Kiss the Bride (37 page)

“If that editor at the
Heritage
isn't smart enough to hire you when he reads that interview with Blake, then I will. As my assistant editor. Now I have a wedding to attend.”

“
You're
going to Hollis's wedding?”

“Beverly bought a new dress. She can't believe she's actually going to one of Lilah Channing's fancy shindigs.”
Grant slid a business card across Mac's desk. “And you have an interview with Senator Tipley in an hour.”

“But—”

“What?” Grant tossed the word over his shoulder as he stomped toward the door. “I'm still your boss and I promised you this story. This was what you wanted.”

Yes, it was.

So why wasn't she jumping up and down at the chance to meet with the senator?

And why hadn't she already hit Send?

The door snapped shut behind Grant and Mac closed her eyes.

What should I do?

As soon as the prayer slipped out, Mac realized it was the first time she'd asked God for direction. Asked him to direct her steps, the way Ethan had, instead of forging ahead on her own.

Mac had told Grant she wanted to write real stories. She hadn't considered that was what she'd been doing all along. Writing real stories about real people.

People who'd known her for years. People who were frustrating and quirky and fascinating and amazing.

People she loved.

People who loved
her.

Hollis was right. It did change things.

What do you want me to do, Lord? I promise I'll listen this time.

Coach always said God had a sense of humor, but Mac still laughed when her cell phone rang.

“Where are you?” Hollis demanded.

“I'm at my desk.”

“I figured that out, but why aren't you
here
?”

For some reason the imperious tone made Mac smile. “Because you're getting married in . . .” She glanced at the clock on the wall and choked. “An hour.”

“I know what time the ceremony is. I'm the bride,” Hollis said. “I thought you were supposed to be covering the wedding for the
Register
.”

“You hired a photographer. And I can get the rest of the details from your mother.” The excuse sounded weak even to Mac's ears. She was hiding, plain and simple.

In fact, she'd been hiding for the past few days.

From Ethan. From herself. From the future.

Hollis's very unladylike snort told her that she knew it too.

“I'm not technically on the guest list.”

“You're my friend.”

The Channing siblings didn't fight fair. “All right.”

“I'll see you in five minutes,” Hollis said.

Panic squeezed Mac's chest, but it wasn't because she was imagining what the ramifications would be if she postponed the interview with Senator Tipley. She'd just taken a silent inventory of her closet. “Fifteen.”

“Ten.” Hollis hung up.

He'd lost her.

One moment Ethan had been watching Mac teach his grandfather—a man Ethan was convinced had been born wearing a three-piece suit—how to polka, and the next she was . . . gone.

“I heard you're moving back to Red Leaf.” Grant Buchanan, Mac's editor, blocked Ethan's path as he reached for a cupcake on the buffet table. “Would you be willing to sit down for an interview?”

“Sure.” Ethan discreetly scanned the yard. Where was Mac? He hadn't been able to talk to her since she'd arrived for the ceremony. Their eyes had met briefly when Hollis and Connor were exchanging vows, but Ethan had been busy making sure the day went smoothly.

Now it was time to start thinking about the future . . .

“I'll call you Monday and set up a time,” Grant said.

“A time?”

“For the interview. Unless you want to talk to Mac about it now.” Grant's face was the picture of innocence. “I saw her walking up the hill a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks,” Ethan said over his shoulder as he strode toward the path leading through the rose garden.

Mac wouldn't be going home already. Not without saying good night. Would she?

His steps slowed when he spotted a flash of yellow inside the gazebo. Mac sat on the bench, stunning in the strapless yellow dress she'd worn to the wedding.

He couldn't repress a grin when he noticed she'd kicked off her strappy high heels.

“Hey.”

Mac's head jerked up. “What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at the reception.”

“I know. I came up here to get some fresh air.”

“It's an outdoor wedding, Ethan.”

“Truth? I wanted to ask you to dance.” Ethan held out his hand.

She stared at him. “Here?”

“Why not?”

“There's no room to polka . . .”

Ethan ignored Mac as he drew her to her feet.

As if on cue, Hank Ackerman began to play a love song on his fiddle. The music provided the perfect accompaniment to the lap of waves against the shoreline, the spray of stars above Ethan's head, and the woman in his arms.

