by Casey Dawes
Sarah blushed.
“Amen.” The women chorused.
• • •
Sarah’s daughter, Hannah, toddled down the aisle first, clutching the basket full of petals. Mandy, as their mutual maid of honor, tried to help her toss the flowers on the ground, but the little girl would have none of it. When she reached the front of the outdoor chapel, she sat on the ground and began to transfer the petals, one by one, to the ground around her.
A murmur of laughter came from the attendees.
Hunter and Raúl stood on either side of the priest, but Alicia’s gaze focused on the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. He was her rock and protector, and she had become his solace when times were tough, and joy when things went well.
Sarah preceded her down the aisle, but she didn’t mind. “Age before beauty,” she’d kidded. Her heart was full. She stole glances at her friends and family. For once, Luis was silent in Abuela’s lap, his eyes wide while he watched her. Annie’s John and Mandy’s James sat together. Elizabeth and her mother slipped next to Marcos in the front row.
Even Annie’s son, David, was there, a slim girl with corkscrew hair next to him.
Once she and Sarah stood next to Hunter and Raúl, soft guitar chords filled the air. Annie’s voice soared over the sounds of finches and doves, singing out the opening lines of Paul Stookey’s Wedding Song.
As the melody went on, she looked at Raúl, glad of his presence beside her. They would be good, just like Sarah and Hunter. Their children would play together, just like real cousins.
Love’s spirit could overcome every adversity.
She repeated the familiar words that bound her with Raúl, and he to her.
“Alicia, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity ...”
As soon as he finished, she slipped his ring onto his finger. “... In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
Mandy’s catering company had laid out a spread for the guests, and Alicia found herself catching up with conversations with old and new friends. She’d put a few morsels on her plate and had little time to eat it before another person grabbed her attention.
“Come with me,” Raúl said, taking her by the hand and leading her down the path that went to the ocean overlook.
“We had our first fight here,” she said.
“Don’t remind me.”
“It won’t be our last.”
“Probably not.” He pulled her toward him. “But we’ll survive them. Just like that ocean—we’ll go on forever.”
“I love you, Raúl.”
“I love you, Mrs. Mendez.”
She lifted her face to his, and he placed his lips over hers. They kissed for a long while, the only sounds the brush of the ocean waves on distant cliffs, and a single seagull overhead.
SNEAK PEEK EXCERPT FROM
Sweet Montana Christmas by Casey Dawes
After six months as a public safety officer at Missoula International Airport, something had to give for Zach Crippin. He couldn’t be stuck in Montana for the rest of his airport career.
He checked his gear bag one more time before he threw it in the locker for the start of his ten-hour shift. A quick look in the mirror showed him his uniform was pressed and tidy and his streaked blond hair was neatly combed. Almost time for a haircut. He had to look and act sharp—be at the top of his game.
Couldn’t the chief see he was ready for a leadership role? Or was the stupid mistake he’d made in Denver still holding him back?
“All quiet?” he asked as he walked into the break room.
“Tony’s patrolling the perimeter, and Jim’s out front making nice with the last of the Christmas travelers,” Pat Neucomb said, looking up from the training manual he was reading.
“Once all the festivities have passed, they’re ready to get home,” Zach agreed, trying to make small talk. It wasn’t one of his strengths. Especially with people he didn’t like.
And he didn’t like Pat. Not that Pat wasn’t a nice guy. He was too nice, the kind other guys like to have around.
A talent Zach didn’t have, but he was working on it. He had two rules to constantly remember: be nice to the other guys, and don’t get entangled with a woman in any serious manner.
“At least the weather’s clear,” Pat said.
“Yep.” His capacity for chitchat exhausted, Zach headed for the training room.
Working at the airport was 99 percent routine, lots of checking, drills, with a few moments a month of adrenaline-rushing crises. The team covered all the services that other airports broke out into separate units: fire, medical, police, and airfield operations. The variety was interesting, but he ached to get back to a bigger airport where he had a real chance at advancement.
Then he could begin fixing the other thing that had gone wrong in Denver. Oh, not with Erin—she’d already moved on—but with a new woman who had a little more patience with his work.
He clicked the icon for federal security updates. With all the different disciplines the airport required, the training was constant. After a half hour of brushing up on the latest government regulations, he switched it off with relief. Dry as the dirt on his parents’ Iowa farm after a month without rain. Who wrote this crap? Couldn’t they liven it up a little? Even cartoons would be better.
