Chapter 4
"This is illegal!" She said, brows furrowed. "I have consititutional rights!! I can marry who I want, and the government has no say! It's my life, and this is America!"
"They're not from the government, Bec." Her mom whispered quietly. "These are company people. It was in the contract, and we signed it without.... I'm sorry. I'm really, really, really- I can't do anything about it. It's my fault, not their's."
Her dad laid a hand on her mother's shoulder. "Hey, no. This is my fault just as much as it is yours, if not more." He turned to the men sitting on the couch. "If you don't mind, we need some time to talk. I trust you can find your way out."
The man on the left nodded in assent and motioned to the door. Then they walked out and headed back to their black SUVS. Becca heard the engine crank, and the two men drove away.
"The contract was made with absolutely no escape clauses. I'm sorry, honey." Her dad said.
"It's only for a year, though. That's what the paper says. It's a year, and then I can divorce whoever it is, and then I can go back to life, and we keep the company. Right?" Becca asked, deciding to try to rationalize it. Things were easier that way.
"Yeah. And we'll get some more shares of the company that you're marrying into. It'll be alright." Her dad stated. "And if I don't like the boy we meet Saturday, we'll move to Utah."
Her mother rolled her eyes. "Or Montana, right?"
"Or Scotland. Heck, maybe even Australia. Not Canada, of course. They're just weirdos."
Becca chuckled at that. "What's that all aboot?" She teased. "What's wrong with Canada?"
He grinned and ruffled her hair. "They're perfectly... what's the word? Let's just say unique."
She laughed again. "Okay, Dad. You said we're meeting Saturday?"
"Saturday." He confirmed. "I'll shoot him if he touches you, too, and then the engagement will get called off! How's that?"
"And you'll be in prison."
"Hey, it has it's ups and downs."
"Sure, dad."
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Saturday. 1:56 PM.
Tucker grabbed a piece of gum and stuck it in his mouth. "I though you said we'd meet her at two."
John rolled his eyes. "It's 1:56. People aren't always early."
"It is the polite thing to do, though." He anxiously straightened his collar. "I really hope she's not an idiot. I don't want to marry someone who doesn't know the difference between up and down."
"She's a smart one, Tuck. I don't know why you're worried. Makes A's, plays sports, likes horses, and hasn't even had a boyfriend before. She's fine, I'm sure."
He fiddled with his tie again. "I hope so."
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Saturday. 2:01 PM.
"Great. Now we're late." Becca's mother said, sighing.
"Mom, we're pulling in a minute late! Calm down."
"Alpha's got a point there." Her dad said. "I don't get why you're so upset."
He turned the wheel and pulled into the drive.
She rolled her eyes and reached up to pull a pin out of her hair. "I like being on time, is all. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. It's the need to go paranoid when we're minute late that's got something wrong with it." Becca replied, grinning.
Her mother rolled her eyes as they parked, and her father shut off the ignition. "Alright. Remember what I said. You've got a knife on you, right?" He asked.
"Duh." Becca affirmed, and pushed the car doo open to get out.
Then- "Woah."
She hadn't even seen the house as they'd pulled in. She'd been playing Angry Birds. They were so addicting, with their little yells as they flew through the air. The yellow one was her favorite. Not because he was a triangle, but because- Oh, right. New fiance's house. Focus.
It was big. Okay, that was an understatement. It was three stories-maybe four, if you counted that little peak that could be an attic. The paneling was painted a deep blue color, and there was a large porch on the front that had a couple porch swings and rocking chairs. The windows were framed beautifully, with elegant white trim.
There was a garden framing the porch sides, different flowers already starting to bloom in the heat. The drive was paved, and the grass soft beneath her shoes. There was even a large fence to the side, she noticed, and she could see horses- was that a Lipizzan? She started to the pasture, but her father's calloused hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Hey. You can go look at the horses later. We've got to go meet this kid." He said, voice firm, but expression soft. Becca nodded and walked faster to catch up with her mother.
She slowed when she reached the steps and saw her mother reach for the doorbell.
This was really happening.
The door opened, and her breath caught in her throat.
It wasn't him.
Hopefully, anyway. This guy was old.
"Hello. The Ginalds, I'm guessing?" He shot them a warm smile as he opened the door further. "I'm John Crean. Come on in."
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Tucker ran his hand through his hair one more time when he heard footsteps in the hall. Here it was. This was the woman he had to live with for the next year.