Mac didn't seem to know what to do. Her hands moved from his arms to his shoulders and back again.

“Did you forget everything I taught you?” Ethan chided.

Mac's lips parted, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to kiss her.

“You remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Ethan spun her around and Mac's fingers tightened on his shoulder. “It
was
pretty embarrassing.”

Color flooded her cheeks. “Tell me about it.”

“I have to admit it was the first and only time I've been stood up.”

“I stood
you
up?”

“I asked you to save me a dance, but when I got to the gym, you weren't there.”

“I was in the kitchen. I thought . . .” Mac looked away. “It doesn't matter.”

Ethan could tell it did. “One of the guys on the team called me when I was on my way back to the school. His car had broken down so I gave him a ride home first. I got to the dance a little late and looked for you, but I figured you'd changed your mind.”

“And I thought you felt sorry for me.”

“Why would I feel sorry for you?”

“Because I was awkward and . . . freckled. And I was dressed like a lion.”

“I remember that too.” Actually, Ethan remembered she looked kind of cute.

“I would never want to relive my high school years.” Mac shook her head. “I'm glad all that is in the past.”

The past. Right.

“Connor said the interview went really well,” he said slowly,
unable to read Mac's expression in the shadows. “You were worried you wouldn't have a great story to submit with your résumé, but an exclusive with Connor Blake will get the editor's attention. It looks like you'll make your deadline for the
Heritage
and have your dream job.”

But what if her dream had changed?

Over Ethan's shoulder, Mac watched Hollis and Connor dancing near the water.

The wedding gown was everything Hollis had claimed it was. Lacy and puffy and gaudy . . . and she looked absolutely stunning. And totally content in her husband's arms even though she had no idea what the future held.

Maybe it was time for her to show a little courage too.

“No,” Mac said softly, “I won't get the job.”

“You have to believe in yourself, Mac.” Ethan frowned at her. “You're a great writer.”

“I won't get the job at the
Heritage
because I e-mailed it to Grant. It's going to be on the front page of the
Register
next week.”

“Why would you do that?”

“My boss made me an offer I can't refuse . . . although he probably didn't realize it at the time.”

“What kind of offer?”

“Assistant editor if Connor's interview didn't get me the job at the
Heritage
.” Mac peeked up at Ethan through her lashes. “But Grant didn't stipulate that I had to apply for it.”

“You're
staying
in Red Leaf?”

“It looks that way. Why would I leave a place I love, people I-I . . . love, when I'm already doing
what
I love?”

“I think I actually understand that.” Ethan released a slow smile. “But changing your plan . . . now I'll have to change mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had it all figured out. I was going to make dinner reservations at Salvatore's in Milwaukee. Woo you with chocolate and flowers and convince you that we could make a long-distance relationship work.”

“You were?” she squeaked.

“In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty crazy about you, Mackenzie Davis, and I really hope you feel the same way.”

A good reporter always told the truth . . .

“I'm actually pretty crazy about you too,” she whispered.

Ethan's hands tightened around Mac's waist. “Then I suggest we come up with a new plan.”

“What kind of new plan?”

“A burger at the Korner Kettle tomorrow night. After that, we'll take a walk around the lake and look for a full moon. How does that sound?” As Ethan drew her closer, Mac saw the promise in his eyes.

The promise of a future together.

“It sounds”—Mac smiled as Ethan bent his head to kiss her—“absolutely perfect.”

A heartfelt THANK YOU to Daisy Hutton and the
amazing team at HarperCollins Christian Publishing for giving me another opportunity to use all the wedding intel I gathered two summers ago when our children (all THREE of them!) got married.

Editor Becky Monds, Lorie Jones, Karli Jackson, Elizabeth Hudson, and Katie Bond—you all make this so easy (and so much fun!).

And to Pete, for providing Friday night pizza, melt-me hugs, and the occasional emergency cupcake when I'm having a bad day. But especially because you still look at me the way you did when we were married twenty-seven years ago . . . even though I no longer look like I did twenty-seven years ago!

And to the Creator for writing the very first romance and showing me what true love is all about.