Read Online Stand-In Groom by Kaye Dacus - Free Book Online
Authors: Kaye Dacus
Tags: United States, Fiction, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Religion & Spirituality, Christian fiction, Women's Fiction, Single Women, Domestic Life, Christian Books & Bibles, Religious & Inspirational Fiction
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Gotta run.”
“Good-bye, miss.”
“G’bye, George.”
After losing track of time exploring a few shopping centers near the large enclosed mall, George returned to the house, stomach growling. He parked in back and headed for his room to shower and rid himself of the sticky feeling from running in and out of stores in the heat and humidity. He was going to have to rush to be on time for the three o’clock appointment with Anne.
The cell phone rang again while he stood in the closet, peeling off the sweaty clothes. “Hello, George Laurence here.”
“Mr. Laurence, this is Anne Hawthorne. I wondered if we might push our appointment back to three thirty. I’ve had to take care of an issue with a vendor and will be late returning to my office.”
The longer he could put it off, the better. “Three thirty will be fine.”
“Thank you so much.”
George ended the call and jumped in the shower. Then, although he hated to do it because of the heat, he dressed in black summer-weight wool trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a tie.
His phone beeped. A message from his employer. He grimaced at his reflection as he straightened his tie. Oh, to be able to turn off his cell phone and not have to jump to do someone else’s bidding at any time of the day or night. Whoever had invented the mobile phone should be publicly executed.
He listened to the message and made notes on tasks he needed to do, e-mails he needed to send, and plans he needed to make on his employer’s behalf. All of it could wait until later.
The luxury convertible twinkled at George in the shimmering sunlight as he approached it. Too bad he couldn’t keep this indulgence. When his employer arrived, George would have to hand over the keys of this beauty and find something more in keeping with his own income.
Crosstown traffic was heavy for midday. He thought he noticed a group of women seated at alfresco tables outside of a coffeehouseadmiring him, but he didn’t want to turn around and look. He never ceased to be amazed at how the appearance of money could make women pretend to find him attractive.
He’d never had any delusions about his physical appearance. He’d been a slight lad growing up—a slight lad with an angular face, big nose, and unevenly spaced teeth. Although his teeth had straightened out somewhat as he grew up, he still tried to keep them hidden as much as he could. His nose, large to begin with, had been broken in a school rugby game when he was fourteen, so was a bit asymmetrical, too. His shoulders were broad, and he was tall; but if he didn’t work out with weights at least four times a week, he could hide behind a lamppost just by turning sideways. He kept his light brown hair short, and several years ago, he’d started to develop wrinkles around his eyes.
Put him in an expensive Mercedes, and the women would look. Stand him beside someone like his employer or Forbes Guidry, and no one saw George Laurence.
“Lord, I know this has been a recurring theme in my prayers, but You know how much I would like to marry and have a family. I cannot ask a woman to live with the kind of schedule I must keep for my current employment. Please show me a way to do something else and still remain in this country.” George looked around to make sure no one saw him talking aloud in an otherwise empty car. What did it matter? It wasn’t as if he were talking to himself. He was talking to Someone more important.
He pulled into a car park just off Town Square. When he stepped out, the air wrapped around him like a sweaty gym sock. Why anyone would choose to live in these conditions baffled him. He’d take the clammy weather of northern England any day.
Following the sidewalk into the traffic-free square, he admired the original late-Victorian architecture. The row houses facing the large central commons had long ago ceased to be residences and were now stores, restaurants, and other businesses. The obvious attention to historic
“Good-bye, miss.”
“G’bye, George.”
After losing track of time exploring a few shopping centers near the large enclosed mall, George returned to the house, stomach growling. He parked in back and headed for his room to shower and rid himself of the sticky feeling from running in and out of stores in the heat and humidity. He was going to have to rush to be on time for the three o’clock appointment with Anne.
The cell phone rang again while he stood in the closet, peeling off the sweaty clothes. “Hello, George Laurence here.”
“Mr. Laurence, this is Anne Hawthorne. I wondered if we might push our appointment back to three thirty. I’ve had to take care of an issue with a vendor and will be late returning to my office.”
The longer he could put it off, the better. “Three thirty will be fine.”
“Thank you so much.”
George ended the call and jumped in the shower. Then, although he hated to do it because of the heat, he dressed in black summer-weight wool trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a tie.
His phone beeped. A message from his employer. He grimaced at his reflection as he straightened his tie. Oh, to be able to turn off his cell phone and not have to jump to do someone else’s bidding at any time of the day or night. Whoever had invented the mobile phone should be publicly executed.
He listened to the message and made notes on tasks he needed to do, e-mails he needed to send, and plans he needed to make on his employer’s behalf. All of it could wait until later.
The luxury convertible twinkled at George in the shimmering sunlight as he approached it. Too bad he couldn’t keep this indulgence. When his employer arrived, George would have to hand over the keys of this beauty and find something more in keeping with his own income.
Crosstown traffic was heavy for midday. He thought he noticed a group of women seated at alfresco tables outside of a coffeehouseadmiring him, but he didn’t want to turn around and look. He never ceased to be amazed at how the appearance of money could make women pretend to find him attractive.
He’d never had any delusions about his physical appearance. He’d been a slight lad growing up—a slight lad with an angular face, big nose, and unevenly spaced teeth. Although his teeth had straightened out somewhat as he grew up, he still tried to keep them hidden as much as he could. His nose, large to begin with, had been broken in a school rugby game when he was fourteen, so was a bit asymmetrical, too. His shoulders were broad, and he was tall; but if he didn’t work out with weights at least four times a week, he could hide behind a lamppost just by turning sideways. He kept his light brown hair short, and several years ago, he’d started to develop wrinkles around his eyes.
Put him in an expensive Mercedes, and the women would look. Stand him beside someone like his employer or Forbes Guidry, and no one saw George Laurence.
“Lord, I know this has been a recurring theme in my prayers, but You know how much I would like to marry and have a family. I cannot ask a woman to live with the kind of schedule I must keep for my current employment. Please show me a way to do something else and still remain in this country.” George looked around to make sure no one saw him talking aloud in an otherwise empty car. What did it matter? It wasn’t as if he were talking to himself. He was talking to Someone more important.
He pulled into a car park just off Town Square. When he stepped out, the air wrapped around him like a sweaty gym sock. Why anyone would choose to live in these conditions baffled him. He’d take the clammy weather of northern England any day.
Following the sidewalk into the traffic-free square, he admired the original late-Victorian architecture. The row houses facing the large central commons had long ago ceased to be residences and were now stores, restaurants, and other businesses. The obvious attention to historic
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