Chapter Fifteen
MORGAN
A bell jingles merrily as we enter the little shop, and I’m hyperaware of Will’s palm pressed against mine.
An older man pops up from behind the counter, his eyes lighting up.
“You must be the happy couple!” At our surprised faces, he continues.
“My wife called someone named”—he lifts a paper from the counter and slides his glasses onto his nose—“Fran a few minutes ago to make sure you remember we close at two. She said you were on your way. So glad you made it!”
“Me too,” I say. “Sorry to show up last minute. If the ring is ready, we’ll get going so you can close up.”
“Oh, nonsense.” A plump woman bustles into the room, gripping a camera. “We have plenty of time for all our happy couples.”
She places her hand on her chest. “Oh my, you two are young, aren’t you?” But before we can respond, she perches herself on a stool next to a display case where she props her elbow. “So, how did you get engaged?”
Prepared for this one, Will tells the story brilliantly. The woman sits in rapt attention, crooning in all the right places. Her husband hovers nearby, listening.
The woman rests her chin in her hand. “And how did you meet? Have you known each other long?”
Okay. We weren’t prepared for that one.
“Um,” I say, ever the eloquent one. And my palm starts to sweat in this interrogation room. One wrong move, they’ll toss us out of Oklahoma. I’m so not good at this.
“Well,” he drawls, “it was a bad beginning. We were both in a hurry—to go to the same place, as it turns out—and bumped into each other. We spilled our drinks all over our clothes and shoes.”
“Oh my! What a meet-cute.”
“It wasn’t very cute, to be honest, and when we arrived at the place we were going and saw the other there, neither of us was very happy. But fast forward a bit, and here we are.”
The woman puts her hand over her chest again. “Oh, a romance born of tragedy.” She bats her eyes at her husband. “It reminds me of our story.”
He comes to stand behind her, gnarled hands gripping her shoulders. “We had a similar mishap the first time we met. But it was a small price to pay for the last forty-five years.”
He squeezes her shoulders, and leaning her head back into him, she giggles in a girlish manner. Then she frowns at our linked hands.
“Where’s your ring, dear?” she asks me.
I hadn’t thought of that either. “Well…” I swallow. “We went paddleboarding, and I didn’t want to risk losing it. I didn’t have time to grab it before we rushed here.”
Will meets my eyes and nods in approval.
“Oh, too bad. I love engagement rings. Do think of us if you ever have any other jewelry needs.”
“Sure.” Will’s lips twitch with a suppressed smile.
“Speaking of jewelry.” The man holds up a small box. “I have your freshly cleaned and polished groom’s ring right here.”
Will reaches for it, but the man pulls it back. “We have a special tradition here. Before we hand over the goods, we need a photo of the bride and groom for our wedding collage.” He gestures to a collage of photos covering the back wall.
I should’ve known.
No problem. We can do this. I grip Will’s hand as the woman directs us into the light.
“That’s right, stand right there.”
Will smooths out his bright-yellow Fish Eufaula T-shirt and floppy curls. “I’m not dressed for this.”
The man chuckles. “You’re looking sharp, son. I have that same shirt.”
Will catches my eye, and I try not to laugh.
The woman adjusts my hair and then steps back. “Now, give us a nice big smile.”
We lean toward each other, and she snaps a few Polaroids. That wasn’t so bad. We start to move away when she says, “All right, let’s see some love now. Give us a kiss for the camera.”
Will and I exchange wide-eyed glances, our hands still linked together. My heart begins to race as I try to stifle my panic. This was not part of the plan. And if I’m not mistaken, Will is every bit as shocked as I am.
“Um.” He hesitates, his deep brown eyes searching mine. “We’re pretty private. I don’t think—”
“Bah.” The man waves at this. “Don’t be silly.”
“Besides,” the woman sings merrily, utterly unaware of our discomfort, “no kiss, no ring, and it’s closing time.”
She positions her camera, and Will squeezes my hand ever so slightly. Is this his way of asking permission?
“Come on now. Don’t be bashful.” The woman winks. “It’s tradition!”
I turn toward Will at the moment he shifts toward me.
Our faces are inches apart. My breath hitches as his wide brown eyes seem to draw me in.
He releases my hand and slides his fingers up my arm to my elbow.
Of its own accord, my hand moves to brush his side.
He lifts a brow, a question on his face.
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
He leans toward me, and my eyes drift closed.
Our lips meet hesitantly at first, the initial contact sending unexpected sparks through my body.
As his lips move against mine, all thoughts of our current predicament fade.
I rise onto my toes, my fingers gripping his hideous shirt.
His free hand moves to my neck, his thumb brushing my jaw.
And what was supposed to be a brief moment turns into something else.
When our lips finally separate and my eyelids flutter open, neither of us moves away.
Wow.
“All right. That’s enough, lovebirds!” The man’s laughter breaks through our reverie, causing us to jump apart. “I thought you were private.” He chortles again, and my cheeks burn as I attempt to steady my breathing.
“Sorry,” I mutter. Could today be more embarrassing?
The woman continues to snap photos. “Oh, we know what it’s like to be young and in love.”
Will chuckles, and I track the feeling as his hand slides back down my forearm to intertwine our fingers again.
“Here you go.” The man hands over the ring and a few photos. “We wish you all the best.”
Will takes them, and the woman ushers us toward the door. “Yes, have a lovely wedding day. And do drive carefully.”
“Thank you. We will.” Will’s voice is steadier than I expect, seeing as I still don’t trust myself to put coherent words together.
He pockets the ring and opens the door with a ding, pulling me out onto the sidewalk. After one more wave, the woman locks up.
We stand, linked by our fingers, staring at Hudson’s familiar truck.
“Well—” Will starts, but he can’t seem to find the right words.
“Yeah.” Apparently, neither can I.
He releases my hand, and we separate, walking to each side of the cab. Our gazes meet briefly over the hood. As we slide into our seats, I press my fingers to my still-tingling lips.
That was…unexpected.