by Amanda Ashby
“Yes, well, I’m not taking any chances. From now on I’ll be telling you frequently. Perhaps accompanied by public displays of affection. It could get embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than showing a server the color of my panties?” Bec grinned as she finally allowed her eyes to take in his face—his full mouth, the angle of his cheeks, the way his hair fell across his brow. Her stomach churned with desire as she leaned forward and her mouth found his.
Oh, how I’ve missed this.
The velvet box dropped to the ground as his arms wrapped around her, drawing her closer until the wishing bridge, the lights, and the music all faded away. He was really with her. He’d asked her to marry him. We’re getting married. Despite the estate. Despite what his mother said to me…
Wait.
She pulled away.
“What about Snowden Manor? Lincoln, I don’t want to be the reason you lose it.” Bec’s voice was a little above a whisper as his finger trailed down her collarbone. Her mouth went dry.
“And I don’t want the estate to be the reason I lose you. The good news is it turns out Theo knows a location scout who’s already booked it out for the next six months. Not because it’s grand and old, but because of the ‘faded gothic splendor,’ as I believe you once called it. Plus, my mother’s decided to take a leaf out of your book.”
“Your mom’s getting an owl tattoo?” Bec croaked, pulling herself out of the foggy wave of desire sweeping through her.
His eyes twinkled as his mouth pulled into a smile. A mouth so close her stomach contracted.
“Weddings. She and Howard are going to run very, very expensive weddings there,” he murmured as he finally kissed her. It was an explosion of longing, and Bec’s arms wrapped around him, just to hold on. If this was what Pepper meant by standing still, she was all for it.
Finally, he pulled back, and she asked, “So why didn’t you call me? I left a million messages. Or tell Pepper who the bride and groom really were?”
“Actually, I did tell Pepper, but I asked her not to mention it. It’s just that I screwed up on such an epic scale I wanted to make sure I could talk to you in person and fix it all. Properly. Finally. She took some convincing.”
Bec’s eyes widened. “And Coop? Is that why he sent me down here?”
Lincoln nodded. “I also figured, since he’s your best friend, I’d better get him on my side. I’m pretty sure I also promised to buy far too much beer from him.”
Bec couldn’t help but smile. That did sound like Coop. Then she peered back into Lincoln’s face. The shadows and light flickered and danced around his cheekbones, making him look otherworldly.
“And what about you?” she asked. “Is this really what you want?”
“More than anything. I just hope it’s what you want. I don’t have much to offer. Just some oil paintings and a bit of Elvis memorabilia.”
“Elvis?” Bec blinked.
“Elvis,” he confirmed, his fingers weaving into hers. “Miss Dottie and I signed the paperwork this morning. I’m the proud owner of the bed and breakfast. Which could’ve made things awkward if this had gone badly. You know how small towns can be with the gossip.”
“I do. I’ve been the source of my fair share over the years,” Bec said as he brushed her lips with his mouth. She caught her breath. “But how do you have the money?”
“We auctioned some of the artwork we’d been holding on to, worried that if we sold it, our reputation would dip even further. Suddenly, it seemed like a ridiculous reason to keep paintings that we didn’t even like.”
“So, we’re really doing this?”
“We really are,” he said as his mouth found hers. She let out a soft sigh. She always knew the best things happened at night, and this just proved it.
Epilogue
“What happened to the cliff top photographs you’d planned?” Lincoln asked as he slid his arm around Bec’s waist and breathed in her scent. Despite the November weather, the sun had come out as they’d watched his mother and Howard exchange their vows down by the wishing bridge.
The wishing bridge, where I became the happiest guy in the world.
“My thinking was twofold.” A slow smile stretched across her mouth as she leaned into him, her body perfectly fitting his and making him wish that instead of being at a wedding, they were alone in the cottage. “First, I wasn’t sure I was ready to share that spot with the rest of the world. And second, when you told me it was your mom and Howard who were getting married, I just knew that Matilda needed to be in the photographs. And look how happy they are.”
