Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Mac spotted Connor across the lawn, and before she could stop herself, a faint smile tugged at her mouth.
Groom’s brother. Best man. Back in town for the wedding.
And somehow—impossibly—looking even better than he had in high school.
She adjusted the strap of her dress, a small, grounding gesture, then started toward him. Steady. Unhurried. She wasn’t sure he’d remember her. Back then, they’d barely spoken—passing nods, shared hallways, nothing more. She’d been focused on basketball. On getting out.
But she’d noticed him.
Up close, he looked unfairly good in black tie, though the tie itself was already gone, and his hair bore unmistakable evidence that he’d run his fingers through it more than once. Still, he wore the looseness well. Too well.
It made her quietly grateful she’d chosen the one fancy dress she owned. Soft blue. Simple lines. A soft vee at the neckline, flattering without trying. The skirt flared just enough to balance the strength in her legs. Her hair was tucked behind one ear. No earrings. No frills.
For once, she didn’t just feel comfortable.
She felt beautiful.
“Hey.” She stopped in front of him, voice low, edged with a hint of amusement. “Connor Brody. It’s been a long time.”
She met his gaze fully now, the same steady look that had once unnerved much bigger defenders. Then she extended her hand. “MacKenzie Lockhart. You can call me Mac. Everyone does.”
Connor straightened from where he’d been leaning against the beam and closed his hand over hers, his grip firm and warm. “I remember you, Mac. You’re pretty much unforgettable.”
She laughed, the sound quick and genuine. “I’m hoping that’s a compliment.”
“Definitely.” His eyes flicked over her—respectful, appreciative. “And since we’re trading compliments… You look lovely tonight.”
A ripple of pleasure moved through her. She glanced down at the dress, then back up, one corner of her mouth lifting. “This old thing?” She shook her head lightly. “Thank you.”
“So,” he said, shifting his stance, “what brings you to Good Hope?”
“I live here now.”
He blinked. “No kidding.”
“Since December.” She shrugged. “I came back, planning to reconnect with old friends, maybe do some cross-country skiing.” Her gaze drifted briefly as she thought of the snow-covered cabin she’d rented, the quiet that had settled around her like a promise.
“Two weeks turned into a month. Then I just…stayed.”
“Wow.” He let out a breath. “I heard a rumor you retired after the championship. Didn’t know if it was true.”
She recognized the path of the conversation immediately—the same questions, the same curiosity. Tonight didn’t feel like the time for the long version.
“All true,” she said easily. “It felt like the right place to stop.
Winning the championship had felt like finishing a sentence she’d been writing her whole life. Once it was done, she realized she didn’t know what came next.
She glanced toward the barn, candlelight flickering across the tables, music threading through the air.
“I haven’t been to a reception here before.
I was gone a long time, and I don’t get invited to many things like this.
So when I do, especially when I know the people, I try to say yes. Even when it’s…a stretch.”
He took a sip of wine, listening.
“Most of the people here are strangers to me,” she continued lightly. “But they’re friendly. And the only way to make friends is to show up.”
“I get it.”
She smiled, head tipping. “I don’t think you do. You’ve always been in the middle of things, and tonight you’re surrounded by family.”
“I am,” he said, quieter now. “But I’ve been gone a long time, too. I’m behind on the jokes. Out of rhythm.” He glanced across the lawn. “Most of the people I used to run with—they’ve paired off. Settled in.”
Mac studied him for a moment, then looked up at the lights strung overhead, listening to the music drifting like a breeze and the children playing tag near the dessert table. “Then maybe we should stick together.”
“You don’t have to—”
She reached out and rested her hand on his arm. “I want to.”
A beat passed between them. Not awkward. Just…full.
“You ever get that feeling,” she said slowly, “like you’ve stepped into a moment that’s somehow bigger than you expected?”
He met her gaze. “Yeah.”
She glanced down at the heels she’d nearly left behind.
“That’s what this feels like. A little too much for a wedding reception.” She paused. “Or maybe exactly right.”
He stepped a fraction closer. “I vote just enough.”
Whatever might’ve followed was cut short by a blur of red hair and motion.
“Uncle Connor!” Parker skidded to a stop in front of them, triumph blazing in his eyes. “Look what I catched!” He held up a wriggling garter snake. “I’m going to show Mommy and Daddy!”
“I don’t think—” Connor began, alarm flashing across his face.
“Picture first,” Mac said smoothly, already pulling her phone from her purse. “Hold him high and smile big.”
Parker beamed, and Connor smiled. Mac snapped a few shots, quick and efficient.
“Perfect,” she said. Then she crouched to Parker’s level. “Now you can put him back so he can get on with his very important work.”
Parker squinted. “Like what?”
“Snake stuff,” she said solemnly. “Busy guy.”
Satisfied, Parker released the snake and tore off.
Connor laughed, shoulders loosening. “My brother and I had a rubber snake we used to scare people with.”
“Missed opportunity,” Mac teased.
“You saved the party.”
“You’ll have to give me Callum’s number so I can send the pictures.”
“We should exchange numbers, too.” He held out his phone.
She tapped hers against it. “Done.”
They laughed, the space between them smaller now, closer without either of them stepping forward.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said.
“So am I.”
Glasses clinked near the barn. The music faded.
“Toasts,” Mac said, easing her hand from his arm.
He watched her move away, then found her again easily among the guests.
The moment didn’t end. It paused.
When the final toast finished and the band slipped into a slow, familiar melody, couples drifted toward the dance floor.
Mac turned—and her eyes found him.
Connor didn’t hesitate.
“Dance with me?”
Her answering smile was quiet. Certain. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Their hands fit together naturally. The music wrapped around them like a ribbon, slow and steady. He guided her onto the dance floor, his hand finding the small of her back with a familiarity that surprised her.
She slid her other hand into his, her fingers cool and sure.
“You always this smooth?” she asked lightly, her voice going a little soft.
“Only with someone who knows how to move,” he murmured, guiding her easily into step.
They moved together in quiet rhythm, her head tilted up, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder until it slowly settled on her.
“You’re full of surprises,” she said after a moment.
He arched a brow. “How so?”
“I seem to recall hearing that Connor Brody didn’t do slow dances.”
“Back in high school, I also thought microwave nachos were a food group and believed you couldn’t possibly sprain an ankle if you were wearing enough tape.”
She laughed, warm and low. “You were a menace on the court.”
“I had nothing on you,” he said. “You were fierce.”
Something softened behind her smile. “Yeah, well, fierce doesn’t always work so well off the court.”
They fell into a brief silence. Couples danced beneath the canopy of string lights and starlight, but for Mac, the world narrowed to the man in her arms.
The final chords of the song drifted into silence. Neither of them stepped away.
“I should probably…” Mac didn’t finish the sentence.
“Stay,” he said.
She tilted her head. “Stay where?”
Connor’s voice was steady. “Here. With me. For another dance. For a little longer.”
Mac hesitated, then nodded once.
The band picked up again, another slow song unfurling under the stars.
And just like that, they were moving again, closer this time, the space between them nearly gone. No words. No need.
Just two people dancing, neither of them ready to let the moment end.