How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  He released a deep breath. Scared or not, confused or not, he would be with Skye this afternoon. He would hold her in his arms while the music played and while he tried not to step on her toes.

  And if opportunity allowed, he would kiss her again.

  Skye came around the corner of her dance studio at a quarter before the hour. The Jeep was parked at the curb. Grant leaned his backside against it, his legs braced, ankles crossed, face shaded by his hat brim.

  Add a guitar and it’d make a great album cover.

  “You’re early again,” she said with a smile.

  He straightened away from the vehicle. “Guess I’m eager to get the footwork right.”

  Heart tripping, she put the key in the lock and turned the deadbolt.

  “Tell me something,” he said from nearby.

  “What’s that?” The words were nearly inaudible, even to herself.

  “You park in the back lot, but you don’t go in through the backdoor. How come?”

  Well, that wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask. It left her disappointed, to say the least. She faced him. “Habit, more than anything. And the lock on the backdoor sticks sometimes, so coming around to the front is easier than fighting with it.”

  “Mmm.” He pulled on the bar to open the door. “Maybe I should look at the lock and get it to stop sticking.”

  “Sure. If you want to.”

  Skye led the way inside, Grant following right behind. The interior of the studio was bathed in shadows. It was tempting to leave it that way. More romantic. But she forced herself to open the blinds and let in the sunlight. Best if she remembered why they were here. She’d promised Charity the entire wedding party would be the best dancing bunch this valley had ever seen.

  “We’re going to work on the two-step today,” she said, heading for the stereo. “This is the Two-Step Dance Studio, after all.”

  “What about that waltz we did last week? I didn’t master that yet.”

  She smiled at the uncertainty in his voice. “You will. We still have time. I want you able to do at least two dances at the wedding. So we’ll get the basics of the two-step down this week, and next week we’ll start perfecting it and the waltz.”

  He shook his head slowly but said nothing.

  Skye selected a Josh Turner album from her collection of music on the iPod. Punching the control, she fast-forwarded to the last track, “Why Don’t We Just Dance.” Josh’s deep voice came through the speakers.

  “Great song,” Grant said.

  She turned toward him again. “Just listen to it. Get a feel for the tempo. Count it out. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.” She patted herself near her collarbone for several bars. “Feel that beat. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Feel it on your insides.”

  “Okay. I’m feelin’ it.”

  “We’re going to dance to those six beats.” She paused the player, plunging the studio into silence. She returned to stand before Grant. “For the man, the first step always starts with his left foot. So put your weight on your right. We’re not going to move at first. Just step in place. There are two quick steps, followed by two slow steps.”

  “How quick?” Unmistakable dread filled his voice.

  She couldn’t help herself. She took hold of his hands, then rose on tiptoe to kiss him lightly, almost playfully, on the lips. “You can do this. Relax. Okay? Relax.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he muttered—but he was smiling again.

  She squeezed his hands before releasing them. “Left is one. Right is two. Left is three, four. Right is five, six. Quick. Quick. Slow. Slow. Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” He took a half step forward. “But when do we get to the part where I get to hold you?”

  She laughed. “When you earn it.”

  “Knew there had to be a catch.”

  Her mom had always said that falling in love was exhausting because of all the highs and lows involved, but that being in love for the long haul was like a good fire on a cold winter night, full of comfort. Skye wasn’t sure about the second part, but the first part was wrong. She found falling in love exhilarating. It was all highs so far.

  “Teacher?”

  “Hmm.”

  “I don’t think I can wait.”

  And he didn’t. He grabbed the brim of his hat, pulled it off his head, and tossed it aside. Then he placed his index finger under her chin, tipped her head back, and lowered his mouth to hers. Skye felt the kiss all the way down to her toes, and she was grateful when he wrapped his arms around her, lest she crumple into a helpless heap at his feet.

  I love you, Grant. I know it’s happening fast, but I love you.

  He ended the kiss and drew back, though not far. His breath still warmed her cheek. She opened her eyes to look up into his.

  “Miss Foster,” he said, voice low, “I’ve completely forgotten the steps.”

  “Strange, Mr. Nichols. So have I.”

  On matters of a romantic nature, Grant would have preferred to talk to Buck Malone. A year ago, Grant’s good friend had been a lot like him when it came to thoughts of marriage. Although for different reasons than Grant, Buck hadn’t been interested in settling down with one woman. Meeting Charity had changed his mind.

  But Buck was in the backcountry for the next week with a large group of riders, and Grant couldn’t wait until his return. He needed advice now. When he arrived at the Leonard Ranch on Thursday, he went looking for Chet. Grant found his boss in a stall in the barn, doctoring a wound on a yearling’s chest.

  “Mornin’,” Grant said as he leaned his arms on the top rail.

  Chet glanced up, then returned to his task. “Morning.”

  “What happened to this young fella?”

  “Not sure. Looks like he tangled with barbed wire. But I had the boys look for loose wire or a downed fence, and they couldn’t find anything.”

  Grant placed a boot on the bottom rail. “Any changes in our plans for the rest of the week?”

