An August Bride

by Debra Clopton

  Oh, how she loved him. She knew it. She’d known it.

  She’d just denied it.

  She moved to him and placed her hand over his mouth. “Shhh, please.” She held his startled gaze with her smiling one. “I need to talk. I do trust you, Brent. And I love you. I was trying to say no, I couldn’t let you move into town. I love it here. And this is where I want our babies to grow up.”

  She removed her hand and watched as his expression lifted, and then in one swift motion, he pulled her into his arms and his lips captured hers. At last.

  When he finally pulled away, he was smiling. “But you’ll keep the bistro?”

  She chuckled. “Yes. And there is only one term that has to be met.”

  He was grinning now, cocky and full of fun and love, just like the cowboy she loved. “Anything you want.”

  “We have to have a beach wedding, here on our beach.”

  He squeezed her close. “It’s the only way. You going to wear that gold dress?”

  She laughed. “God might work in mysterious ways, but I have a feeling he’s done with that mermaid dress.”

  He spun them and then took her into a slow dip. “Darlin’, you can wear overalls for all I care, as long as you say ‘I do.’ ”

  Looking up at him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I do. I do in good times and in bad, with or without a ranch, as long as I have you.”

  He brought them out of the dip and tenderly kissed the tip of her nose. “That sounds like the perfect plan to me.”

  And then he kissed her with all the promise of tomorrow . . .

  1. Why did Kelsey not like weddings? Did Kelsey feel like a failure after she was left standing at the altar?

  2. Working with the shelter, providing meals, and providing a few women with jobs gave Kelsey something very rewarding to focus on other than her own problems. When you are hurting, have you ever thought of volunteering? How can being of service to others give you new perspective?

  3. Kelsey judged Brent the moment she saw his boots. And as the story developed she continued to try to put Brent in a neat little mold that her mind had of what a cowboy was. What were some of the things Brent did that were not typical of what she thought he would enjoy?

  4. When they were on the yacht, Brent called Kelsey a blessing. No one had ever called her a blessing before. He also altered the conversation and asked her how she was really doing after being left at the altar. He was interested in her feelings, her emotions. He was digging deeper to get to know her. To get past the superficial exterior and really find out about the woman he’d saved in the surf the day before. How did this affect Kelsey?

  5. At Tiffany and Steven’s wedding Kelsey faces the fact that she’d been over Lance, her ex-fiancé, for a long time, but it was the lingering effects of his betrayal that had caused her so much pain. How does she react to this epiphany? What held her back from moving forward at that moment of realization?

  6. After the matchmaking attempts from the posse, and after Kelsey leaves the ranch, Brent realized he was pushing too hard for what he wanted. He wanted a relationship with Kelsey—but he hadn’t listened to what she wanted. Have you ever gone after what you wanted without considering the other person’s wishes?

  7. How about this—have you ever gone after what you wanted without asking the Lord what it was that He wanted for you?

  8. In the end Kelsey learned to trust and move forward with her life, and in doing so she was able to fully embrace the emotions and love she felt for Brent. What did you think about how things worked out with their situation? What did you enjoy most about this book?

  An Excerpt from A SEPTEMBER BRIDE

  By Kathryn Springer

  Annie Price didn’t know why Mondays had such a bad reputation.

  This one happened to be perfect. Sunshine. A smooth stretch of open road. A scented breeze sifting through the sunroof of her car.

  Flashing red and blue lights in the rearview mirror.

  The police car those lights happened to be attached to triggered a strangely familiar, built-in reflex, and Annie’s foot tapped the brake. One of the cardboard boxes lining the backseat tipped forward, and a wave of Styrofoam packing peanuts spilled over the side, flowing underneath the seat and pooling around her feet. Along with the antique spoon collection Annie had spent the last half hour carefully packing inside that box.

  She steered onto the shoulder of the road and waited for the squad car to drive past. Except . . . it didn’t. It pulled up right behind her.

  There was no time to contemplate the exact nature of her crime because a county deputy quickly appeared at the window, blotting out the sun like an eclipse in brown polyester.

  Annie’s gaze glanced off the gold badge centered above his pocket and followed a row of perfectly aligned buttons all the way to a face that looked as if it had been carved from a chunk of granite. Angular jaw. Sculpted cheekbones. Hair a rich sable brown, cropped close to his head to discourage any type of wayward behavior.

  And speaking of wayward . . .

  Annie squinted at her distorted reflection in the deputy’s mirrored sunglasses and noticed one of her curls had gone rogue. Leaning forward for a better look, she tucked it back in place.

  The deputy whipped off the sunglasses and a pair of eyes as blue as the cloudless sky locked with hers.

  “Do you know why I stopped you?” His crisp tone matched the September morning, leaving Annie to wonder if he always sounded that way or if it was part of the uniform.

  “No.” Was this a trick question? Annie caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Don’t you?” she ventured.

  The blue eyes narrowed. “You have a brake light out. And your tailpipe is hanging by a thread.”

