Traci Winston faced the man standing in front of her. He had three inches on her five-foot, seven-inch height, and probably outweighed her by fifty pounds or more. She fisted her hands and slightly rose onto the balls of her feet. A bead of sweat ran down her back, tickling as it made a path along the tensed muscles, but she ignored it. Instead, she watched his eyes, gauging when he would make his move. As expected, she caught the flare of his eyes just as his leg came forward to sweep her feet out from under her. Anticipating that move, she sprang up and executed a perfect jump kick into his chest, sending him flailing backward. With his balance compromised, she landed and turned her body to side kick into his ribs, sending him all the way down.

The command from Master Travis Seaver ended the spar, and she relaxed, reaching down to help her opponent up. He hesitated before taking her hand but finally relented and allowed her to assist him. Once he had gained his feet, she slapped his hand between the two of hers as a silent acknowledgment. With Master Seaver’s next command, they bowed to each other and shook hands once more, then jogged to their places in the formation.

With a third-degree black belt and as the highest-ranking member of the group, Traci led the class in the ritual dismissal, then made her way to the dressing room. In no time, she had changed out of her dobak and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt commemorating a Thanksgiving 5K she’d run last November. She pulled on a pair of socks and slipped her feet into her well-worn leather boots, tossed her dobak into her bag with her deputy sheriff’s uniform, and pulled the band out of her hair, letting the straight blonde tresses loose from their braid for the first time since her 6 a.m. shower.

On her way out of the locker room, she hit the switch for the light, leaving a dark room behind her. Because she already had boots on, she walked along the outer edge of the mat and went to Travis’ office. Pictures of him in various jump kicks graced the walls, and a large frame of his advancement in belts from white to his current fifth-degree black belt hung above a large bookshelf. He sat at his computer, frowning as he typed with two fingers. He always frowned at his computer screen. The warm glow of the desk lamp made the reddish highlights in his dark hair glow as if it had a halo. When she came into the office, he shut the lid of the laptop and pulled it from the port.

“There she is,” he greeted with a smile. He’d already changed into jeans and a blue T-shirt with his company logo on the back. He stood and came around the desk.

“Hey, you.” His arm slipped around her waist, and his warm lips covered hers. After dating for over two years, she kept expecting to get used to the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him, but every single time, it swept her away. She put her fingers on the sides of his face and felt his soft beard against the palms of her hands. He pulled her even closer and gripped the back of her hair. The intensity of emotions he pulled out of her made her legs quiver and drew a moan from deep inside her. She started to step closer, to wrap her arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, but he moved his hands to her hips and stepped back, putting some distance between them as he slowly gentled the kiss.

When he lifted his head, he stared down at her. She thought she could drown in the intensity of his green eyes. He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek then pressed his lips against her forehead.

She stepped back, immediately missing the feel of his body heat. She felt the silly grin on her face. A little breathless, she asked, “How has your day been?”

“Taught hand-to-hand at the police academy today. That’s always a good time.” He rubbed a hand over his beard. His eyes lit up with amusement, and he winked at her.

Feeling a warm rush of emotion as she remembered three years ago back to the first time she met him at the police academy, she grinned. “I didn’t know what I didn’t know until you got a hold of me.”

“Ha!” He grabbed his keys out of his desk drawer. “Ready?”

“Yes. I’m starving.” They didn’t have a lot of time during most weeks to spend together, but the days she could attend his last class, they always had dinner afterward. It made for a late night since the class ended at eight, but having the chance to share a meal with him made it worth it.

Most places in Charula, Kentucky closed by eight. That limited their meal choice options. They could drive to another town, which they’d done a few times. They could also drive outside town to the intersection with the interstate and hit a fast food place, which did not appeal to either of them. Usually, they went to Betsy’s, the diner near the courthouse. Betsy stayed open until ten on weeknights and eleven Fridays and Saturdays to accommodate the mill’s second shift that ended at nine. Added bonuses were that they could walk to it, the dinner crowd had already dispersed by eight-thirty, the mill crowd hadn’t arrived yet, and they both enjoyed the simple, homemade fare.

The early-spring evening felt nice, and the peak of the sunset lit Main Street with reds and golds reflecting off the storefront windows. Last week it had snowed. This week, the temperatures rocketed to the mid-70s, a typical early April week in central Kentucky. Traci slipped her hand into Travis’ and leaned into his arm as they walked. She carried her bag because she’d go straight home from the diner. They strolled down Main Street toward the river, passing the Main Street Church and Two Sisters’ flower shop, then crossed the road to the diner. Travis reached around her and opened the door, the bells jingling to announce their arrival.

