Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride

by Autumn Macarthur

  Tiff let loose a long slow breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She had an idea why. The black skirt and neat long sleeved white shirt they’d found for Josie to wear suited her, but maybe she didn’t want to have to roll those sleeves up. They'd have to talk.

  Before she could ask Anita about local food hygiene regulations, Beth, the wedding gift coordinator, hurried over from her department.

  “Tiffany, can I ask you something?” Beth said. “I want to do a Valentine's Day photo shoot to promote the wedding registry. Different brides, surrounded by wedding gifts. All the lovely things to make their homes complete.” The way she said the words made it obvious it was a slogan. She grinned. “From Pettett and Mayfield's gift section, of course! I guess as Mac is filling in for the usual photographer, he’ll be taking the photos. Is that something your team could help out with?”

  “Sounds great.” Tiff nodded. “I’ll need to ask the guys, but I don’t see why not. No reason we can’t help you with setting up your things. As long as their own departments can spare them.”

  “Josie can help, of course. And I want to be part of this, too,” Anita said. “Talking of Josie, looks like she’s doing a great job already. Persuade her to do the demos, and I’ll keep her here forever. I need to go.” She bustled off to ring up the purchases for Josie’s customer, who’d arrived at the till with a loaded basket of baking equipment.

  “I hope you and your scheme participants will do more than help set up,” Beth said. “I’d like to have you all in the photos, too. Mrs P and Cara approved the promotion, but we're on a tight advertising budget so I can't afford to hire models. Anyway, I'd rather have real people.”

  Given the price of some of the items in Beth’s department, using homeless people as models seemed an odd choice. On the other hand, Tiff had no intention of letting anything that could help the scheme or her participants pass by. And just because they’d been homeless didn’t make any of the shelter residents unsuitable wedding guests. Or brides.

  “I guess using our team might get some extra publicity for you. But they might not want to appear in more photos. Mac will know all the legalities, like whether they need to sign additional model releases and things like that.”

  “The timing is the tricky bit.” Beth’s smile changed to an apologetic grimace. “We need to do it soon. I know it's still January but we're already a bit later than I’d like for the ads to go out in time. Mrs P wouldn’t let me take anyone else away from their work, so using your people will be perfect for what I need." She lifted her shoulders and raised her hands in apology. “Would this week be too much to ask?”

  Tiff looked around for Mac. No sign of him.

  He must still be downstairs. He'd taken Darren under his wing and stayed behind in the Warehouse to talk to him and his mentor. She might have forgiven Darren for Christmas Day, but she hadn’t entirely forgotten. The kid needed a lot of help to straighten himself out.

  "I'll need to ask Mac," she said. “I’m not sure what he had planned. Maybe when we come in tomorrow we can meet to talk about what you have in mind? What time works for you?”

  “Anita can cover my department for a few hours, but we’ll need to do some of it after the store closes, I’m afraid. How about meeting at lunch time, in the staff dining room?” Beth wrinkled her nose. “The coffee is bad, but at least it’s cheap.”

  Tiff smiled and nodded agreement. But she couldn’t stop the involuntary jump of her heart at the thought of seeing Mac tomorrow, and every day while they worked together. Her visa let her stay another two months. His next army medical was two weeks away. She knew he’d been training hard, and he barely showed any sign of a limp now. Odds were, he'd be leaving England before she did.

  All the more reason to enjoy the time they had. If she really did want to live Philippians 4:8, the verse she’d seen on the wall of that church in Edinburgh, it meant accepting every day as a gift from God. Seeing the best in whatever happened and in the people she met, giving thanks, and making the most of whatever God gave her.

  But she knew, if she was honest with herself, her feelings for Mac meant more than the mere ‘seeing the best in people’ that the verse demanded.

  Far more.

  Chapter 20

  No matter what Mac was doing, as they worked to set up Beth’s Valentines’ Day bridal feature, his attention kept going back to Tiffany.