“You’re right.” Lincoln looked over to the old tractor, which was covered in daisy chains. His mother was perched on the seat with Howard protectively holding her hands, his gaze never leaving hers, while over to the left, Theo was flirting with Abby, who’d provided the flowers. “It’s the perfect shot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them happier. Thank you for making this happen.”
“I’m a wedding planner. That’s what I do.” Bec twisted in his arms so that she was peering up at him. Desire stabbed through him. I’m going to be with her for the rest of my life. “And the fact that your mom and Howard have scarily similar tastes to Julia and Richard definitely helped.”
“Ah, yes. Poor Julia and Richard. They never did get their happy ever after.” Lincoln grinned as his fingers inched farther around her waist. The slight swell of her belly sent warmth flooding through him. Last night he’d watched the video of the sonogram over and over again as Bec had snuggled in his arms, her hair tickling his chin. It had been perfect.
She’s perfect. Perfect for me.
“All I know is that we’ve got our happy ever after, and so have your mom and Howard. Speaking of which, your mom came to see me this morning while I was decorating the bridge. She had something to give me. She thought I might want to wear it today.”
“She did?” Lincoln took in a sharp breath. Before they’d flown over to America, he and his mother had a frank discussion about Bec, and she’d wanted him to give her some of the family jewels that had been passed down to each bride. Lincoln had tried to explain that Bec would probably run a mile if she saw the oversize emerald and diamond necklace and tiara set in question. “Okay, well, I’ll apologize in advance. I did try and tell her that we wanted to start our own traditions rather than sticking with the old ones.”
“Funny, that’s exactly what she said.” Bec’s mouth twitched with amusement as she reached around her neck and lifted up a delicate chain with a tiny glass bottle attached to it. Inside were tiny flakes of—actually, he had no idea what they were.
He frowned. “Okay, that’s not a tiara.”
“No, it’s not. It’s some of the stone from the abbey,” Bec explained. “She wanted me to have it as a reminder that I’d managed to bring a family back together. Back to life. You know, Lincoln, I’m starting to love your mom.”
“She’s starting to love you, too.” His throat tightened as the heat from her body pressed against him. He lowered his mouth to hers, and fireworks exploded in his chest.
“Good.” Bec grinned as she finally pulled away from him. “Now, tell me more about this tiara.”
“Well, it’s hideously ugly, and it weighs a ton. Oh, and there’s a matching necklace and earrings. Here, I have a photograph of it on my cell phone. Officially, they’ll belong to you, but you don’t have to wear them if you don’t want.” He reluctantly unwrapped his arm from around her to show her the photos.
Bec wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I think I like my bottle of stone flakes better. And it’s not heavy at all.”
“And that’s why I love you,” Lincoln said as his heart hammered because of the woman next to him. The one who saw beneath the surface of everything, down to what really mattered.
“I love you, too.” She leaned up and kissed him again, just as his mother and Howard beckoned them to join them for a photograph. Lincoln slipped his hand into Bec’s and they walked over. They really had
planned the perfect wedding.
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Acknowledgments
No books get written without my trusty sidekicks, Christina Phillips and Sara Hantz. Of course calling them sidekicks doesn’t even begin to cover how much they’ve helped me over the last fourteen years.
A big shout out to Rachel Bailey who is wise in the ways of most things. Especially snacking and plotting.
I’d also like to thank Susan Hawk and everyone at The Bent Agency for sticking by me all these years. As ever, I’m crazy grateful.
An extra big hug to Amy Jo Hart for liking my weird humor and for reminding me why I write.
To Candace Havens. Wow. Just wow. Getting to hang out with you in New Zealand was such a great moment in time (and by hang out, I mean bombard you with Buffy and Supernatural questions). And then getting to work with you has been mind blowing. Also to Crystals Havens, Lisa Filipe, and everyone at Entangled. What a joy it’s been!
About the Author
Amanda Ashby was born in Australia but now lives in New Zealand where she writes romance, young adult, and middle grade books. She also works in a library, owns far too many vintage tablecloths and likes to delight her family by constantly rearranging the furniture. You can find out more about her and her latest books at www.amandaashby.com.
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