“Hi, kids,” Betsy Bates said from behind the counter. She had cheaply dyed brown hair, hard ice-blue eyes accented by too much mascara, and the weathered and wrinkled face of a woman who had spent most of her youth working on a farm. As one of her favorite people, those eyes lit up whenever she saw Travis. “How’s things?”

“Been a day,” Traci answered with a smile. She and Travis slid into their usual booth. “But it’s Tuesday. You got any meatloaf left?”

“Only because I figured you two would be in tonight. I had to squirrel a slice away for ya.” She looked at Travis. “Whatcha want, darlin’?”

“Hmmm. Let’s do grilled chicken salad. Oil and vinegar dressing.”

Traci propped her chin in her hands and smiled at him. “I refuse to give up meatloaf. I’d rather work out an extra hour tomorrow morning to make up for it.”

He smiled and reached for her hand. “I have a tournament coming up. We can celebrate my win by eating meatloaf.”

“Deal.” She stared into his eyes, her heart rate increasing just from touching his hand. How did he do that?

When Betsy set their drinks next to them, it startled her. She hadn’t even heard her approach. “When are you two lovebirds going to make it official?”

She stood there, hands on her skinny hips, staring down at them as if her question merited a serious response.

Travis just grinned up at her. “God’s timing is perfect, eh, Miss Betsy?”

“Well, sure. But if He’s talkin’ and you ain’t listening, who’s that on?”

She walked away without waiting for his answer. Traci laughed at her back, but when she looked at Travis again her mouth went dry and the ability to make sound fled. The intensity of his look took her breath away. “What?” she croaked out.

“Let’s do it.”

Oh, she didn’t like the sound of this. She pulled her hand from his and gripped it in her lap. “Do what?”

“Get married.”

No. No. No. The word tripped around inside her head. No way. Her mother would become like a ravenous dog with a bone. She couldn’t possibly put herself in that position.

Even though the words screamed in her head, none of them would come out of her mouth, giving Travis leave to root around in the front pocket of his jeans and pull out a velvet ring box.

Oh no! He’d even bought a ring? He had it in his pocket?

Without warning, without waiting for some silent clue from her that this was in any way okay, he slid out of the booth and got down on one knee in front of her. She stared at him as if her eyes could will him back up and back into his seat. When he opened the box, her jaw fell open.

Instead of staring at some ridiculously large marquee cut stone glinting in the fluorescent lights of the diner, she stared at a black silicone ring with a crystal embedded in it, flush with the silicone. Her shocked eyes darted back and forth between the ring and his solemn expression. Emotions flooded her chest, tears sprang to her eyes, and she covered her mouth with one hand to hold back the sob.

“Traci,” he started, then cleared his throat and continued, “Traci, I love you. I have loved you from the moment you flattened me with a reverse round kick. Putting your black belt on you is one of my happiest memories. I would love to marry you, to love you for the rest of my life, to go to bed next to you at night and wake up next to you in the morning. Will you marry me and be my partner in life, with God as the head of our home?”

He understood her! He wanted to marry her even though she would never amount to what society considered “wife material.” Instead of some impractical girly bauble, he had bought her a ring she could wear to work, to workout, to spar. It even matched her uniform.

“Yes.” The word escaped on a laughing sob. Where had that come from? She didn’t know which one of them felt more surprise at her affirmative answer. He slipped the silicone band onto her finger and stood, keeping a light grip on her fingers. He slipped his hand around to the back of her neck and leaned over, pulling her lips to his. Though brief, the kiss completely took her breath away. An intensity that didn’t exist before flowed from her chest, causing a wave of heat to move outward and down to even the tips of her fingers. Trapped in the booth, her hand still in his, she couldn’t do much more than try to lean closer.

“Well. ‘Bout time. Sup’s on.”

At Betsy’s words, Travis lifted his head and looked down at her, then winked. Traci stared up at him, mind blank, heart pounding. As he let go of her hand, she felt the real world flood back, and she gripped her hands in her lap.

Betsy stood behind him, holding a plate piled high with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and gravy. In her other hand, she carried a garden salad topped with grilled chicken. She had tucked the bottle of oil and vinegar under her arm.

Travis blushed and slid back into the booth across from Traci. She reached for the fork sitting on top of the white napkin but could not take her eyes off Travis’ face.

Had she seriously just agreed to get married? Her mother’s office came to mind, with the fake zebra rug and the pink leather furniture. She couldn’t do that to herself. She just couldn’t.

