Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride

by Autumn Macarthur

  "I hope our little ceilidh made up for you missing the big street party," Helen said.

  “I had a wonderful evening!” Tiff smiled. It was true. Even though Mac clearly didn’t want to allow anything more to happen between them, she wouldn’t undo what had happened. “Thank you so much for letting me join in your celebration.”

  “Maybe Mac can bring you again next year?”

  Tiff gulped. Helen was sweet, but she obviously hoped they were a couple. She’d seen it last night too, in the teasing and hints around the table as they’d had supper. Even worse after Mac asked if she could stay longer.

  She needed to correct those false hopes straight away. Not just to convince Helen, but herself, too.

  “This is my one and only Hogmanay. I’ll be back in L.A., next New Year’s.”

  Helen laughed, pursed her lips, and shook her head a little, obviously disbelieving.

  It wasn’t just Helen who seemed determined to see them as a couple. His brothers too, teased them about “watching the fireworks” with an emphasis that made it way too clear they didn’t think that was what they’d been doing at all.

  Mac silently ate the huge breakfast his mother had put in front of him, merely smiling occasionally when Brodie and Fraser’s ribbing became too ridiculous.

  It seemed the more she insisted they hardly knew each other, the more his family thought the opposite. As for protesting that kissing the person nearest at midnight was simply what Americans did on New Year’s Eve, all that did was trigger a playful argument between his brothers about which of them got to have the midnight dance with her next Hogmanay.

  But that gave her a chance to direct their attention away from her and Mac.

  “What about Alistair? Does he get a chance?” She laughed, almost convincingly.

  An odd pained look crossed Cat’s expressive face.

  So she wanted to be the one with Alistair at midnight. Poor Cat. He’d hardly seemed to glance her way at the ceilidh.

  Tiff sighed, and silently prayed for Cat. She wouldn’t have joked about it if she’d imagined her flippant attempt to divert attention from her and Mac would hurt his sister.

  If only she hadn’t kissed him last night.

  It hadn’t even been a proper kiss, yet it caused all this speculation. Not only that, it stirred up her feelings for him far more than was wise. She really did hardly know him. And he’d been right when he’d told her he wasn’t a good choice. They might both be preacher’s kids and both twins, but that was all they had in common.

  Before she’d come to London, the idea of a little holiday romance had appealed. Some fun dates, just sightseeing. Something light, and not the least bit serious. No kissing. No meaningful looks. No spending all her time wondering what he was thinking.

  But the way she'd felt as she looked up at Mac last night in that hall as the bells rang out hadn’t been light, or fun.

  The way she felt as she looked at his dark profile now wasn’t light or fun, either.

  It was time to change how she felt, fast.

  The last thing she wanted or needed was to get serious about Mac, or any man. God had given her this wonderful opportunity, and she intended to make the most of it, not waste time staring at Mac.

  “So what are you two planning today?” Cat asked, changing the subject.

  Despite her doubts whether she’d done the right thing agreeing to stay, getting on the train and leaving today would have been hard. Winter sunlight shone in through the kitchen windows and the sky was a clear pale blue. A perfect day to go sightseeing.

  Mac looked up from his bacon and eggs. “I’m guessing Tiffany will want to go shopping, so that means the Princes Road.” His tone was resigned, accompanied by something suspiciously like an eye roll.

  Tears pricked at Tiff’s eyes and she clenched them shut before she made a fool of herself, and ruined her mascara. Just because she loved clothes and shoes, that didn’t mean she was a mindless shopaholic. Yet Mac thought exactly the same about her as her own family did. She sighed. Was she really as mindless and useless as they all thought?

  No. She knew there was more to her than that, even if no one else did.

  Or she hoped there was more to her than that, anyway.

  “As it happens, no, I don’t want to shop.” She couldn’t quite manage to keep the triumphant note out of her reply. “I’d like to do the Scot:Lands event.”

  She pulled the brochure she’d picked up at the train station the day before out of her pocket and read from it. “Artists and musicians welcome in the New Year at surprising and atmospheric venues in Edinburgh's Old Town and beyond. Set your compass and join us on a journey through Edinburgh’s Old Town, in the new, mystical and magical world of Scot:Lands.”

  Mac’s surprised and questioning look was like manna to her hungry heart. Good. She wanted to surprise him.

  “It says there are ten different locations, and it’s all less than a mile apart. It should be interesting, and it’s only on for today.” She looked at the brochure again. “Between noon and five.”

  “I’m off to work an afternoon shift at the hospital, or I’d be asking if I could join you.” Cat said, with a smile as she stood and put her plate in the sink. “And talking of work, I’d better get moving. See you all later.”

  Fraser stood too, and leaned over her shoulder to look at the brochure. He wrinkled his nose. “That culture stuff isn’t for me. I’ve got five-a-side.”

  “Five-a-side?”

