CHAPTER 38
Brock and Lynn fumbled through the kitchen door like two kids sneaking in past curfew—arms full, balance questionable, and laughing like old friends. Brock stumbled over the threshold, his stack of cake boxes lurching like a Jenga tower mid-game.
Lynn hissed as the boxes wobbled. “Don’t you dare drop those cakes or I will murder you in your sleep!”
“Have you ever thought of starting your own baking show?” Brock asked, using his shoulder to nudge the stack upright again. “You could call it The Angry Baker.”
They shuffled into the kitchen like a two-person juggling act, placing the boxes down one by one with breathless sighs and muttered praise reports. Lynn exhaled dramatically, bracing both hands on the counter like she’d just finished a marathon.
“I’ll have you know, I have thought of my own baking show—but that name won’t work.”
“Why? Not colorful enough for you?” Brock asked, pushing the boxes a little farther back with casual precision.
Lynn stuck her tongue out at him. “It won’t work because there’s already the cutest pre-teen alive with her own YouTube channel named The Angry Baker. I can’t compete with that kind of cute spunk and sass.”
She ripped open the cake boxes, tossing the cardboard behind her without care. They landed in a scattered heap near the door.
“I’d need a different name. Something original.”
“After hearing about your reaction to the kamikaze cake, I think you should totally name it The Censored Baker. Although… you might get a group of followers looking for a different kind of censorship…”
He wiggled his eyebrows and gave her a deliberately suggestive look, all mock innocence and easy mischief. Lynn’s loud, distinct laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls as she surveyed their stash.
“Or not. I’m just glad we made it. Nobody died. Nothing broke.”
She turned slowly, scanning the room—then froze, eyes locking on the clean stretch of counter where the cake had erupted.
“Wow, someone cleaned the kitchen! Boy, am I glad I saved some of the cake before we left.”
“And the pinata’s still intact.” Brock held up a finger.
“The what?” She looked over and realized—yep. He’d brought a Mexican party decoration without her realizing it. Of course he had.
“Seriously?”
Brock shrugged, flashing a lazy grin. “Hey, never underestimate the healing power of candy and cardboard. Might come in handy if round two of cake chaos decides to make an appearance. Built-in stress relief—pre-stuffed.”
Without turning around, Lynn pointed toward the far end of the kitchen. “Hang it there and stand back—because you might just be smarter than you look.”
“Well, this sounds fun in here,” came Barbara’s voice, light and cheerful. Her floral perfume announced her arrival a second before she stepped into the room.
Brock turned, still holding the pinata string. “Hey, Mom. Want to hit something with a stick? It’s surprisingly therapeutic.”
Barbara chuckled, giving him a kiss on the cheek as she passed. “Maybe later, dear. I just came to tell this beautiful young soul that the cake you lost? Divine. Even mutilated, it tasted heavenly. I’m glad you didn’t just dump it in the trash.”
Lynn grinned, brushing her hands on a dish towel. “Thank you. It was my spiritual offering before it self-destructed.”
“Well, consider me blessed,” Barbara said, completely missing the sarcasm. “Ready when you are, honey. Bryce said you’re my ride back to the loft.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brock said, grabbing the rental keys off the counter. “I’m parked right outside the kitchen door. Just gonna say a quick goodbye.”
Barbara took the keys from him and headed toward the door.
Lynn gave Brock a genuine smile. “Thanks for the ride. You’re not too bad… for a preacher man.”
Brock just grinned, a serene, knowing smile stretching across his face. He lightly bumped the bottom of his fist against her shoulder.
“I can’t wait to see who God sends into your life. That’s gonna be one righteous ride.”
Lynn laughed right in his face. “That’s rich. Beth really hasn’t told you anything about me.”
Brock raised his eyebrows.
“You clearly didn’t get the memo—I’m not the serious relationship type. Pretty cringe to my family, actually.”
“I’m not talking about that kind of relationship,” he said, still calm. “But I mean, it’s God—we both know He’s gonna get a hold of you however He wants.”
He paused, glancing toward the door that led out back, where the rest of the wedding party was gathered.
“Funny how… that’s exactly how He got to my bonehead brother.”
“Okay, Pastor Enigma,” Lynn said, folding her arms. “You’re talking in circles. What exactly are you getting at?”
“God loves you,” Brock said simply, “and He wants you in His family. You’re running—and that’s okay. It doesn’t scare Him.” He paused, eyes steady on hers.
“Because He’s got someone out there whose whole purpose is to draw you to Him. You just haven’t met them yet. But you will. Ya never know, it could even be one of those YouTube bakers you fangirl over.”
“Riiiiight,” Lynn said, drawing the word out.
“So there’s just... some random person or celebrity out there walking around with a divine mission to convert me?
” She rolled her eyes, half-laughing. “Seriously? I mean—news flash—I’ve heard about Jesus.
I did the whole Sunday school, youth group, Wednesday night pizza church thing. It’s just not for me.”
Brock just grinned, unfazed. “Yeahhhh, but when the time comes—when you do change your mind… it’s gonna be beautiful.”