  The expressions chasing each other across her mobile face as she spoke with Beth, Josie, and Maggie, the store window dresser. Or her swift graceful movements as she unpacked boxes, unwrapping items and putting them down. Everything about her captivated and delighted him, in a way he’d never thought any woman would.

  He’d been too busy protecting Brodie from bullies in his teens to date much. Then he’d been with Gina. After she died, he’d won that photography contest, gone to Afghanistan, and spent more time abroad than in Britain. Having a quick fling with someone wasn’t his style. For most of his life he’d kept girls on the other side of an invisible wall, until Tiffany broke through it.

  Once he left to go back to the Middle East, he’d need to build that wall back up again, brick by brick. Busy as the project kept him, mere work wasn’t enough to occupy him.

  Darren, with Stefan, his mentor in the warehouse, had moved a stack of office furniture and boxes out of a big empty storeroom Mac planned to use as a studio. Beth had them carry up a huge number of boxes from her department, while with Maggie’s help he draped the walls in white muslin as a backdrop.

  He’d grabbed the chance to take more painkillers while Darren was busy downstairs. Taking prescription medication in front of someone working hard to overcome a codeine addiction would be wrong.

  The lad begged permission to stay for the shoot. In the couple of photography classes Mac had done at the shelter, he’d shown a surprising aptitude, an instinctive grasp for framing shots and using light. Teaching him was surprisingly satisfying.

  But now, when Mac should be focused on setting up the lights and reflectors he’d borrowed, his eyes wandered back to Tiffany. He couldn’t hear what she said, but her sweet low toned voice called to him like a siren song.

  He forced himself to concentrate instead on explaining the basic set up for the shoot to Darren, repeating some of what his own teachers had told him.

  “The way you set up the light and shadows is what defines the mood. Just moving a single reflector to bounce the light differently can make the same shot dramatic and strong or soft and pretty, depending which direction the light comes from.”

  Mac picked up a silver reflector, and held it first under his chin, then angled to one side. “Can you see the difference?”

  Darren nodded, and looked to be taking it all in.

  “So, we need to find out more about what sort of feeling they want before we do any more. As it’s Valentine's Day and bridal, I’m guessing they’ll want pretty, but never assume. Always ask the client what they want.”

  Mac realised he was talking to Darren as if the lad could be a professional photographer some day. Well, why not? The kid was working hard to straighten himself out.

  They headed over to the group of laughing girls. Tiffany looked up as he approached, with a sweet smile that almost glowed.

  "I think we’ve gone as far as we can with our set up, without knowing just what you want to photograph and what look you want,” he said. “Warm and pink and soft, or harder edged and dramatic?"

  Tiffany certainly wasn’t hard edged, though he’d been wrong to think she was merely fluffy. She’d make a beautiful bride, for sure, for some other lucky guy.

  He tried to ignore the jealousy that knifed him in the gut at the thought.

  Tiff frowned. "Not too pink, surely.” She turned to Beth. “From what you were talking about and the things I’ve unpacked, I imagined something more boho, an artsy craftsy homemade wedding look."

  Beth grinned. "That homemade wedding look comes with a big price tag for the modern bride, too busy
to DIY. But what I want is three brides, in three different styles, so we have three picture stories for the ads. A blonde, a redhead, and a dark-haired bride. We have Anita for our redhead, and Josie will be perfect for our dark-haired bride.”

  “No way. I can’t do it,” Josie said backing off with her hands like stop signs in front of her chest. “I assumed you’d be one of the brides. Getting in practice.”

  Beth shook her head, touched the huge diamond on her finger, and smiled. “Not me. The only wedding dress I plan to wear is my own, at Easter. Anyway, I need to be setting stuff up and making sure the shoot goes right, not part of it." She looked at Josie, her eyes narrowed critically. “Besides, you have the exact look I want for the dramatic bride, dark and strong featured. You have amazing bone structure. Anita will be my quirky DIY bride, and of course Tiffany will be my sweet traditional bride.”

