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FRANK
Turned out, the guy I was racing for Mercy’s heart was her old assistant surprising her with clothes and several bags of her personal belongings to help make the transition back to Lacey a little easier until she could organize a proper move. Not that was I sorry I made a run for it.
I’ll never be sorry. I’m even coming to terms with my choices that led to all the years we spent apart. The things we learned along the way made us better, stronger, and more determined than ever to make a life together that fulfills us on every level. And, most importantly, one that keeps us in the same place.
One year later, and that one place turns out to be The Rose Petal. While it’s our home together, running the place is all Red. I’ve never seen her more in her element than when she’s got the place full and she’s about to host another wedding, just like the one we’re having here today.
“Where do you want these?” I ask, a bale of straw in each hand. I’ve got eight more in the back of my truck just like ‘em, all snagged from my father’s barn. He’s still running the ranch, but I’ve found a way to make my own path without leaving home. I’m training horses. After word got out how much we were able to do here on horseback after the hurricane, other communities reached out to us, wanting to train teams for search and rescue work. It’s not all I do, but it’s the most rewarding. Sometimes, I still pick up a horse like Buck, one everyone’s given up on, just for the fun of proving them all wrong.
“Can you put the straw over there by the magnolia trees, please?” she asks, holding a load of her own, a large wicker basket filled with all the decorative trimmings for the welcome table, already set up in the same place she’s directing me.
“Am I doing a thing with them, or is it a drop-and-run job that you’ll want to finish yourself once all the pieces are there?” I ask, following close behind her as we head for the same destination. It’s my favorite thing about life these days.
“Drop and run.” I can hear the smile in her voice as she says it. “I’m still mentally sorting out the pattern I want them in.”
Figured. “Cam coming to help?” We drop our loads almost simultaneously.
“I told her not to worry, but she is the maid of honor, so...”
We both look at each other and smirk. “Yeah. She’ll be here.”
“Control freak that she is, how could she miss an opportunity to come and boss me around a bit.” She laughs. “I don’t know how Lucy puts up with her.”
“Tell you the truth, I think Lucy does the bossing in that set up.” I go to help her unpack all the supplies she brought over in her massive basket. “God help us all when they decide to get married.”
She pauses, a temporary look of fear flashing in her eyes. “You don’t think they’ll want their wedding here?”
“Might as well just have a set of keys made for her, Red. You know Camden will be moving in from the moment one proposes to the second they say I do, just so she can micromanage every last detail.”
Mercy rolls her eyes and smiles again. “You know, after Camden and Lucy, we’ll have had every wedding here for all the people that mean the most to us. First Esther and Wade. Now MaryBeth and Tyler.”
Still can’t wrap my head around how that played out, but it did.
“Then, if Camden and Lucy get married here too, that’ll be everyone,” she finishes her train of thought while separating a stack of tea light candles into pink and silver piles.
“Everyone?”
“Who else would be left?” she asks, eyes coming up to meet mine.
“I don’t recall you and I making it down any aisle yet,” I point out the obvious couple missing from her line up. “You have plans to marry someone I don’t know about?”
“You have plans to ask someone I don’t know about?” she counters.
“Kind of hard to ask anyone anything around here when people are dropping to their knees left and right.”
“I can see where that might hinder your plans a bit,” she muses, now moving on to placing her previously sorted candles into empty mason jars.
“It did seem to,” I admit, “but I’ve made new ones.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I step in closer until our bodies align. I cup her face with both my palms and gently tilt it up toward me to kiss her. “Meet me halfway on our path tonight, by the trees. Bring a blanket. I’ll bring the fruit punch.”
She doesn’t answer right away, and I take my time, taking in every detail of her beautiful face while I wait. I learned years ago that she says most of what she says right before she opens her mouth.
A gentle curve sweeps over her lips. Her brow arches slightly. And her green eyes light up with a flash of mischief.
I already know all I need to.
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MERCY
Frank Kingston taught me two things. One, that nothing tastes sweeter than an icy cool fruit punch kiss on a hot summer night, and two, that whenever I’m certain of anything, it’s about us. How much we love each other, how the very things that took us apart were always going to bring us back together, and how much that resting pompous-ass-with-half-smirk face of his is going to drive me crazy for the rest of my life. In the best way possible.
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THE END