The Bridesmaid Earns Her Wings: Moonchuckle Bay Romantic Comedy #2

by Heather Horrocks

  “I can paint you with whichever monsters you’d like.”

  Dixie studied the easel beside her new acquaintance. “This one has a werewolf?”

  “Yes. I can add in vampires, dragons, Big Foot.”

  The large green troll — which special effects had done an amazing job with, she had to say — grunted and Amber smiled. “And trolls.”

  Dixie looked up at the creature. He was grotesque, but also kind of noble looking. “Can you paint me in with this troll?”

  “With Henry. Sure.”

  The troll grinned and Dixie caught a whiff of the smellovision. Funky was right.

  “Henry, this is my new friend, Dixie Abbott. Dixie, this is Henry, my official protector.”

  The troll bowed his head toward her, and Dixie bowed back.

  She heard the sounds of men’s voices and turned back to see Michael and the stranger who’d spoken with her talking heatedly.

  What was that all about?

  As the silver-haired stranger strode off, looking like a warrior in a graphic novel or a classic comic book, Michael came toward her.

  Amber said, “He doesn’t look happy.”

  “No. Excuse me, please.”

  “Of course.”

  When Dixie reached Michael, he took her hands. “Was that man bothering you?”

  She shrugged. “He was a little weird, but nice enough. He wasn’t bothering me.”

  “What did he ask you?”

  He looked and sounded jealous, which made her feel better. She smiled. “He asked me my name, and I told him Dixie. Then he asked me about my family. When I told him they live in Wamego, Kansas, he thanked me for my time, and, well this was kind of weird, he sniffed me. But then he just started walking away. And then,” she said, making big hand motions, “you were arguing with him. What did you say to him?”

  “I told him to leave you alone. That I was your champion.”

  Her champion? What a quaint, old-fashioned, almost medieval knight-in-shining-armor sort of thing to say. Her heart did a little flip-flop and her voice softened. “You’re my champion?”

  He looked into her eyes and his face relaxed. “Yes.”

  She liked having a guy to watch over her. Maybe he was her soul mate, maybe not. She didn’t know how to know for sure.

  But all of a sudden, she did know that she wanted to kiss him.

  As she took a step nearer, surprise flared in his eyes, and then the corners of his lips quirked up. He put a hand on her waist and pulled her closer.

  Her breath caught at his touch and swirls of warmth filled her.

  His breath caught, too, so she knew she was having the same effect on him, and that made her feel very powerful in her femininity.

  He leaned in closer and—

  “Ha, ha, ha.” A loud, rumbling chuckling startled them both. The troll was laughing.

  They both jerked back, and she remembered that they were standing in Town Square, with hundreds of tourists around, along with who knew how many townsfolk, and a faux troll.

  Here they were again, about to kiss in public with far too many people around.

  Michael rolled his eyes. “Henry, do you mind?”

  The monster waved a massive hand. “Go ahead.”

  But the spell was broken.

  Michael looked at Dixie. “Would you like to see a movie? In a dark theater. Where people won’t notice a kiss or two?”

  “I’d love that.”

  He guided her toward the theater, grabbing the hotdogs on the way.

  The buzzing increased in Michael’s limbs, now becoming a cozy warmth that swirled through him. Surely this meant she was his lifemate.

  He’d thought she was attractive before, but he could barely keep his hands off of her now as they walked toward the theater.

  A woman holding a small jar came toward them, bowing to the princess. “Excuse me, Highness. I was wondering if you would be willing to endorse my fairy root dust, grown and harvested in the fields of my father.”

  Dixie looked at the woman with kindness in her eyes. And maybe a little pity. “I wish I could help you, but I’m sure no one will care if I endorse it.”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong, Lady.”

  Michael raised a hand. “I’ll buy a bottle of your fairy root dust for the lady.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir,” the woman said, but she was clearly disappointed.

  “How much?” he asked.

