Fearing that Lanie wouldn’t be up to it, Luke hadn’t wanted to have this big reception, but Lanie had overruled him. They had so much to celebrate. To appease Luke, Lucy had suggested that they decorate the gazebo behind the farmhouse like a lady’s boudoir so Lanie would have a somewhat secluded comfortable place to receive guests that was still close enough to the party so she could enjoy it.
That’s where she was now, reclining alone on a brocade chaise lounge that Miss Annelle had lent from her shop. It was quite comfortable. Maybe she would buy it to loll on, even after the cast came off. It would be the perfect place to cuddle a honeybee and nurse a baby boy.
She reached down to pet Emma’s calico kittens as they played on the gazebo floor. The senator had given them to her, claiming he figured it would be easier to get forgiveness than ask permission. She heard footsteps entering the gazebo behind her. She didn’t turn around; she didn’t need to.
“You’re alone!” Luke’s tone was incredulous. “When I left to tuck Emma in, there were a dozen people with you!”
She reached for his hand. When he started to sit in the chair next to her, she pulled him toward the chaise. It was a tight fit, but he squeezed in and guided her head to rest against his heart. Yes. She definitely needed this chaise.
“I sent them all to dance,” she said. “I wanted to be alone for a minute to watch the party and count my blessings.”
“Have I told you today that I love you and I’ll do anything to make you believe me?”
“Yes, you have. And just as I told you that day in the hospital when I could finally make all my words come out of my mouth, you never have to do anything to make me believe you except tell me. You’ve never lied to me, not even when it would have made your life easier. That’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve made this so easy for me.” He splayed a hand on her stomach.
“We’ve had enough trouble without making something hard for the sake of it.”
“Are you getting tired?” he asked. “Do you want to go in to bed?” Her bed, these days, was one that Gail had set up in the senator’s study where there were no stairs to navigate.
“No. I want to watch the party.”
Phillip was dancing with Lucy’s Aunt Annelle and the senator was talking with Caroline Brantley. Gail and Judith fussed over the buffets while Lanie’s father frowned as he watched Keenum Sutton dance with one of Lanie’s twin sisters. Her little brother John and the other twin were over by the band socializing with the high school set — including Ben, Angela, Kirby Lawson, and other members of Nathan’s team. Two of Lanie’s new favorite women, Arabelle and Bailey, were sharing a drink and a laugh with the friend of her heart, Tolly. A little while ago she’d seen her brother Brian walking toward the peach orchard with Pam Carson. Harris handed Missy a glass of water and ushered her toward a chair. No wonder Missy was exhausted. She’d been getting up at dawn every morning to make some of the more simple candies to help keep Heavenly Confections going until Lanie was on her feet. Brantley, Lucy, and Nathan sat at a table eating slices of the huge tiered wedding cake that Kirby’s grandmother, Miss Eula, had baked.
“I guess we’re not going to have much of a wedding night,” Lanie said. “And I hope you aren’t disappointed that the wedding wasn’t bigger. But considering — ,” she put her hand over his where it rested against her womb, “ — it was better to get on with it.”
“Hmm,” Luke considered as he nuzzled her neck. “The wedding doesn’t matter to us. We only care about being married.”
The band ended “Hotel California” and went straight into “Sweet Home Alabama.”
“We care about dancing,” Lanie said.
Luke gave her one of those deep dimpled smiles that she loved so much. It was definitely a smile worth coming back to life for.
“Yes, we do,” he said, with a leer woven into his dimples.
She’d finally shared with him her theory about couples who danced well together and they’d laughed as much as she had imagined they would.
They kissed for a while. And a while longer. They might not have come up for air if they hadn’t been distracted by the rhythmic clapping coming from the dance floor.
“Who is that?” Lanie had to sit up to get a better look. There was a couple dancing in the middle of the floor and everyone else had backed up to give them room and urge them on. “No!”
But it was. Nathan and Tolly were dancing together and bringing the house down.
“What do you make of that?” Lanie asked.
“Nothing.” Luke pulled her against him again. “Strictly amateurs. Wait until you get that cast off. We’ll show them. And we’ll see about that proper wedding night.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Before they began writing as Alicia Hunter Pace, Stephanie Jones and Jean Hovey were friends — not just friends, but the finish each other’s sentences and swap shoes on the sidewalk kind of friends.
They had no idea their writing styles would be so different but, upon reflection, they could have looked at their travel styles for a clue. Jean once got off a plane in London with eight dollars, an ATM card, no reservations of any kind, and a vague idea that she wanted to go to the Victoria and Albert museum. When Stephanie travels, she arrives with a detailed concrete plan written in a notebook that she carries in a coordinating tote bag that matches her calendar and her shoes.
There’s something to be said for both philosophies. Traveling by the seat of one’s pants — whether in a foreign country or on the printed page — can lead to adventures never recorded in a guidebook, but it seems to work out better if there is a plotter along with her hand on the rudder.
Writing with a partner — most people wouldn’t do it; most people shouldn’t do it. It could easily lead to hair pulling, lawsuits, and funeral food.
But it works for them.
Stephanie lives in Jasper, AL, where she teaches third grade and wishes for a bigger bookstore. She is a native Alabamian who likes football, Civil War history, and people who follow the rules. She is happy to provide a list of said rules to anyone who needs them.
Jean, a former public librarian, lives in Decatur, AL, with her husband in a hundred-year-old house that always wants something from her. She likes to cook but has discovered the joy of Mrs. Paul’s fish fillets since becoming a writer.
Stephanie and Jean are both active members of the fabulous Heart of Dixie Chapter of Romantic Writers of America.
Sweet Gone South is the first book in their Gone South series.
Visit them at their website, http://aliciahunterpace.com
In the mood for more Crimson Romance?
Check out The Very Thought of You
by Carolann Camillo
at CrimsonRomance.com.
Sweet Gone South Page 26