  “Nope. You’ll be doing all of your cooking at the chef’s patio. No trail rides. Lunch and dinner today. Dinners only the rest of the week.” Chet straightened and patted the yearling’s neck. “Do you need help? Sam’s around if you want him to join you.”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.” He took a few steps back as Chet reached for the gate. “But I was wondering if you had a minute to talk.”

  “Sure. What’s up?” Chet came out of the stall.

  “I . . . I . . .” Grant took a slow, deep breath. “It’s about Skye Foster.”

  Chet cocked an eyebrow. “What about her?”

  “Well, I—” Why did he feel so tongue tied? Spit it out already. “To tell you the truth, Chet, I think I’m falling in love with her.”

  “Yeah?”

  “No. Not quite right. I think I’ve fallen in love with her. Past tense. Already happened.”

  “And the problem is . . .?” Chet leaned a shoulder against the stall.

  Grant removed his hat and ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t know that there is one. But it all happened so fast. I’ve never known anyone like her before. And I knew plenty of girls before I came to Idaho. I hooked up with someone different at every party, without any intention of ever seeing any of them again. That’s why I haven’t dated since I got here. I thought it better to give all women a wide berth while I turned my life around. I didn’t want to fall into my old patterns.”

  “I know. I thought it was a sound plan.”

  “Chet, I never planned to get married. I figured I’d stay a bachelor the rest of my life.”

  His friend chuckled. “But you’re thinking about marriage anyway.”

  “Yeah. I guess I am. I mean, that’s the only place love can lead for a Christian couple. Right?”

  “I’d say that’s true. If that’s what God has for you and Skye.”

  Grant walked to the far end of the barn and looked out at the paddocks beyond the open doors. “If that’s what God has for you and Skye.” If marriag
e was what God wanted for them, then everything would work out. The things he worried about now wouldn’t matter anymore.

  Chet arrived at his side.

  “When I’m with her,” Grant said softly, “I don’t have any doubts. Except about my dancing.” They both chuckled. “When I’m with her, all I want is to stay with her. To be with her all the time. To hear her laughter. To listen to her talk . . . about anything. She’s interesting and funny, and we like the same music and books. We both like the outdoors. She’ll always want to own horses and so will I. Having them will probably keep us strapped for cash, but neither of us will care. We don’t have expensive tastes. It’s like—” He shrugged. “It’s like we were meant for each other.”

  “Maybe you are.”

  Grant finally cracked a smile. “But you’re not going to tell me what to do, are you?”

  “No.” Chet shook his head. “You’ll have to wrestle through your questions with God. I’m not in the matchmaking business.” He chuckled again. “But I will tell you this: when I fell in love with Kimberly, I didn’t think it was going to work out between us. Unlike you and Skye, we had lots of differences that seemed certain to keep us apart. But God has a way of cutting through the stuff we think is impossible. He’ll do the same for you, if you’re listening to Him.”

  “And you don’t think this has happened too fast between us?”

  “It all depends, I suppose. But I’ve known more than one couple who fell in love in a matter of days or weeks and who are still married after thirty or forty or even fifty years. I know another couple that courted for years, and they were divorced before the first year was out. I’m not saying you should rush. I’m saying there’s no set timetable. God’s timing is what matters. Not yours.”

  Strange, the calmness that fell over him. As if all of his questions had been answered. As if all of his worries had been swept away.

  “Thanks, Chet. You’ve been a big help.”

  Skye rode River out of the arena and walked him toward the lean-to. Once there, she dismounted and quickly set about removing his saddle and bridle.

  “You’re going to be a champ,” she said as she slipped his halter on. “Aren’t you, boy?”

  The horse’s ears flicked forward and he turned his head away from her. She had to follow right along with him in order to fasten the buckle. That’s when she saw Grant walking toward her.

  An already perfect day got instantly better.

  “Hey, Skye.” Small clouds of dirt rose behind his boots as he walked.

  “Hey, Grant.” Her heart did a little trill in her chest.

  They had spoken on the phone several times since his last dance lesson, but this was the first she’d seen him in person in several days. It surprised her, how the sight of him made her feel.

  “River looked great out there,” he said, stopping nearby.

  “You saw?”

  “Some. I stayed in my Jeep. Didn’t want to take a chance of disturbing him.” He paused. “Or you.”

  One more thing to love about Grant. He knew better than to interrupt a horse in training. He was willing and able to be patient.

  She said, “I thought you were working all day at the Leonards’.”

  “I am. But I wanted to see you before I start cooking again.”

  She didn’t know if she should be delighted or worried. Was it something urgent? Or was it something he’d rather not say over the phone? Such as he couldn’t go to her parents’ home for Sunday dinner. Her mom would be disappointed if that was what he’d come to say.

  “Come here, you.” He took hold of her upper arms and drew her to him. “There. That’s better.” He embraced her, holding her close.

  “I’m all horsey.”

  “I like horsey.” He kissed her on the forehead.

  “And gritty.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” He lowered his head so their lips could meet. A long, slow, luscious kiss.

  River snorted hard, spraying them both.

  They broke apart. Neither of them spoke. Then, in unison, they laughed.