  Tiffany’s head jerked up and she took a step back. “I didn’t think I’d be part of the photos either. I’m just here to be a gopher. You must have another blonde you can use.”

  “I don’t,” Beth said, shaking her head. “Who else can I ask to stay back after work for no extra pay? Monique agreed we can use her personal shopper room, and she’s left out a range of wedding dresses from the display stock. Sally-Ann will do the hair and make-up, in return for before and after shots for her portfolio. But I can’t ask either of them to stay late, and neither of them have the look I want anyway.”

  Tiffany blushed, pinker than he’d ever seen her blush. “I really don’t feel comfortable being photographed.” She glanced over to him. “I’m pretty sure you’ve noticed, right?”

  Mac nodded. He'd noticed both Tiff and Josie step back when photos were being taken. Josie tended to tug her sleeves down all the time, so he’d been careful to make sure to focus on her face. And Tiffany tended to modestly say the project was about the store mentors and the shelter participants, not her. He’d had to use some paparazzi tricks to get shots of her when she didn't realise. But he hoped to persuade her to allow him to include her more.

  “I can act confident in meetings, but it’s hard for me.” She looked down and bit her lip. “I’m really shy. Actually, one of the fashion design houses I tried to get an internship with offered me the chance of an in-house modelling job if I sent them my portfolio, because I’m the right measurements for a petite stock size. But even though it might give me the opportunity to get my designs seen, I haven’t done it.” She lifted her head and smiled. “Besides, I don’t have a portfolio.”

  “This is the opportunity to change that,” he said, with a grin. “You have a photographer, and a studio.” He didn’t want to let her realise just how much he longed to photograph her, really photograph her. To show her just how beautiful she was.

  “It’s publicity. Not just for my department, but for your project and the shelter,” Beth cajoled. She turned to Josie. “I especially wanted to use you in the shots, not just because you’re so striking, but to break down stereotypes about homeless people. I used to be judgmental too, until God gave me a wake-up.”

  Tiffany smiled at Josie. “Do you get the feeling we’re being ganged up on here?”

  Josie’s smile looked forced. “You know why I can’t be part of this.” She almost whispered. “Wedding dresses are all sleeveless, aren’t they?”

  Darren shuffled his feet beside Mac, then spoke up. “I’d like to see you in a wedding dress, Jose.” His voice was hoarse, and he flushed. “You’ll look amazing.”

  Josie flashed him a grateful, tremulous smile.

  Already, he started deciding the angles he’d use to bring out the best in her face. The lass deserved to see her own beauty.

  Tiffany did too. So hard to imagine someone so lovely didn’t recognise the fact. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to see her in a wedding dress, when she’d never be his bride. His chest twanged painfully at the thought.

  Tiffany gazed at Josie. Something in her expression gave him the sense of her weighing things up, making a decision, for Josie’s sake.

  Then she breathed a loud deep breath, and smiled. “Neither of us want to do it, but how about we say, ‘I will if you will?’ Are you game to see what the personal shopper has for us? Winter brides wear jackets with long sleeves. Or a sleeveless dress with elbow length gloves.”

  Josie nodded. “I will if you will,” she repeated.

  Mac had to cross his arms across his chest to hide his elation.

  He needed to go back to the Middle East. Brodie might say he was running away, but it was more than that. His work there was too important not to. He owed it to the people there, and the troops, to show the truth. But this was a gift he could leave behind, another sort of truth-telling, a way to make a difference to these three girls.

  But most of all, to make a difference for Tiffany.

  “You guys come down to Monique’s salon too,” Beth said to him. “Bring your camera kit with you. You can take the ‘before’ photos for the make-up artist down there, and I want to try some other photos there too. It’s all pretty and girly and French. It will be perfect for Tiffany’s photos.”

  When he saw it, he had to agree.

  He did his best with lighting and the least flattering reflector angle to make Tiffany look less lovely in the ‘before’ shots, but it didn’t work. Even so, only the make-up artist would get copies of these shots. His job here was to help them all to feel better about themselves, not worse. To show them their true beauty.