There was his dad. There was a man- her dad? Then there she was- wait, no, too old. That must be her mother.
Then she came in.
Her eyes were the first thing he noticed. He'd seen her in the picture, of course, but in person. . . she was quite the sight. Her eyes had a tiny bit of make-up on them, so small it was hard to see. No eyeliner, like the rest of the girls he went to school with. No eyeshadow, either. The green came out in her eyes.
She was dressed simply, in a pair of jean shorts- and they weren't so short that she might as well have not worn bottoms at all. The top was fancy enough, solid and polka-dotted in the front with the top of the back lacy.
He couldn't help but think that she looked better dressed modestly like this than any of the girls he'd known who couldn't care less if they walked around in their underwear.
She blushed when his eyes lingered on hers for too long, and looked away.
He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed, and looked to her parents.
They looked casual as well, and Tucker suddenly felt overdressed in his tie.
"Oh, crap. Were we supposed to be more formal?" Becca's mother looked like she caught on, eying their clothes.
"It's fine, it's fine." John reassured. "Now, about the contract. . ." He began to rattle off something about merging the two companies and how many shares they'd get from the market.
Tucker knew he should be listening, but he felt the urge to talk to his new fiance more than about the company's money.
"Mr. Ginald," He broke into the conversation quietly, still glancing to Becca. "Do you mind if I talk to her for a moment? Just talk."
The older man glanced at his wife, who nodded.
"Sure. But she's got a knife." He grinned.
Tucker laughed, then caught a glimpse of one as she stood up in pocket and shut up.
"Um, how about this way." He smiled sheepishly at the girl and went to the door that led to the kitchen, which led to the back yard. She followed him, taking in her surroundings. It was a nice place.
He opened the door for her silently, and she smiled her thanks and walked out.
Tucker walked around her and sat down on a wood bench, motioning for her to do the same.
She sat a good foot away, crossing her feet at the ankles.
"So," she began, "I'm guessing you're Tuck."
"Tucker." He corrected.
She raised an eyebrow. "How about I call you Tuck, because I don't really like saying Tucker all the time."
It was phrased like a question, but it certainly didn't sound that way when she said it.
He fiddled with his tie again, this time undoing it and sliding it off. "Okay. Sure."
"Good." She replied. "Now, all this other crap. We're getting married, whether we like it or not. I think we should take this as sort of the beginning of a relationship. Do dates, that junk. Maybe we'll warm up to each other that way. We don't, fine. We can just live in the same house and not talk for a year. How's that?"
Tucker bit his lip. "So. . . you're saying we could just start off with going on dates?"
"Pretty much. Don't expect me to kiss you."
He shook his head rapidly. "I don't."
"Good."
The silence could only have been for a few seconds, but it felt like a good bit longer. Becca was about to yell or do something, because silence was one thing she couldn't stand.
"The wedding's in a month." He blurted the words before he could stop them, and then promptly shut his mouth, wishing he could keep it that way.
Becca's eyes widened, and she swallowed. "A month?"
"Um, yeah. I think I'm supposed to ask you at some point. Even if it's not really a choice, I could get you a ring and do the proposal and everything." He told her, thinking about the hands she had folded in her lap, and wondering if they felt as good in his hand as they looked.
"No." The reply was quiet, almost a whisper.
"What?"
"You don't have to propose or anything. It's okay. Maybe you can do that if we ever like each other enough, which I have a feeling will take more than a month."
"Oh. That's fine, too. We don't have to be really married, married. I understand. Maybe one day. We do have to live in the same house, though. It's part of all the contract stuff." He waved his hand. "You know. But we won't sleep in the same room or anything. I'll buy one with a guest room. And I'm not, um," he paused, "expecting anything from you. Like that. But you do have to help run the company. As you know, we own a lot of the shares, and there's a lot of work to do considering the-"
Becca's hand covered his own.
"Okay. I can do with this. This is good." Tucker said quietly.
"You're a rambler, huh?"
"A little." He confessed. "I tend to talk too much."
"Really." She said, grinning. "I never would've guessed."
He smiled back and his eyes darted to their hands, barely touching.
Becca's did the same, and she pulled it away awkwardly and put it in her own lap.
"So," she said, "when's our first date?"
[A/N. What did you think? This was a little fast-paced, but I had to do something. It should get better. Bear with me, guys.
I know this wasn't super awesome, but vote and comment if you liked it at all!]
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