He shook his head slowly, like he was already picturing it.
“You’re fiery enough to paddle straight into a storm—and before you even know what’s happening, you’ll come out the other side praising His name.” He nodded once, quiet but certain.
“Yep. When you finally ride His wave? It’s gonna be wild. I hope I get to see it.” With those final words, Brock lifted his hand in farewell and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Lynn standing in the middle of the kitchen, speechless.
A first in her adult life.
In the back yard, the rehearsal dinner had officially wound down. Plates were scraped clean, laughter had faded, and the firepit glowed with little more than soft embers. Only the newlyweds remained, everyone else having already hugged their goodbyes then slipping off into the night.
Beth smiled in quiet contentment as she watched her husband tend to the fire.
Bryce caught her watching him, and with a slow, purposeful stride, crossed to her side. There was a familiar gleam in his eye—one that made her heartbeat quicken before he even spoke.
“Come with me, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “I’ve got something I wanna do with you… and I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
His fingers traced lightly along her spine as he pulled her close. Beth’s eyes widened, her breath catching at the low, suggestive tone.
“Bryce…” she warned, her voice shaky with warning and heat. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be to ignore her physical desires for her husband.
Before she could say more, his lips were on hers—slow, sure, and teasing—before trailing kisses toward her ear. His next words tickled her skin, and the warmth of his breath sent goosebumps racing down her arms.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Mrs. Jensen.”
With a loud, exaggerated kiss on her cheek, he pulled back and grinned at her expression.
“I’m flattered…” he winked, “... but what you’re clearly wanting to do will have to wait until we’re married properly. Tomorrow.”
Beth let out a half-laugh, half-squeal and smacked him on the chest. “You are the worst!”
“Yet you love me.” Laughing, he snagged her hand and pulled her around to the front of the house and up the porch steps to the front door. And waited.
“You wanted to show me the door?” Beth asked, looking up at him in wide-eyed confusion.
“Look around,” he prompted.
It didn’t take long for her to notice the new swing hanging in place of the old one.
She looked at Bryce.
“You bought my parents a new swing?” Beth asked, still not understanding its significance.
He shrugged, casual but confident, with the faintest hint of a smug grin. “I got us a new one. I’m not about to spend my wedding day—or the rest of my life—sitting on the swing where another man’s lips were on yours.”
His grin was a blend of jealousy and confidence. Then his arm shot out, pulling her close with possessive flair—staking his claim. Beth’s head fell back in carefree laughter at his words, expression, and entire posture.
It didn’t take long for his lips to find the skin of her neck—slow, deliberate, nibbling softly, teasing his way toward her jaw, until—
“EWwwwwwwww,” the word came out drawn and horrified. “Cooooommmmeeee oooonnnnnn! Scarlett! Rhett! Seriously??? Aggghhh!”
Lynn’s voice rang out from the doorway, her hands dramatically slapped over her eyes as she stumbled back with theatrical flair. “My eyes—oh, my eyes!”
Beth jumped back, heart skipping, heat rushing to her face as embarrassment flooded her. Of course, Lynn would make a scene. She could feel the blush rising before she even turned toward the door.
“Lynn!” Kim hollered through a cascade of laughter, reaching from inside the house to grab her by the arm. “Let them say goodbye!”
“Go away!” Bryce barked in mock outrage, gently steering Lynn back inside. He reached past her and slammed the door shut with a satisfying thud.
Then, with a wicked grin, his arms were around Beth again pulling her close, like nothing and no one could interrupt this moment twice.
Beth couldn’t hold it in—she broke into helpless giggles, the mood completely wrecked, but somehow still perfect. Her face was on fire, and Bryce? He looked absolutely smug.
He kissed one cheek. Then the other. Not rushed. Not teasing. Just… sweet. Intimate.
By the time his lips found hers—soft, warm, unhurried—she was smiling against his mouth. Beth sighed, heat spreading through her like warm honey.
“I really should go in…”
But she didn’t move. Instead, she rose onto her toes and brushed a kiss against his mouth needing just one more.
“…They’re probably watching us through the window,” she whispered against his lips.
Bryce grinned. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
Beth gasped, nonplussed, blinking at him.
Before she could recover, the front door burst open again.
Lynn stood there, red-faced and breathless, clearly having just wrestled her way free from Kim. “NOPE!” she declared, pointing a finger straight at Bryce. “You—beat it, buster. You get her tomorrow. Tonight? She’s ours.”
She grabbed Beth by the arm and began dragging her backward into the house.
Kim was doubled over, laughing so hard she could barely stand.
Beth sputtered, still halfway in a dreamy daze. “But… but—”
“No buts!” Lynn shouted.
The door slammed shut, and the last thing Bryce heard—muffled through the wood—was Beth’s stunned voice saying, “He just quoted Gone with the Wind!”
Bryce chuckled, turning to jog down the steps toward his car, heart full and pulse ticking with anticipation.
Tomorrow was their wedding.
Tomorrow night was for them.