After checking his appearance one more time, he headed out to the small brick lobby, a smile on his face, and a gun on his hip. Although little happened, he was helping people feel safer simply by being there.
He walked back and forth through the lobby, watching the surge of travelers deplane, stand around for their baggage, and then dissipate. He always wondered what out-of-towners thought of the mounted animals in display cases and Native American decorations that hung on the high walls of the terminal.
Two young women, college students probably, gave him big smiles as they walked to baggage claim. An older woman asked his assistance to locate her gate. An hour before his shift ended, he reunited a young boy with his mother.
He’d miss this interaction with the public at a bigger airport.
“Um ...” A woman with a slim face and brown curls tumbling all around it fidgeted with her two suitcases, three shopping bags, and oversized purse in front of him.
Why is it some women need so much luggage?
She was about five six, and, while she wasn’t beautiful, her face and figure reminded him of one of Santa’s elves. An elf with curves in all the right places.
She also had the most delicious set of lips he’d seen in a while. What was it one of his trainers had called them?
Bee-stung. Plump, pouty, and ready to be kissed.
“Excuse me?” A frown drew her perfectly arched eyebrows together.
He ushered his previous thoughts from his mind.
“How can I help you?” he asked.
“I can’t seem to find my car.”
Great. Driving around looking for a lost car in the parking lot was his least favorite chore. Most of the time, the car was right where the traveler left it. Maybe he could pawn it off on Tony, who should arrive any moment.
But she was too cute to let anyone else near her. While Zach wasn’t looking for a serious entanglement, a fling might help while away the winter hours.
She was still frowning.
“Well, are you going to help me? I can’t believe I can’t find it.”
“Where did you leave it?” He’d best be patient. Normally it was oldsters having senior moments who needed help finding their cars, not women his age. This was a great opportunity.
Those lips were begging for a kiss.
“Long-term parking,” she said.
“And you’ve already looked out there—where you left it?”
“I looked everywhere.” The corners of her mouth turned down.
Maybe she wasn’t the right one for a lighthearted friendship with benefits.
Creaking leather and the jangle of keys accompanied the footsteps co
ming up behind him.
“Do you want me to relieve you?” Tony asked Zach. “Or would you rather I take the young lady to find her car?”
Tony smiled at the girl. “Ma’am.”
Those full lips turned upward, and Zach swore she batted her eyes.
“I’d appreciate if someone will help me find it. That is one of the services you all provide, isn’t it?” A faint hint of the South honeyed her words.
Brother. He should leave her to woman-hungry Tony, but pawning off car-finding duty on someone else would detract from his effort to show he was a team player.
“You’re up for public presence duty,” Zach said with a smile to soften the words. Turning away from his teammate, he said, “If you’ll follow me, I’ll help you find your car.”
“Sue Anne.”
“Huh?”
“My name’s Sue Anne Devereaux.” Her heels beat a rapid tempo on the floor. “You are?”
“Zach Crippin.”
“I do appreciate your help, Mr. Crippin, but could you slow down just a tad? I have all these things to carry.”
Damn it. In his rush to get the chore over, he’d acted like a jerk.
“Let me help you.” He reached for the shopping bags.
“Why, thank you.” The sugar was back in her voice as she handed him the shopping bags. And the small suitcase. “I think I can handle the rest. But can you still slow down?”
“Sure.” He should make small talk, set her at ease. At least that’s what one of his training programs had said. “Where did you fly in from?”
“Seattle.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“Visiting my grandmother.”
He’d gone several strides before realizing she was no longer next to him. He turned and backtracked to where she was still standing.
“Do you think we can find it?” The worried frown was back. “I don’t ordinarily lose things. I mean, well, I do, but nothing as big as a car.”
“I’m sure we will.”
His rescue gene, the one that had impelled him into public service in the first place, kicked in. She looked like she needed a knight, even one who’d started out life as an awkward chubby kid.
She didn’t say anything else until her stuff was stowed in the back of his patrol car.
“Where do you think you left it?”
“I know I left it in the last row.”
He released the brake and pulled away from the curb. She seemed so unsure one moment and confident the next. Which one was the real person?
Oh well, he’d probably never run into her again. Too bad. He’d like to find out what those lips tasted like.
“There. That’s where I left my car.”
“And that’s not yours.”
“I drive an old Subaru Outback. That’s not it. Obviously.”
