“Sorry to bother you. I was making myself a cuppa in the kitchen when I noticed someone trying to break into your house—a small female someone,” she added in a whisper.
Joe’s pulse kicked into a sprint. He could only think of one female someone. The same female someone he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of, goddamn pining for, the past three weeks.
There was nothing wrong with Trent’s ears, since he piped up, “Would that be the doc’s special someone, Maggie?”
“It might,” she said.
“Do you mind waiting while I go and deal with this?” Joe asked.
He really hoped Trent didn’t mind because he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from sprinting out of his surgery right this instant. Then again, this was an island. And unless Mac intended to hijack a boat or swim back to the mainland, he had a little time.
Trent grinned. “Long as you don’t require backup.”
“I can handle a small female burglar.”
Joe unhooked the stethoscope from around his neck and handed it to Maggie, who took it with an eye roll.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she said. “Seems she’s been more than you can handle so far.”
Wasn’t that the truth? But that she was here—albeit trying to break into his house—must mean something.
“Won’t be long.” Then he paused. Actually, once he got his hands on his petite burglar, he just might be.
“Hang on a minute.” He lunged for the desk, scribbled his signature on his prescription pad, tore the sheet off, and slapped it into Maggie’s hand. “No charge for today.” He whirled around to Trent. “Take one capsule twice a day; you should feel better within forty-eight hours. I’ll give you a call tomorrow to check you’re improving.”
“I know the drill,” Trent said. “Now, go get her.”
Joe took off out the center’s back door and ran across the parking lot. The front of the cottage looked the same as it always did, the path leading to it empty except for a couple of kaka birds strutting around hoping to find a sucker to feed them. Had she gone already?
He strode down the side of the cottage, skidding to a halt at the curvy, blue-jean-covered arse half in, half out of one of the old-fashioned sash windows. One that led into his bedroom. One he’d left partially open since it was an unusually warm day, and nobody bothered much about bolting shut windows in Oban since the crime rate was negligible.
However, his cat burglar would have some explaining to do if one of his neighbors called Noah.
He cleared his throat. “Need a boost?”
The wriggling arse froze, one knee almost reaching the high sill, the other leg pointed down, sneakered toe scraping against the weatherboard to find purchase. A few four-letter words were muttered by the woman attached to the gorgeous arse and then a long, drawn-out sigh.
“Yes, please,” Mac said. “And then I’d appreciate if you wait five minutes before coming inside, so I can get back to my brilliant plan.”
Joe smothered a grin, even though he couldn’t see Mac’s head since her upper body was hanging over his windowsill. “I’m guessing that breaking and entering wasn’t part of your brilliance?”
“You think?” Mac huffed, her arse giving another delicious jiggle. “Next time, let a girl know when you relocate your spare key.”
“Sure you don’t want me to help you down, so you can walk in my front door?”
“Nope. I’m committed now. Boost, please.”
So, so tempted to lean in and give the firm mound a nip, Joe instead slipped his hand under a sneaker sole and lifted. Mac got her knee onto the sill and squirmed forward, dropping to the bedroom floor with a thud.
“Knew those gymnastic classes at primary school would pay off,” she said, still hidden below the window. “Now, go and wait for five minutes and pretend to be surprised when you come inside.”
“All right.”
He went to do as he was ordered with a flutter in his gut and a spring in his step. He stood out the front of the cottage and watched the kakas strut. Listened to the squawk of gulls circling above his head and the sough of the waves washing ashore on Halfmoon Bay beach while the sea breeze sifted through his hair.
Mac was inside his house, and hope began to surge through his veins in time with the rhythm of the waves. Whether she was here for an hour, a night, or the weekend, he’d take every moment and live in it with her. As long as he could find a way to keep her coming back to him, it’d be enough for now. It had to be.