  Actually, the tailpipe was hanging by a piece of binder twine—a little detail Annie knew because she was the one who’d tied it in place—but she decided it would be best not to correct him.

  “I know.” Annie flashed what she hoped was a See-I’m-An-Honest-Upstanding-Citizen smile. “I just haven’t had time to get them fixed.”

  “Well, now you have five days.” He didn’t return the smile.

  Annie contemplated offering him one of the leftover donuts from her early morning get- together with the historical society, but he would probably arrest her for trying to bribe an officer of the law.

  “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I’ll take care of it right away,” she promised.

  Instead of leaving, the deputy took a step closer. Annie dragged in a breath and held it while he took a slow but thorough inventory of the interior of her car. She knew the exact moment he zeroed in on the spoons.

  “Those don’t belong to me,” Annie said quickly.

  One eyebrow lifted. “Is that so?”

  “I mean, I’m just . . . transporting them. For a friend.”

  There you go, Annie. That sounded so much better.

  His expression remained unreadable. “I’ll need to see your license and registration, please.”

  “Of course.” Annie twisted toward the glove compartment, but the seat belt chose that particular moment to resist the sudden change in position and held her firmly in place. Acutely aware the officer was watching her every move, she finally managed to free herself from its grip.

  Could the situation be any more embarrassing?

  Apparently the answer to that question was yes, because the door on the glove compartment gave way—she really needed to get that loose hinge fixed too—and released an avalanche of the miniature candy bars Annie kept on hand for emergencies. On the bright side, the empty compartment made it easier to locate the envelope holding her insurance information.

  “Here you go.” It took every ounce of Annie’s self-control not to grab one of the candy bars and devour it while the officer verified she hadn’t stolen the car. Or the chocolate. Or the silver spoons scattered around her feet.

  A discreet glance at her wristwatch told Annie she had exactly seven minutes to get to work,
unlock the door, and brew a pot of coffee for her first customers.

  “Everything is in order, Officer?” Somehow, it came out sounding more like a question than a statement.

  The deputy handed her the envelope, and Annie couldn’t help but notice the papers looked tidier now than they had the first time she’d stashed them inside. “License, please.”

  “It’s right here, in my—” Annie stared at the empty spot on the passenger seat, where her purse should have been riding shotgun.

  “Let me guess,” he drawled. “You don’t have it with you?”

  “No, I . . . no. It’s in my purse. Which is . . . somewhere. Else.” Panic shorted out the circuits in her brain. “I have one, though. A license.” Annie knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t find the shut-off valve to staunch the flow of words. “I never go anywhere without it. Except today, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Was that a tiny spark of amusement Annie saw in his eyes?

  She couldn’t be sure, because the sunglasses slid back into place, shielding his expression.

  Heart beating in double-time, Annie silently retraced her early morning route. She’d stopped at the bakery for the donuts and then swung by the gas station to fill up the tank and buy a package of red licorice for Mr. Gunderson, whose arthritis was acting up again. After that, she’d driven to Caroline McCready’s house. The older woman had recently made a generous donation to the historical society, and the committee members offered to pack up some of the more fragile antiques. Annie volunteered to be the designated driver, transporting the items to their new home at the museum. She’d deliver them during her lunch hour, when she also planned to give Mr. Gunderson his licorice.

  She wasn’t getting anywhere, and she didn’t want him to think she was just stalling. Maybe if she started at the beginning . . . She’d showered and dressed, and then a few minutes before she’d left her apartment, her friend, Lorna, had called to ask about a box of old playbills Annie had discovered while cleaning out the storage closet at the bookstore, so . . .

  “I know where it is!” Annie clapped her hands together. “My license . . . I left it at the bookstore!”

  The deputy didn’t appear nearly as thrilled as Annie that her short-term memory had returned. In fact, he looked downright skeptical. “Are you talking about Second Story Books?”

  “Yes.” Annie didn’t know whether to be relieved he’d actually heard of it or terrified he might be a regular customer. Although she couldn’t imagine Deputy Tall, Dark, and Disturbing being comfortable in the bookstore’s whimsical setting, with its pastel furniture and cheery yellow walls. “I must have left my purse on the counter.”

  “The bookstore doesn’t open until ten.”

  Rats. Regular customer.

  “That’s true, but I can get in.” Annie pointed to the cluster of keys hanging from the ignition like a miniature set of wind chimes. “I’m the manager.”

  “The manager . . .” He paused, the word hanging in the air between them, almost as if he were giving her time to retract the statement.

  “I’ve only been there a few weeks.” Annie tried to ignore the prickle of unease that rappelled up her spine, one vertebra at a time. “But I love Red Leaf. Everyone is so friendly.”

  “Name and date of birth, please.”

  Well, almost everyone.

  “Anne Price. With an e. But everyone calls me Annie. And my birthday is October twenty-fourth?” Don’t make it sound like a question! “Yes. October twenty-fourth.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Before Annie could blink, the deputy turned on his heel and strode away.

  “Jesse!” Lorna Kent answered on the first ring. “I didn’t expect to hear from you until this evening. Did you take the day off?”