  Sally-Ann, the pink haired Australian make-up artist, and Monique, a twig thin forty-something woman with a French accent he was sure had to be fake, hustled Tiffany off behind some screens.

  While they waited, he helped Beth arrange the wedding gifts the way she wanted, and set up the lighting.

  After about twenty minutes, Tiffany reappeared. He caught his breath. The modest high necked lace wedding dress, white and pure, hinted at much more than it revealed. It fitted her tiny figure through the top, then belled out in a long full skirt like a fairy tale princess. The style reminded him of the green dress she’d worn, on New Year’s Eve, and that kiss.

  She transcended mere prettiness. Shy, hesitant, doubtful, looking to him for approval, he glimpsed something far more in her expression than he wanted to see. It was as if there was no one else in the room but the two of them.

  He looked at his camera, glad to have the excuse of fiddling with the settings.

  “Let’s get to work. The camera will love you.”

  What about the photographer? a small voice whispered in his mind.

  Taking light readings and working out reflector angles and directing her how to pose between snapping off scores of images kept him busy, stopped him having to answer that question.

  But when she didn’t quite understand his directions for one slightly more complicated pose, he had to take her arm to guide her into position. Emotion flared in him. When he gently placed his hands either side of her face to tilt her head to catch the light exactly as he wanted it for the best shot, something unbidden and unwanted tingled through him.

  She had more than beauty. A clear pure light of trust and faith shone through her, as if she was translucent as glass.

  God’s grace and love filled her, in her tremulous smile, in her slow gentle movements, in the curve of her lips, in the line of her body. God created her, God’s loving Spirit filled her.

  The faith he thought he’d lost tweaked at his heart again, with pain that was real and physical.

  He’d seen so much of ugliness and suffering.

  And he saw the ugliness in himself, as well, way too clearly for comfort. His resentment of Brodie, because his twin’s illness had taken up all their parents’ attention. His failure to save Gina, or that Arab boy. Nothing he did was good enough.

  Tiffany showed the other side of the coin. Humanity as God meant it to be, transformed by His loving touch. As his hands lingered a little too long either side of her cheeks, he saw himself reflected there in her eyes.

/>   What she saw in him, he couldn’t tell, but he knew what he saw.

  His own smallness. His meanness, his ugliness, his failure. He’d fallen away from God, lost all that once meant so much to him, cursed God as he lay there in the desert, leg shattered, a child dead in his arms. Nothing, no amount of sweetness and faith, could ever cleanse him of that.

  Tiffany might look up at him with sweet hope in her eyes, a soft smile lifting those lovely lips, parted just a little as if waiting for a kiss. But he knew better. He knew he didn’t deserve anything from her. All he could do was give the one gift he had to give, photos to show her how beautiful she was.

  As soon as he was fit, he’d get back to where he belonged. War. Violence. Ugliness.

  And a chance to make up for his failure to be the man he should have been.

  Chapter 21

  Tiff gazed across the table at Mac, while he sorted the photos he’d brought with him. The last two weeks had rushed by her, far faster than she wanted. If she’d been able to slow down time, she would, to have longer with him.

  They’d seen each other every day, working in the store. And then most evenings, they’d done something together, even if it was as simple as him walking her home from the store or the shelter. Just holding hands as they walked was enough to make it special.

  He’d dared to eat the cakes she’d made, when Josie gave her the promised baking lessons, and said they were delicious. She wasn’t so sure, but he’d gone back for seconds, so maybe her cakes were okay, after all. He hadn’t broken a tooth, at least.

  They’d gone on dates, too. A concert in a church. Burns Night, where she’d heard unintelligible Scottish poetry and eaten haggis for the first time. He’d laughed when she’d called the concoction of minced meat and oatmeal gross.

  They’d gone out to dinner a few times, simple places like for pizza or a curry, sometimes double dating with Nick and Cara. They’d eaten fish and chips out of a newspaper wrapper while they sat beside the river watching the boats go up and down.