The girl he’d had a crush on in junior high had used that exact same tone when she’d turned him down for a date.
Miss Sue Anne Devereaux, no doubt a former debutante, was off the possibilities list forever.
He steeled himself for the next fifteen minutes—the time it took him to tour both parking lots.
“Okay. Let’s take it row by row.” The sun set early in January, and the light was already fading. He started the car down the well-lit pavement.
How did someone misplace a car?
His ex, Erin, would never have lost her car. She had been a confident nurse who knew what she wanted—a ring on her finger, a house in the burbs, and enough income to be a stay-at-home mom.
He’d almost made it happen for her.
He drove slowly up and down the rows, stewing about their breakup, ready for the ride to end.
• • •
Sue Anne couldn’t wait to get out of the patrol car. Maybe the search would have been more fun with the other cop. This one was way too serious. He drove with a frown on his face, looking like he’d eaten a full bowl of lima beans.
If she ever met someone who liked lima beans, she’d steer clear.
“Do you like lima beans?”
“What?”
She’d obviously snapped him out a full-bore daydream.
“Do you like lima beans?”
A hint of a smile turned up the corner of his lips. “Planning on feeding me some if I find your car?”
“Only if you like them dipped in chocolate.”
“Huh?”
“I’m just curious.”
“Sure. My mom used to make them—not too mushy, lots of salt and pepper, and drowned in butter.” His lips curled up a little more. “But I like chocolate better, if that’s what you’re offering.”
Was he flirting with her?
He was kinda cute, in a cop sort of way. But then there was that grumpy side of him. That must be the part that liked that disgusting food. Those little pods had to interfere with endorphins somehow.
“Could it be in short-term parking? We’re almost at the end of the lot.”
“I wouldn’t leave it there. I was gone for almost two weeks.” But she’d been running late for her outbound flight. Crap. If she’d done that, there was going to be a really big bill.
“And you’re sure you left it here? I mean, you didn’t have a boyfriend drop you off or something.”
Hah. If he knew her boyfriend, he’d know Reed would never inconvenience himself like that. What had his excuse been? Oh, yeah, drinking with his buddies.
“Quite sure my boyfriend didn’t drop me off.”
His lips drooped a little, although she wasn’t sure why.
And why was she staring so intently at his lips? She had a boyfriend, even if she was thinking about dumping him.
Lima beans. Ick.
“Well, let’s take a look, just in case.”
“Okay.”
Maybe someone stole my car. That would be good. Insurance would cover it. Then I could get something else. Something with more zip. More class.
Something that didn’t scream aging hippies.
They’d hit the second row when she spotted it. “That’s it.”
Zach cleared his throat.
He had better not be smug. He was already too full of himself.
“Let’s see if it starts,” he said.
A note was on the driver’s seat.
Needed to borrow it. Reed.
Short and definitely not sweet. She was so over him.
“Someone borrowed it. That’s why it’s here.” Somehow it was important that Zach knew she wasn’t a total ditz.
“Give your car keys out to everyone?” Zach hauled her luggage from the back of the patrol car and lugged it to her car.
“No. Just one person.” One soon-to-be-dead person.
“Someone who couldn’t bother to let you know where he’d left the car?”
“Yeah.”
He shook his head, but whether he couldn’t believe what Reed had done or that she had lent her keys to someone like him wasn’t clear.
The headache that had been simmering since she’d gotten off the plane gripped her temples.
She couldn’t do anything about the asshole cop, but it was definitely time to dump Reed. This car fiasco was one of a long line of incidents where he’d shown his total disregard for her feelings.
“See if it starts,” Zach said, command in his voice.
The engine started smoothly. Her University of Montana classmates had instilled in her a habit of car maintenance the first winter she’d moved to the state.
So there.
She fished a business card from her purse and got out of the car, hoping her face reflected the triumph of a woman starting a car all by her little self in the Montana winter.
“Thanks for your help, officer. I owe you. My chocolate shop is opening in February”—at least she hoped it was—“Stop by, and I’ll give you a sample.”
“Nice. My mother used to make chocolate.”
An odd tone in his voice made her look up at him. Several expressions crossed his face, like the rapidn
ess of clouds chasing each other around the valley. She stared into his eyes, trying to decipher what the frowns and smiles meant.
“I shouldn’t do this,” he said, “but it appears I’m going to.”
The realization of what he was going to do hit seconds before his lips landed on hers.