  “No, I’m on duty.” Jesse kept an eye on the rust-stained vehicle parked on the side of the road. “And I just pulled over a woman named Annie Price who claims she’s the manager of Second Story Books. The last I knew, that title belonged to someone else.”

  Jesse half expected to hear a shriek. At the very least, a gasp of disbelief. Not . . . laughter.

  “Well . . . you’ve been gone for three weeks, sweetheart,” Lorna declared. “A lot can happen in that amount of time. I decided to make a few changes.”

  Changes?

  His mother was as predictable as an eastern sunrise. She thrived on routine, whether it was the menu for Sunday dinner—baked chicken, creamed peas, and mashed potatoes—or watering the row of African violets on her kitchen windowsill from left to right every Wednesday while she watched Jeopardy.

  “Are you telling me that you actually turned the bookstore over to a . . . stranger?” The unexpected announcement might have rattled any preconceived notions Jesse had about his mother, but there was one thing he did know for sure—he’d never seen Annie Price before.

  He would have remembered.

  “Annie isn’t a stranger. She happens to be a member of my book club.”

  An alarm went off in Jesse’s head. He knew of only one book club that his mother faithfully attended. “You met her on the Internet?”

  “It’s an online group, yes,” his mother confirmed. “But Annie and I have gotten to know each other quite well over the past six months. There were talks of layoffs where she worked, and as it turned out I happened to have an opening at the bookstore.”

  “An opening—” Jesse’s back molars snapped together. “You gave her your job!”

  Along with the keys to the front door—and the safe.

  “Believe me, Annie was an answer to my prayers.” Lorna’s voice dropped a notch. “And I think moving to Red Leaf just might have been an answer to one of hers.”

  Jesse didn’t doubt that for a second. Scam artists were always on the lookout for an easy mark. Someone like his mother, who assumed the best in everyone in spite of what she’d gone through in the past. Experience had taught Jesse that trust was something a person had to earn.

  “You don’t know anything about this woman, Mom.”

  “I know the things that matter. Annie is a hard worker, and she’s already gotten involved in the community. Everyone on the committee loves her.”

  “What committee?” Jesse’s fingers tightened around his personal cell phone.

  “She joined the historical society. In fact, we were together a few minutes ago. Cricket McCready asked the committee members to meet at her house this morning to pack up the items she donated to the museum.”

  “Spoons.” The word rolled out with Jesse’s sigh. “I saw them.”

  The explanation for the spoons being in Annie Price’s possession didn’t exactly put Jesse’s mind at ease. Why would a woman in her mid-twenties with no ties to the town join the local historical society?

  “You saw them? What did you do, search her vehicle?” Lorna teased.

  “Of course not.” Unfortunately, Jesse didn’t have probable cause. “It was a courtesy stop. Her brake light is out.”

  “I knew it had to be something like that.” Lorna sounded way too confident. “Annie is as sweet as maple syrup. I can’t imagine her doing anything wrong.”

  And therein lay the problem.

  Jesse’s gaze cut back to the vehicle. The topic of their conversation was leaning out the window, looking not at him but at a flock of geese flying in a perfect V formation over the trees. The breeze toyed with a short platinum curl, and Annie pushed it back into place—without using his sunglasses as a mirror this time.

  She caught his eye and pointed at the sky, the smile on her face warm enough to melt right through Jesse’s Kevlar vest.

  The woman was trouble, no doubt about it.

  The radio attached to his belt crackled, and Jesse heard the county dispatcher sending officers to a fender bender at an intersection a few miles away.

  A formal written notice would have to wait. Jesse pointed to the road and waved her on.

  If possible, Annie’s smile grew even wider. She waved b
ack, ducked inside the car, and put it into gear.

  “Are you still planning to come for dinner tonight?” His mother’s question yanked Jesse’s attention back to the moment as he strode toward the squad car. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “I think you already filled your quota for the day,” Jesse said drily. “But I’ll be there.”

  To find out what was going on.

  He wasn’t a fan of surprises . . . or change. And no matter what his mother claimed, Jesse could trace both of them to a common source. A curly-haired sprite with a smile so captivating it had the power to make a man forget his own name.

  Annie Price.

  The story continues in An August Bride by Debra Clopton . . .

  A Cowboy for Katie, a novella in Four Weddings and a Kiss

  An Ever After Summer, a novella in A Bride for All Seasons

  Her Unforgettable Cowboy

  Her Homecoming Cowboy

  Her Lone Star Cowboy

  Her Rodeo Cowboy

  Her Forever Cowboy

  His Cowgirl Bride

  The Trouble with Lacy Brown

  Debra Clopton is a multi-award-winning novelist who was first published in 2005 and has more than twenty-two novels to her credit. Along with her writing, Debra helps her husband teach the youth at their local Cowboy Church. Debra is the author of the acclaimed Mule Hollow Matchmaker series, the place readers tell her they wish were real. Her goal is to shine a light toward God while she entertains readers with her words.