Once he estimated five minutes had passed, Joe unlocked his front door and entered. The cottage creaked around him in welcome as he went through the empty kitchen and down the hallway to his bedroom. He opened the door and stepped inside. Mac sat on his rose-petal strewn-bed. She still wore her blue jeans, but now he could see her face was scrubbed of makeup, and her long blond hair was loose and un-brushed, tumbling over her shoulders.
“Hey,” he said. Maybe even a little breathlessly, as she was just that beautiful.
Then she smiled at him. A little nervous, a little hopeful, a little of everything that made Mac his. The stomach flutters eased. He’d rolled the dice and gambled his heart on this woman. Now he was about to find out how big a payoff he’d won.
Mac wasn’t much of a gambler. She didn’t buy a weekly lottery ticket, she was better at Snap than poker, and the only thing she’d won in a quick-fire raffle at a school fete was a cured leg of ham. In truth, the biggest risk she’d ever taken was buying Invercargill Bridal from Tabitha Lowe and transforming it into Next Stop, Vegas.
Until today. Specifically, until she’d decided to climb into Joe’s bedroom with a backpack of supplies and a plan that wasn’t so much brilliant as it was the act of an insanely in love woman. One who had nothing but pride left to lose. And Joe…but, God, she couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Hey,” she said in return.
Followed by an immediate brain freeze as the words of her practiced speech flew around inside her head like tossed confetti. Did she mention the insane part? Some of that was due to hormonal overload of being this close to him again, her body tingling as if it were yearning to snuggle up against him. Joe continued to watch her, his expression not giving anything away. Unfortunately, while she sucked at poker, he didn’t.
“Will you come sit next to me?” she asked.
Joe walked over to the bed and eased down beside her. His cologne curled into her nose, the masculine scent of it—of him—enough to sap the remaining strength in her legs. A shiver rippled through her, but before she could speak, Joe linked his fingers with hers.
“Take a steadying breath before you faint, darlin’,” he said. “There’s no rush and nowhere else I want to be but here with you.”
She looked at him then, really looked at him. The eyes she’d once thought the color of blue ice chips were warm on her face like the arc of a summer sky. Fine lines crinkled his forehead as he stroked a thumb over her knuckles, and she melted a little under the warmth of his concern.
“I’ve been an eejit,” she said. “And if these past few weeks were a chick flick, I would’ve been calling myself a number of unflattering names for being so dense as to not see what was right under my nose.”
“And that would be?”
“Dumbass, flighty cow, silly, stubborn bitch—”
He interrupted with a laugh. “No. What’s been right under your nose?”
“You have,” she said. “And how I feel about you—what I’ll always feel for you. I shouldn’t have run from you in Vegas; I should’ve stayed and used my words, like a grown-up.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “I figured out that if I continued to fear losing you, then I’d never know the happiness of loving you, and I want to love you every day for the rest of my life.”
“You believe me then, darlin’? That I won’t quit on you?”
“I believe you. I see how loyal you are to your patients here in Oban. I see how invested you are in their lives and your friends’ and family’s l
ives, and I know now that you’ll be just as committed as I am to making our marriage last a lifetime. It won’t be all champagne and roses, though.”
“Nothing worth fighting for comes with a free pass. And we’re worth fighting for.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry I tried to rush you into something you weren’t sure about when we’ll have that lifetime together.”
“I wasn’t sure about us getting married right then and there in Vegas, but I am sure about you.” She lifted their linked fingers and placed them on her denim-covered thigh. “Do you remember what I tell some of my brides?”
Joe’s nose scrunched up. “If you won’t get married in blue jeans, no makeup, and messy hair, then it’s about the wedding day and not the marriage.” His nose smoothed, and his eyebrows lifted. “Aha. You’re wearing blue jeans.”
He traced a fingertip down her jaw and tugged on a strand of her hair. Delicious prickles spread over Mac’s scalp from his touch.
“And no makeup, and your hair looks like you’ve stuck a finger in a power socket.”