After Betsy walked away, Travis held out his hand for her to take it so they could pray over the meal together. As she set her fingers into his palm, she said, “Let’s not do a wedding. How about we do something fun instead?”

He stared at her for several seconds as if already disapproving of the notion. “Like what?”

After running her tongue over her teeth, she grinned and said, “I know! How about we say our vows while skydiving over the Grand Canyon? We were going to go there this summer anyway.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What about the bridal party? That could get expensive.”

She shook her head. “Just you, me, and a minister.”

His eyebrows knitted. “You’d seriously rather exchange vows alone while free falling a few thousand feet than walk just a few yards down the aisle of our local church with our friends and family there?”

“Yeah! I think it would be amazing!”

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her, finally saying, “Whatever you want. You’re the bride. It’s going to be your day. But you’re going to tell her. Not me.”

Pursing her lips, she asked, “Will you go with me?”

His eyebrow slowly raised. “It’s going to have to be tonight because you and I both know she’ll hear about it before tomorrow.” Gesturing with his head toward Betsy, he squeezed her fingers. “But I will go with you.”

Traci’s family had lived in Charula since the settlement of the town in the early 1800s. She had a list of great-grandfathers who held various official positions within the town, including her own grandfather who had served as mayor for two election cycles. Her mother, Michelle, however, had never really lived up to the Winston family expectations. Not only had she gotten pregnant at fifteen, but she’d also never gotten married and had never had any other children. Traci’s grandfather died complaining that the family name would fade away in a sea of pink tulle and fairy dust.

He did, however, build an apartment above the garage where Michelle and Traci lived. He adored Traci and doted on both of them until he died, leaving Michelle his riverfront home that sat at the end of Main Street. Traci still lived in the garage apartment. She couldn’t see the sense in moving out and paying rent somewhere else when she could walk to work, Travis’ academy, and almost anywhere else she needed. It did put her within arm’s reach of her mother, which could be maddening most of the time, but between work and a busy life, that had less of an impact than it could have.

Tonight, she and Travis walked past the wooden sign at the end of the walkway that read, “Enchanted Events” and on up to the main house. A wooden purple butterfly perched on top of the signpost. Her mother planned and prepared all kinds of events, but took particular delight in weddings.

The downstairs windows glowed with light, so Traci looked through the window to make sure her mother didn’t have a client. At the visual all-clear, she used her key to unlock the front door and stepped into her mother’s world.

To her right sat the sitting room of the house. Her mother had converted it into an office. A fake zebra rug lay spread out on the polished hardwood floor. Pink leather wing-backed chairs faced a glass desk. Pink wallpaper, gold accents, and white bookshelves proclaimed the word feminine with a frilly, satiny, undeniably soprano voice.

To her left sat a waiting room with purple leather couches, a white shag rug, and silver accents. Here, happy couples could browse through color samples, menu ideas, and table settings. Traci knew that through the door of the waiting room, she’d find the dining room set with twelve different settings showing different possibilities. Despite her distaste of the entire ordeal, she thought her mother’s marketing in the dining room was rather clever. Potential brides could touch and see and imagine everything right there instead of just pictures in a catalog.

“Mama?” Traci yelled, coming into the waiting room.

The dining room door burst open, and Michelle Winston bounded through it. She had perfectly thick and naturally wavy blonde hair that got weekly highlighted touch-ups at her favorite salon, high cheekbones, large blue eyes framed by permanent fake eyelashes and perfectly applied eyeliner, and the kind of figure that swimsuit models hoped they’d have at the age of thirty-five, much less Michelle’s forty. Today she wore a fuchsia shirt that clung tightly to her body, white pants belted at her skinny waist, three-inch heels that matched the shirt to perfection, and a gold necklace with a large pink and purple butterfly.

“Traci, darling,” she greeted, coming toward her with arms outstretched. Traci gave her a small hug then immediately stepped away as Michelle exclaimed over Travis’ unplanned visit. “What a nice surprise and, oh, you brought that dashing young man with you, too.”

Travis made a slight bow and greeted, “Good evening, Michelle.”

Her mother nodded in agreement. “Well, it is now. I can put on the kettle. We can have tea.”

“That’s okay,” Traci said, “We just finished eating.”

Michelle frowned. “So late. That’s not good for you.”

The two-sentence lecture made Traci’s neck bristle, but she would not react. “We have some news,” she said with a tight smile.

“Oh?”

She held up her left hand and displayed the black silicone ring on her finger. “We’re getting married!”

Michelle put both hands up to her face and said, “Oh! Oh! I’m, just so, oh!”

