus the publicity would be phenomenal. “Hm. That’s a great idea. I think it could work.”

“It’s so . . . dirty,” Charity said, in horror. “It’s a dirt track.”

“We’re not talking about throwing a party on the track itself,” Shawn protested. “We have a party room for corporate and media events.” It could work.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Harley reassured her.

Charity looked skeptical, but then again she always did.

But once her twin pulled out a notebook and started making a to-do list, Charity seemed to realize this was happening with or without her opinion, so she might as well add it. Which was good, because ultimately Shawn found she had no opinion herself. It was more overwhelming than anything else.

Frankly, she’d never been the little girl who fantasized about her wedding, and she was no great party planner either. She was more of a show-up-with-a-bottle-of-wine-and-hope-someone-did-all-the-work kind of person. Given that this wasn’t even real, and she was already feeling guilty for essentially duping her friends and family, she really didn’t care whether they used peonies versus roses.