  “Fifty dollars, sir.”

  He smiled at the woman, who was obviously an astute reader of people. He could hardly not buy it now, could he? He pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and exchanged it for the small corked bottle.

  He lifted it to his nose, expecting a lower grade dust, but it was, to his surprise, primo. He looked in surprise at the woman, who shrugged. “Fields of my father.”

  He nodded and fished out a business card. “Thank you. If you come to my office tomorrow, I’ll see if I can get you representation for your product.”

  The woman walked away as his phone rang. He checked it and sighed. His father. He didn’t answer. He didn’t answer the second or third call, either.

  “You’d better get that,” Dixie said.

  Shaking his head, he pulled out his phone. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Get back here now. She is not for you. Think about it. If she was, you would have known years ago. This is just pixie magic. She’s messing with your heart, son. Most likely her father put her up to it. Bring her back to the office and forget whatever foolishness you’re doing.”

  “Isn’t that my call?”

  “No. We need you here. Emerson just arrived and wants to speak with his attorney. We can’t afford to lose that account because you’re in the mood for misguided romance.”

  Disappointed, Michael looked at Dixie. Dixie or the account. Dixie would win every time — except his father was right. The Emerson account was one of the largest of their accounts and they’d barely secured it.

  “Please, son. I need you here to handle this.”

  It was the “please” that did it. Michael sighed. “All right.”

  “Thank you. See you at the game tonight.”

  “All right, Dad.”

  “Bring the princess with you, if you must.”

  He hung up and turned to Dixie. She smiled softly at him. “No movie today, I take it.”

  “No. I’ve got to get back to the office.” He shook his head, but then smiled back at her. “Would you like to go with me to a football game tonight? Just a few of my friends and cousins are playing. I’d love to take you with me.”

  “Oh, I probably shouldn’t because I’ve hardly seen my friend Stacy since I’ve been in town.”

  “No problem. Just bring Stacy with you. I’ll arrange for a date for her.”

  “Not Ben. They didn’t get along well.”

  “No, definitely not Ben. Someone more outgoing.” He took her hand. “There’ll be a BBQ and smoothies after.”

  “Okay.” She smiled. “It’ll be fun. Until someone tackles you.”

  “Never happen,” he said.

  She lifted his hand and kissed the top. “That’s for luck.”

  He pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Maybe we can see the movie at the Woo-Woo Revue tomorrow.”

  She laughed. “During work hours or afterward?”

  “Ow. He won’t be getting up from that one!” Stacy shook her head as they watched Michael get slammed into the ground by a cousin.

  Wincing and worried, Dixie said, “Do you think he’s all right? It looks like he hit his head pretty hard. Maybe he has a concussion. Or worse.”

  They exchanged horrified glances. On the field — in this case, the huge back lawn of Michael’s parents’ mansion — the tackler put out a hand to Michael.

  “I hope he can move,” Stacy whispered.

  Dixie held her breath.

  But Michael did get up, gracefully. He shook his head, stretched, and punched his cousin in the arm. Hard.


  “Wow, did you see that?” Stacy laughed. “I can’t believe how hard they tackle. And they seem to shake it right off.”

  “I know. I’ll never understand guys. Ever.”

  There were at least a dozen men on the field, none of them wearing pads or helmets. They were all tall and muscular, but in a slender way, lots of redheads with fair Irish-type skin and a few with olive complexions and dark hair.

  There were more people milling about the large wraparound patio — the dates of the men on the field as well as several other couples.

  They’d spoken with Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, Michael’s parents, who’d greeted them warmly and had done everything they could to make them feel comfortable. They’d also been introduced to Michael’s sister, Julia, a pretty woman who’d visited with them and then excused herself to make a phone call. Apparently she worked at the family law firm, as well, but had been working from her office at home.

