Love Finds You in North Pole, Alaska

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Love Finds You in North Pole, Alaska Page 22

by Loree Lough


  He looked at the check again. “Sam, I can’t let you—”

  “You aren’t letting me, mister. These aren’t the dark ages. Even married women get to decide a few things for themselves nowadays!”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a slow grin. “Married women?”

  She heaved a huge sigh. “Lord, give me strength,” she said, staring at the ceiling. She removed his eye patch and tossed it onto the table. “You love me, right?”

  “More than life itself.”

  “And you know that I love you, right?”

  Bryce nodded. “Hard not to, when you’re always doing stuff like this for me.”

  “So the money isn’t really mine, then, is it? It’s ours. And I happen to think a carpentry shop will bring in just enough extra cash to help us afford, oh….” She looked left and right, as if trying to find what they’d be able to afford written on a wall. And pressing her forehead to his, Sam finished with, “We’ll be able to afford diapers, and a high chair, a crib and changing table…. I don’t want to wait years and years to have a baby. I want to start a family right away. Just as soon as we’re…”

  It dawned on her, suddenly, that Bryce still hadn’t asked her to marry him, and the fact, like a cold slap to the face, silenced her. The heat of embarrassment flooded her cheeks, and she hid them behind both hands.

  “On your feet, elf,” he barked.

  The instant she stood, he did, too. “Now, sit down, and for the love of Pete, please be quiet for five minutes, will you?”

  Sam did as he asked, her heart nearly bursting with joy when he got down onto one knee and sandwiched her left hand between both of his.

  “I don’t know why I’ve been putting this off,” he admitted, kissing her knuckles. “Guess I was waiting for just the right moment.” He looked deep into her eyes and said, “I think maybe this is that moment.” After kissing the tip of her nose, he added, “There’s a little something for you in my shirt pocket.”

  Too flat, she thought, to hold one of those little velvet ring boxes, so it couldn’t be an engagement ring.

  “Go on,” he urged. “I don’t want to turn loose of your hand to fish it out of there myself.”

  A tiny gasp popped from her lips when she withdrew a diamond-encrusted gold band.

  “I didn’t figure you for the big rock type, so I got this instead.” Bryce took it from her and started sliding it over her left ring finger, stopping at the first knuckle. “Samantha Sinclair, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she threw her arms around his neck. “Hoo-boy,” she said past the sob in her throat, “you sure do know how to scare a girl.”

  Hands on her shoulders, he held her at arm’s distance. “Scare a girl?”

  “I didn’t think you were ever going to ask me to marry you!” She kissed him. Hard. Then held out her hand so he could finish sliding the ring onto her finger.

  “Not so fast, missy,” he said, slipping it off and dropping it back into his pocket. “That’s a wedding band, not an engagement ring.” He gave the pocket two quick pats. “You want that baby,” he said, choking back tears, “you’ll have to marry me first.”

  “There’s a calendar in that drawer behind you,” she said, pointing over his shoulder.

  “Who needs a calendar? Marry me on Saturday.”

  “This Saturday?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “It’s the big ice-sculpting competition in town. Nobody will be available to perform the ceremony!”

  Bryce nodded. “Good point. So…Sunday then?”

  Her heart did a flip-flop in her chest. “Sunday it is.”

  “Does that give you time to round up a poufy white dress and tiny satin shoes and a gauzy veil that I can lift before we seal the deal?”

  “Good thing for you I’m not the big rock type or the poufy dress type, because there’s no way I could do all that in just a few days.” She winked. “But I do have time to call my folks, so let’s just pray these crazy plans of ours aren’t too last-minute for them to fly in for the wedding.”

  “It won’t be.”

  She narrowed both eyes. “You seem awfully sure of yourself….”

  “They’ll be here on Thursday. It’s all arranged.”

  “But…tomorrow is Thursday!”

  “Hmm, so it is.”

  “But…how’d you know I’d say yes?”

  Bryce kissed her, and she put everything she had into it. “That’s how.”

  Epilogue

  Bryce and Sam stood toe to toe at the entrance of the Santa Claus House amid the fresh blanket of snow God had delivered the night before. Her parents and brothers and most citizens of North Pole—wearing down-filled parkas, fat mittens, and fur-lined boots—formed a tight circle around the soon-to-be bride and groom.

  Breath-smoke puffed from Pastor Davidson’s mouth as he said, “Repeat after me. ‘I, Samantha Sinclair, do solemnly vow….’ ”

  “I, Thamantha Thinclair, do tholemnly vow…”

  Curt the barber leaned toward the pastor’s wife. “Why’s she lisping?” he whispered. “I never noticed before that Sam had a lisp….”

  “Because,” the woman said, “that silly girl took a dare.”

  “A dare?” He glanced at Sam, who’d just tugged her fur-trimmed hood farther to the front of her head. “What sort of dare?”

  “Well,” she began, “she and Bryce were working on the reindeer sculpture they entered in the Christmas in Ice contest, you see, and they got to joking about that movie…you know the one, where the little boy gets his tongue stuck on a frozen flag pole?”

  “No, but go on.”

  “You’re joking. I thought everyone had seen that one. It’s one of the funniest, cutest—”

  “Carol,” Curt reminded gently, “the dare?”

  “Oh. Yes.” She snickered behind one leather-gloved hand. “Well, you see—and who knew Bryce could be such a card!—he told Sam it wasn’t just a movie trick, that tongues really could get stuck to flag poles. But Sam said it had to be a Hollywood stunt of some kind. So he dared her to stick her tongue on one of their ice-reindeer’s antlers, to see for herself.”

  Curt gawked at Sam again. “Don’t tell me she actually did it?”

  “Yes, she actually did it!” she said, hiding again behind her gloved hand.

  “Aw, just my bad luck…I was in the shop and missed all the fun!”

  “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll see it in living color. It was all captured on film, don’t you know. The newspapers were here covering the event, just like they do every year. Along with a film crew from that decorating show.” Her giggle was muffled by the mitten. “The director told me the show will air tomorrow.”

  “But tomorrow is Christmas Day!”

  “Exactly.”

  “Seems to me they should have won first prize for that alone.”

  Carol laughed as Pastor Davidson quirked a brow in his wife’s direction. “Goodness,” she whispered, “I’ve been caught jabbering during a church service again!”

  She and Curt faced the makeshift altar of polished ice that had been carved by the pastor himself in preparation for the ceremony.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” he said. “Bryce, you may kiss your bride.”

  Cheers rose from the small crowd as one voice called out, “Don’t kiss her too long in this weather, marine, or you’ll stick to her like she stuck to that reindeer!”

  Laughter echoed up and down the street as Gene Autry sang “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” right on cue.

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