“Let’s not be rude about my hair,” she said. “But yes, I’m making a point, a statement of intention.” She wriggled her fingers out of his grasp and leaned over to unzip her backpack at the foot of the bed. From it she pulled a white and gold spun cord, complete with tasseled ends.
“You’re planned to strangle me and bury my body on the Rakiura Track?” he said. “Do I really drive you that insane?”
She laughed. “Yeah, you really do. Insane with love.” She dangled the cord in front of him. “I want to be hand-fasted with you.”
“You want to be what?”
“You haven’t heard of hand-fasting? It’s an old country tradition.”
“Hang on—I do remember my granny saying something about it with her grandparents.” His gaze softened, a smile curving his mouth. “Been reading up on Irish customs, have we?”
“We have,” she agreed. “In the olden days, a couple would hand-fast and live together for a year as an engaged couple.” Heat crept onto her cheeks. “And were encouraged to consummate the relationship. After the period of one year, they’d decide whether or not they still wanted to get married.”
Mac held out her hand, and Joe took it. Between them both they managed to wrap the cord around their joined hands.
“I’m not sure what I’m meant to say,” Mac said, “but I want to be hand-fasted with you. I want to love you every day until forever. I want to make a home with you here and a home with you in Invers, until we can work out what’s best for us both. I want kids that’ll have amazing grandparents, uncles, and a very special auntie. I want to walk with you, talk with you, laugh with you, and take care of you on days when you’ve given everything of yourself to take care of other people. I won’t need a year to know you’re the man I want to marry. You’ll be the only man I say I do to.”
“That’s good to know because I’ll only ever say I do to one woman in my lifetime. And that’s you.”
Joe leaned in and kissed her until she was breathless.
Mac giggled as they tried to free the silken cord around their wrists, so she could twine herself around her man and bind him to her in another, more intimate way.
“We couldn’t possibly love each other more than we do right now,” she said.
“Yeah, we could.” The hand-fasting cord dropped to the floor, and Joe hauled her into his lap. “And we will.”
Epilogue
Four months later…
“Y’sure about this?” Kyle said from Joe’s left as they strolled toward Halfmoon Bay beach. “Because even though all of Oban’ll be there today, we can still make a getaway on one of those fishing boats. As best man number one, I’m happy to split the expense.”
“You’re best man number two, arsewipe,” Luke said on Joe’s right. “Anyway, it’s not Joe bailing we need worry about.”
Joe shoulder-checked both his younger brothers without breaking stride or rumpling the white button-down shirt he wore. “Both of you, shut yer gobs. Nobody’s running anywhere.”
“Third time’s the charm, right, Joey?” Luke said.
Yep, MacKenna had felt the need to come clean with his family about the Vegas affair. Surprisingly, his whole family thought Mac fleeing through a casino in her wedding gown a grand hoot, something they’d teased them about in the previous months while Mac was seamlessly accepted into the Whelan clan. Joe had worried that Mac’s admission would cause his parents to form doubts regarding his and Mac’s commitment to each other, but his mam had set him straight.
She’d gently cuffed his head. “Considering Mac’s background, I would’ve had doubts about you two eloping in Vegas. She just needed some time to get used to the idea that Whelans fall hard and fast.”
“And forever,” he’d added.
“And forever,” his mam had agreed. “And I can tell she knows you’re her forever, too.”
Good enough for Joe.
“Call me Joey again, and I’ll strangle you with your own bow tie,” he said as they reached the foreshore road, and—a hand-painted sign on a stick that said:
Runaway bride this way.
With love hearts and an arrow pointing toward the beach in front of Due South.
Butterflies fluttered to life inside Joe’s stomach, wheeling around like the seabirds surfing the air currents above. Oban had outdone itself weather-wise on this sunny February day, with only a light breeze ruffling his hair and the harbor waves barely tiny ripples. Late afternoon summer sunshine beat down on his head, and he was thankful Mac had shopped at Russell’s grocery store earlier that week and bought him some extra-strength underarm deodorant.
Kyle snorted and elbowed him. “Your girl’s got a sense of humor.”