  “He means football,” Mac explained. He reached out a hand for the brochure, and glanced at it. “Okay, if that’s what you want, of course that’s what we’ll do.” He looked around at the others. “Mum, Dad, do you want to join us?”

  His parents exchanged a glance that held a suspicious hint of ‘Let’s not play gooseberry.’

  Robert shook his head. “I have Sunday’s sermon to write, and visits to housebound parishioners to make.”

  Helen smiled as she started collecting up the breakfast dishes. Tiff stood to help, but was waved back to her seat. “No, lassie, I’m happy to do this. I’m one of those rare bods who enjoys washing up. I pray as I do it.” She looked over to her husband. “You know, I think I’ll join you on those visits, Robbie. I haven’t seen some of those older folk for months.”

  That only left Brodie.

  “You’re welcome to come along,” Tiff said.

  She wanted a gooseberry, rather than being alone with Mac all afternoon. Anything to stop her from fooling herself into thinking they really were dating, and Mac wanted to be with her.

  Brodie’s lips twisted. “I do like that ‘culture stuff.’ But I need to get back to work. My editor is waiting for my latest story, and I have two more murders to commit before my amateur detective can solve the mystery. I also doubt I could manage all the walking and standing about.”

  The smile he gave Mac seemed a little too sweet. “Are you sure you can manage it, dear brother? I’d hate to see you make your leg worse again. At least let me give you a lift to the Museum. It’s not too far out of my way.” His voice held the same saccharine note as his smile.

  Tiff looked from one to the other, sensing the undercurrents between them, but unable to decipher what was going on.

  Mac’s reply seemed to come through gritted teeth. “My leg is fine. And I can walk to the Museum and around the Old Town just fine, too, thank you.”

  Brodie gave a lopsided shrug. “Suit yourself. I’m sure Tiffany will enjoy trudging across The Meadows in the snow.”

  “I don’t mind walking. I have boots,” she offered, unsure if her answer would help or worsen things.

  Mac pushed his chair back from the table. “We need to go, if it starts at twelve.” He dropped a kiss on his mother’s head. “Give my regards to old Mrs Murray if you see her. I still remember her giving me those big boiled lollies in church to keep me quiet.”

  “I’m sure she still remembers you too. And she knows you only misbehaved to get sweeties, when you were good
as gold all the rest of the time.” Helen’s smile widened to include Tiff. “Enjoy your day, both of you. Dress warm, Tiffany. It’s colder here than L.A. If you need to borrow anything, just ask.”

  “I think I have what I need.” Tiff wasn’t going to say how much she’d spent at Pettett and Mayfields getting ready for this trip. She’d never convince anyone she wasn’t a shopaholic if she did. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”

  Out in the hallway, she sat on the bench to change her slippers for boots. Mac went up to his room, muttering, “I need to get my coat.”

  By the time he came down, looking deliciously male in a grey wool coat with a funnel collar, she’d layered up with her down coat, hat, gloves, scarf, and snow boots.

  Mac led the way, down the quiet residential street to a park which must be beautiful in summer, now stark with leafless trees and snow. But the blue sky and sunshine had people out walking their dogs, and kids playing in the snow, building snowmen and throwing snowballs.

  Something about the unaccustomed snow made her feel as reckless and childish as the children around them. She skipped in the snow, and even made a snow angel, but what she really wanted to do was make the biggest snowball she could.

  A good hit from a snowball or a handful of snow down his back would soon change Mac’s grumpy expression.

  On the other hand, she knew who’d come off the worst if she tried that. Starting a snow war wasn’t a good idea. Starting anything physical between them was an even worse idea. Just walking beside him stirred her senses enough. She already wanted to grab his hand and swing it as they walked, far more than was wise.

  Safer to concentrate on sightseeing instead. She looked around them.

  Straight ahead, spires showed above the bare trees, while to the right, a huge bare craggy hill rose above the buildings.

  Mac hadn’t bothered with any attempt at small talk, so she’d stayed silent too. But the odd misshapen lump intrigued her. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the hill.

  Mac actually smiled, and his craggy face approached handsome. The sight warmed her far more than it should.

  “It’s Arthur’s Seat,” he said. “An extinct volcano. I used to go rock climbing up there when I was at school.”

  “What, with ropes and everything? No thanks.” She shook her head and shuddered slightly. Just the thought of it chilled her. “Dangling off a cliff on the end of a rope isn’t my idea of fun. But I’ve read about Arthur’s Seat. It’s on my list of places to go. There’s a path, isn’t there, to walk to the top?”

  He nodded. “The easiest path is only about a half hour walk, not too hard, even in the snow. The view is worth the effort.”

  “Could we do it?” Then she remembered the pills she’d seen him taking last night, probably pain meds. “Scratch that. I can do it by myself or ask Fraser to go with me. I’m guessing you’ll need to rest your leg before the medical.”