  “River,” Grant said, “you’re a real killjoy.” He reached for Skye’s left hand and drew her away from the lean-to and the horse. “I’ve got something important to say, and I need your full attention.”

  She sobered. “Okay. You’ve got it.” Her mouth went dry, and she found it hard to swallow.

  “Skye Foster, since the day I met you, I haven’t been able to think straight.”

  Now she didn’t seem able to breathe.

  “But I feel like I know you better than some people I’ve known my whole life. I told you last Sunday that I wanted to see where things might go between us. That’s not quite true anymore.”

  “It isn’t?” she whispered.

  “No, because I already know where it’s going. I already know what I feel.” He took a half step closer to her. “Call me crazy if you want, but . . . I love you.”

  He loves me?

  “I’ve never said that to a woman before. Never said it to anybody who isn’t a member of my family. Never.”

  You haven’t?

  “I’d like you to become a member of my family, Skye. Will you marry me?”

  Vision blurred by unexpected tears, Skye’s happiness bubbled over into laughter. Grant took a step back from her, and she realized he thought she was laughing at him, at his proposal.

  “Wait. Grant. No. I mean, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  “You will? Wahoo!”

  He picked her up underneath the arms and spun her around and around. Her legs flew out like swings at the carnival. The first thing he did when he set her down was kiss her again. Only the kiss was different this time. The kiss claimed her for his own. She felt winded by the time he straightened.

  “I’ve gotta get back to work,” he said. “I don’t want to, but I’ve got to.”

  “I know. It’s all right. Go.”

  “I don’t have a ring for you yet.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Can I come to your house tonight when I’m done at the Tamarack? It’ll be late.”

  She grinned. “That’s okay too. I’ll wait up.”

  It was close to midnight before Grant pulled his Jeep into Skye’s driveway. The light above the front stoop was on, shedding a warm yellow glow several feet in all directions. Another light inside the house told him he was expected.

  He hopped out of the vehicle and strode to the front door. Rather than ring the bell, he rapped lightly. The door opened in seconds. Skye looked up at him, eyes sleepy. Or would he call them dreamy?

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hi.” She shoved tousled hair back from her face.

  “You were asleep.”

  “On the sofa.”

  He cupped the side of her face, leaned forward, and kissed her. “I shouldn’t have asked you to wait up.”

  “Yes, you should have. I needed to see you. I needed to know I wasn’t dreaming earlier today.”

  “You weren’t dreaming.”

  Holding on to the front of his shirt, she drew him over the threshold. He caught the open door with his fingertips and swiped it closed. He became instantly aware of how alone they were in this little bungalow. He remembered how easy it could be—with the right words, with the right look in his eyes, with the pressure of his lips—to help a girl let down her defenses.

  Careful, he warned himself. Be careful.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, intruding on the silence. “There’s Coke in the fridge, or I could make some decaf.”

  He wasn’t thirsty, but a little distance between them might be a good thing. “Decaf would be great.”

  “I’ll get it for you.”

  She turned and headed into the kitchen. He followed a few moments behind. On the opposite side of the kitchen bar, he sat on a stool and watched as she filled the carafe with water and poured it into the coffeemaker’s reservoir.

  “Did you tell anybody?” he asked at last.
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  She faced him but stayed where she was. “No. I didn’t know if you wanted me to yet.” She tipped her head slightly to one side. “Did you tell anyone?”

  “No.” He smiled. “But it was hard not to with so many people in and out of the kitchen tonight. I thought I’d explode with the news. I didn’t expect that. Then again, I didn’t expect any of this. People tried to tell me it would be like this. My parents. My brothers and sisters. Have I mentioned the Nicholses are a romantic lot? I didn’t think I got that particular gene, but I was wrong.”

  “Not sure you told me about them being romantics. However, I can tell your parents raised you with good manners. When I’m with you I feel . . . protected.” She returned his smile. “Cherished.”

  Who knew it would feel this good to hear her say something like that? And it made him determined to keep her feeling protected and cherished, determined not to hurt her or abuse her trust in even the smallest of ways.

  “Grant?”

  “Hmm.” It was hard not to get off the stool and go take her in his arms again.

  “Let’s wait to tell anybody here in Kings Meadow until after we have dinner with my parents on Sunday. Is that all right with you? I’d like the two of us to tell them in person first.”

  The sounds and scent of coffee brewing filled the kitchen.

  “Sure. That’s fine with me. Do you think they’ll take it all right? It happening so fast, I mean.”

  She nodded. “I think so. As soon as they really get to meet you, they’ll know we’re right for each other.”

  “I’ll wait to call my parents until Sunday night.”

  “Will they take it all right?”

  He chuckled. “All they’ll want to know is when do they get to meet you and how soon is the wedding.” Surprise shot through him when he realized how he wanted to answer them. “Can I tell them it will be soon?”

  Her large, dark eyes widened, all traces of sleepiness long gone. “How soon?”

  “How about at the end of September or early October?”

  She walked toward him, stopping with the bar still between them. “Yes. The colors will be turning by then. A perfect backdrop for a wedding. It will be beautiful.”