Travis’ arm came around Traci’s waist, and he pulled her close. “I am, too. I was afraid she’d say no.”

“Oh, she couldn’t possibly have said no to you.” She put her arms around both of them and squeezed, then stepped back. “Oh, everything is going to be just perfect! There’s so much to do!”

“Mama!” Michelle had rushed from the room to her office. Traci followed her. “Mama, listen. We’re not going to have a wedding.”

From the white bookshelf behind her desk, her mother pulled out a giant photo album covered in white satin with a large purple butterfly embedded in the front. “Don’t be silly. Of course, we’re going to have a wedding.”

She started to open the book, but Traci reached across the desk and put her hand on top of it. She met her mom’s eyes and spoke firmly. “We’re going to go to the Grand Canyon and get married while skydiving.”

Michelle’s eyes widened so far her eyelashes flatted against her eyelids. Then her face relaxed. “Pishposh. Do that for a honeymoon. That will be fun, assuming you both survive. We want to do a wedding here, though.”

“We, who?”

She gestured toward her door. “The Seaver girls. Jessica, Justine, and I have been talking about it for about a year now.”

Travis’ sisters owned the Two Sisters Flower Shop down the street. She knew her mother regularly did business with them. She did not know, however, that her mother regularly discussed her business with them. “Listen to me, Mother,” she said through her teeth, “I am not having a wedding. And that is final.” Turning, she saw Travis in the doorway. “Ready to go?”

He looked from her mom to her and frowned. “Really?”

“I suspect you’re welcome to stay. I’m going home.” She started out of the room and turned to look at her mom. “I know it’s disappointing to you. But, I have never, ever, wanted to put on a dress and walk down an aisle. To tell the truth, I never even much wanted to get married, but I know in my heart that Travis is the one for me. You’re just going to have to take all those ideas you’ve come up with for me and sell them to one of your clients. I’m sure they would make some other girl very happy.”

Brushing past Travis, she stormed through the entryway and out the door. She stopped at the end of the walk and waited for Travis to catch up with her. He did not rush toward her but strolled very purposefully. “That was probably the worst I’ve ever seen you treat her,” he said without preamble.

Traci clenched her teeth until her jaw ached. “I had to be forceful to stop the tide before it grew into a tidal wave. You have no idea what was about to come.”

“Really? Neither did she.” She could hear the annoyance in his voice. He didn’t touch her as he walked by. “I’ll see you later.”

Surprised that he’d leave without a kiss, without a hug, without anything, she watched his back until she couldn’t see him anymore, then stormed across the lawn to the garage. The sound of her boots stomping against the wooden stairs rang out in the night. When she went into her apartment, she slammed the door so hard the door window rattled in its frame.

Her little apartment provided a refuge against work and against family. It was the only place in the world where she felt she could completely be Traci, without meeting or failing to meet someone else’s expectations.

After her mom moved into the main house, she’d repainted, refurnished, and stripped all the feminine touches her mother had left and redecorated the entire place. She kept it intentionally simple with a brown leather couch and matching love seat facing the stone fireplace. Above the mantle, her flat-screen television usually just darkly reflected the room back at her. She thought maybe she’d last turned it on during March Madness when the University of Kentucky’s basketball team played Tennessee. When they lost, she’d turned the television off in disgust and hadn’t turned it back on since. Her mom’s cousin had painted the two paintings that hung on the wall - one of a Kentucky Derby race and the other a horse standing in the snow. She had a trophy shelf filled with sports trophies from high school and the medals she’d acquired running races as an adult. That about summed up her decorations.

Her little four-person table sat behind the couch. She looked through the bar and into the kitchen. She cooked in there about as often as she watched television. She did utilize her blender to make her morning smoothies and the toaster on an occasional bagel.

A little hall led to the two bedrooms connected by a single bathroom. Tonight, she went straight to her bedroom. The handmade quilt on her bed came from her grandmother and brightened up the otherwise boring and plain room. She set her bag on the bed and immediately unpacked it, putting her service weapon away in her nightstand and confirming that she had a clean uniform for tomorrow. As she got ready for bed, her thoughts went to the confrontation with Travis, and she wondered about his attitude.

Upon reflection, what she considered his usual annoyance at the time felt stronger. He’d actually seemed angry. Why would he be mad because she’d had to use a firm voice with her mom? She stared at the ring, then took it off and placed it on her dresser.

She’d have to ask him tomorrow. Tonight, she was too tired to think about it. She set her alarm, plugged her phone in, and brushed her teeth. Twenty minutes after walking in the door, she landed in her bed, her eyes already closing.