“She has,” Joe said. “One of the many things I love about her.”
They continued to walk along the road and soon spotted the large crowd of people standing on the beach. Among the crowd would be his parents and Kerry and Aaron, who—
yeah, yeah—were very much in love. He’d been wrong about them and wrong about Mac in the beginning, too. Luckily, she’d shown him the error of his ways.
“She’s sneaky, too,” Luke added. “How she found a secret place in your tiny house to paint a sign, I’ll never know.”
“In her sewing room, eejit,” Kyle said. “Joe’s not dumb enough to trespass among all her half-finished dresses and beads and shit. He’d be a dead man.”
“True,” said Joe. “I stay out of her way when she’s working in there.”
He’d willingly cleared out the small, second bedroom of his boxes of junk so Mac had space to set up a sewing machine and the other equipment she needed to work on her one-off gowns. She’d delegated most of the responsibility of Next Stop, Vegas to Laura, and Reid had almost doubled the wedding-planning side of Mac’s business in the past four months. Leaving his fiancée to do what she loved most—create beautiful, breathtaking gowns to make each and every one of her brides feel special.
They reached the children’s playground and the stretch of grass opposite Due South. Staked into the ground by the giant playable chess grid, was another hand-painted sign.
I really, really love you, Joe Whelan. This bride will never run away again.
His feet moved faster, carrying him across the grass to the low bank that dropped down to the sand. His friends were at the back of the crowd—Ford, Harley, Ben, Del, Kip, and West—six big guys who blocked Joe’s clear view of the wedding arch, where he’d wait for Mac to walk down the aisle. He was about to tell them to move when West spotted him and nudged his brother, Del—who in turn nudged Ben. Within seconds, all six of his mates had half turned toward him.
“About time you showed up,” West said. “We were starting to get worried.”
Wait—what?
Joe was exactly on time—thirty minutes before the wedding was due to start. He slanted a side eye at Kyle, who gave him the kind of innocent stare he used as a kid after stealing a piece of Joe’s brac
k. Joe’s eyes narrowed, scanning the very full crowd of locals who, come to think of it, were all here earlier than he’d expected and curved in a protective semicircle around the arch. The arch itself was draped in fabric with cheery orange flowers—gerberas—he remembered now. Mac had asked him if he had a color scheme preference, and he’d laughed and said no, kissing her until flower colors were the last thing on her mind.
His mates stepped aside, and the sand aisle stretched in front of him, down to the floaty orange dresses worn by Mac’s bridesmaids, Holly and Kaitlyn, and her male attendant, Reid, who wore a smirk and a matching orange bow tie.
Wait—what? Again.
What were Mac’s bridesmaids and Reid doing here before him? He glanced around the crowd one more time, at the smiling faces and laughing eyes. Then his gaze was drawn back to the front when Holly, Kaitlyn, and Reid stepped aside and revealed Mac. His perfect, tiny, gorgeous MacKenna who’d been standing behind her friends.
For the life of him, he couldn’t have described the dress she must’ve spent hours creating. All he saw was it draping over the curves of her body, falling in a foamy puddle of white on the sand. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, the sunlight gleaming through the silken strands and the sheer veil that trailed down her back. He was pretty sure his heart stopped at the sight of her for a count of five while he drank her in.
The words of an old Irish blessing rose in his mind.
You for me and I for thee and never another. Your face turned to mine and away from all others.
He’d never, ever be able to turn his face from Mac. Not if they lived the next half-century wrapped in each other’s arms.
“I wanted to make sure you knew how much I wanted to marry you, Joe,” Mac called from the front. “So I decided to get here a little early, so you wouldn’t have to wait.”
Her smile was enough to bring him to his knees, but instead, he stepped down onto the sand, his brothers at his side.
“Dude, you’re leaking,” Ford stage-whispered, waving a crumpled-up tissue at him.
Saying I Do (Stewart Island Series Book 8) Page 26