  His mother was walking along the cobblestone patio right now alongside a server holding a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Slender and tall, about six inches taller than Dixie, his mother walked with an animal grace. She had to be in her fifties, but she looked closer to thirty-five. Dressed in white designer jeans and a black top with white flowers, she glided over.

  The server — a smiling young man in his twenties — placed the tray gracefully on the glass-topped table before them and gave a bow before departing.

  Mrs. Murphy asked, “Do you mind if I join you ladies for a moment?”

  “Of course.” Dixie motioned. “Please sit with us.”

  She sank gracefully into the chair. “Are you enjoying the game?”

  “We were just discussing how hard they tackle each other — and then get up again as if nothing happened.”

  “Yes. We come from hardy stock.” She set a goblet of strawberry lemonade in front of each of them, then lifted hers and sipped. “Are you enjoying our town, Pixie?”

  Dixie smiled. “Actually, it’s Dixie.”

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. Of course. Dixie. I’ll try to remember.”

  “And, yes, I love Moonchuckle Bay. It’s delightful. I don’t get away from home often, so this has been a real treat for me.”

  “Have you made it to the latest studio movie yet?”

  “No.” She thought about Michael and smiled. “But I suspect we will soon.” Then she covered with, “We. Stacy and I.”

  On the field, the men crashed together again. The three women cringed at the sight and sound.

  And then all of the men got up again and lined up. Hardy stock, indeed. If they could bottle their genes, they’d make a fortune. Not that this family needed more money, apparently.

  “Have you lived here all your life?” Stacy asked.

  “Yes, other than when I went away to college. And then I came back home to marry Jack.” She glanced down fondly at the men on the field. “He was my childhood sweetheart.”

  “That’s sweet,” Dixie said, and was surprised to hear the wistful note in her voice.

  “It is,” Mrs. Murphy said. “I understand you’re working at the firm now. Is everyone treating you well?”

  “Oh, yes. Everyone has been exceptionally nice.” Except for Jillian’s obvious displeasure, but there was no need to bring her up. “I still have a lot to learn, of course.”

  Stacy laughed. “Like typing.”

  “Thanks a lot, Stacy,” Dixie said.

  “Oh, really?” Mrs. Murphy grinned. “That sounds intriguing. Well, I’m sure you have plenty of other talents and skills.” She turned to Stacy. “Are you working in town, as well, Stacy?”

  “I will be, as of tomorrow. So far, I’ve just been relaxing, but I start at the diner in the morning.”

  A cheer went up on the field that drew their attention back to the game, which was apparently now over, as the men made their way back toward the patio, laughing and clapping each other on the back.

  Mrs. Murphy called out, “Showers, and then BBQ, guys.”

  Michael shot Dixie a grin and he followed the other men into the house.

  His mother explained, “We have a shower room just for game days. Plus they’ll need to put on more sunscreen. Our family is a little sensitive to the sun. If they’re out too long, they’ll burn and then they whine and moan. You’ve heard of a man cold, right?”

  When Stacy and Dixie nodded, the older woman rolled her eyes and explained, “It’s something like that.”

  “You mean they’ll get slammed into the ground without a complaint, but they’ll whine over a sunburn?” Dixie asked.

  “Sad, but true.” His mother smiled. “I hope you like ribs and smoothies. We’ll be eating soon.”

  The scent of delicious food on the grill was already in the air.

  “I love smoothies,” Stacy said.

  “Some of our family have allergies so they have special smoothies. The rest of us have fabulous appetites, but we love the smoothies, as well. We have several flavors. Some of them, I believe, are liked by your family.”

  Well, that was just weird, but she was probably just being nice. “I look forward to trying them.”

  The men filed from the house, a few at a time, their hair still wet from their showers.

  Dixie smiled as Michael worked his way through his family members until he reached her side. “Hey, beautiful.”

  His mother’s eyes widened. “I’m sure Pix — Dixie — isn’t used to being talked to like that, Michael.”

  Dixie smiled at his mother. “I don’t mind at all, Mrs. Murphy.”

  “Well, if you’re sure,” she said, not sounding convinced.

  Michael’s father put a hand on his mother’s shoulder, and she put a hand up to cover it. “Are you all ready for dinner? We’ve worked up an appetite.”

  Stacy laughed. “We worked one up just watching you. You guys were brutal out there.”

  Michael put out a hand to Dixie and effortlessly pulled her to her feet. It was harder to see his buff physique under his suits, but with his jeans and T-shirt clinging to his muscles, it was all she could do not to touch him and see if he was as solid as he looked.

  He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Yes, he was as solid as he looked.

  His father looked disapproving. “Son, would you help me move this table over with the others?”

  He looked pointedly at Michael, who squeezed her shoulder before going to help his father.

  His mother said, “Don’t mind Jack. He gets nervous. He wouldn’t want your father to get upset over Michael moving so quickly.”

  “I don’t have a father,” Dixie said.

  His mother’s eyebrows flew up. “Really. I didn’t understand that’s how it was.” She touched Dixie’s arm. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

  “Thank you.”

  Michael came back with the cousin with the funky name who was Stacy’s date du jour. Birch Malloy. They didn’t seem to have much chemistry, but at least they were clicking more than Stacy had with Ben last night.

  After they walked through the line and filled their plates with ribs, potato salad, burgers, chips and guacamole, and all sorts of other delightful side dishes, they found a seat at the long table. Stacy and Birch sat across from them.

  Birch. The name made Dixie smile every time she thought of it — and made her wonder which branch of the family he was from.

  A server delivered smoothies to the table, and handed Dixie one with a slight green tint. She tasted it. “This is fantastic. It tastes like pineapple and mango.”

  Michael’s was the same pink color as his mother’s. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Stacy’s was a pale lavender. “Mmmm. It’s like liquid blackberries touched with honey.”

  She noticed that several of the guests had only smoothies in front of them. Were they the people with allergies? Dixie almost hated to dig in to her food, feeling bad for them, but when everyone else lifted their forks, she finally took a bite of her burger. It was perfectly cooked and seasoned.


  Michael reached out and squeezed her hand. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  Suddenly, everyone else faded from the scene and she was aware only of Michael’s blue-green eyes with their unique flicker of gold. “I am. Thank you for inviting us. I’ve enjoyed everything. Well, everything except for those moments when I thought you’d broken your neck playing a friendly game of football.”

  “Yeah, we tend to get a little crazy out there.” He threaded his fingers through hers.

  “You had us worried,” Dixie admitted, squeezing his hand.

  Stacy said, “I’m sorry to be a spoilsport, but my shift tomorrow starts at six, and I need some sleep.”

  Michael looked disappointed. “Birch can drive you home.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t tonight, much to my disappointment,” Birch said. “I just got a call and I need to head out. It’s in the other direction or I’d do it on my way.”

  Michael lowered his voice and spoke only to Dixie. “What if I drive you home and Stacy takes your car?”

  Dixie really wanted to do that, but also felt a little guilty for being with Michael so much. Things were happening so fast. She really, really wanted to stay and talk with Michael, but what she said was, “I wish I could, but I feel like I need to go with Stacy. I hope you’ll understand.”

  Disappointment flickered across his face, but he gave a small smile. “I’ll try.” His smile grew wider. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, then.”

  She wondered for a moment if he would try to kiss her here, in front of his family, but he didn’t. And she was sure disappointment flickered across her face. “Definitely. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I look forward to it.” He stood. “I’ll walk you out.”

  His mother came forward. “Are you ladies leaving? Thank you for coming. It’s been a delight having you here.” She looked at her son. “I’ll see them out, Michael.”

  Michael sighed and nodded.

  And as she walked away with Michael’s mother and Stacy, listening to his mother with only part of her mind, she wondered if she’d be typing or watching movies during her shift tomorrow.