  Mac’s head jerked up, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. His gaze became flint hard. “I’ll take you there. My leg is fine. I’m fine. People need to stop trying to wrap me in cotton wool like I’m some sort of cripple.”

  His tone was carefully controlled, but she sensed the anger behind it, and the echo of that sideswipe Brodie had made at him over breakfast.

  She swallowed her suspicion he was far from fine, and held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, if you say so, you’re fine.”

  No point making an issue over it, though sometimes Mac strained her determination to focus on the good in people to the limit.

  Lord, help him with whatever’s going on for him. And help me, seeing I agreed to all this.

  For the next few days, it seemed she had little choice but to spend time with Mac, between his family’s determination to push them together and his apparent determination that he didn’t have a problem with his leg.

  But no matter how attracted to him she felt, when they got back to London, she’d be making sure she volunteered for opposite sessions at the shelter.

  The less she saw of Colin Maclean after this trip was over, the better.

  Chapter 13

  Mac wondered who he’d been trying to kid, saying his leg was fine. He hadn’t fooled Brodie at breakfast, and he hadn’t done too good a job of fooling himself. Tiffany seemed to have taken him at his word and hadn’t mentioned his leg again, but he doubted he’d fooled her, either.

  Even though they arrived at the Museum starting point only ten minutes after the noon opening time, the line of people waiting their turn already looped three times around the entrance hall. It didn’t bother her. She cheerfully stood, chatting with strangers. She had a knack of putting people at ease, and her joyous enthusiasm would win over the most bad-tempered person.

  Proof - she’d won him over.

  The twenty minutes it took for them to reach the podium with the big colourful compass passed way faster than he expected. The day was set up as a mystery tour, with a spin of the wheel guiding where they went next.

  Tiff of course would say God guided things. He wasn’t so sure.

  She spun the compass arrow hard, smiling as she watched to see what number it landed on. He watched her expressive face, not the spinning wheel.

  As they walked away, she pointed out the map printed on the back of the postcard the museum guide had handed her. “Don’t tell me the way, let me see if I can find it.”

  He foresaw a long frustrated walk in circles, but instead, she led them unerringly to their destination. Her triumphant grin showed how proud she was to have proved herself.

  The performance had already started, but they quietly sneaked into the back of the main room between songs. The music made his chest ache with a longing for something he couldn’t name. If he’d been alone, he would have left, avoided whatever that discomfort was.

  But Tiffany stared at the musicians, eyes wide and dreamy, lips parted. She seemed entranced, as she listened to the drummer and harpist playing their haunting island songs of lost love. He couldn’t take that away from her.

  She loosed a long sigh when the performance ended. “That was beautiful.” She smiled up at him, so lovely he had to clench his hands into fists to stop himself reaching out to touch her softly blushing cheek.

  “Let’s get moving. We have a lot of venues to get around if you want to see all the events.” His voice sounded harsh and gruff.

  She straightened, and pursed her lips. “Sure.”

  The next spin of the wheel took them to the Arts Centre, for some lively folk singing full of political comment and off-colour jokes. He and Tiffany looked at each other, and didn’t need to speak to know they felt the same. They made a speedy getaway. He felt a lightness he hadn’t felt for years as she giggled while they spun the wheel again.

  Again, she map read them to the location on the card without wrong turns. Again, she almost crowed with pride. He smiled. She deserved it. Navigating in a strange town so well was a skill he never would have expected her to have.

  The tall thin church seemed wedged in between the surrounding buildings like an afterthought. As they waited on the narrow stone staircase leading up to the church, Tiffany looked around, excited as a child.

  “This is one of my favourite verses. I know it by heart. I don’t always succeed, but I try to live by it.” She read the Bible verse embroidered into a wall hanging in her low sweet voice. “Fix your thoughts on what is true and good and right. Think about things that are pure and lovely, and dwell on the fine, good things in others. Think about all you can praise God for and be glad about.”

  Right now, Tiffany was the most pure and lovely thing in his life. Her radiant smile made a mockery of his cynicism.

  His gut tightened. He wouldn’t say anything to hurt her or belittle her belief, but he’d seen too much that was far from good and far from right to share her simple faith. How had God allowed that little lad to die in the bomb blast? How had He allowed Mac to be born healthy and strong, and Bro to be born sick? Why didn’t He stop Gina getting
in that car? Why did He give Mac that sixth sense of danger, yet allow it to fail him when he needed it most?

  Unanswerable questions, and ones he usually avoided, though he realized now he’d been asking them for a long time. Even while he’d been going through the motions of praying and going to church.

  Something about Tiffany stirred up unfamiliar thoughts and feelings he wasn’t sure he wanted.

  Her sunny expression changed, clouded a little. He’d said nothing, but he must have given a hint away of what he’d been thinking.

  “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m actually living a faith-filled life, or if it’s just that I’ve never really been challenged.” Her voice was small and quiet, and a little troubled.

  He shivered at the thought that his doubts had infected Tiffany, like a virus. The innocent optimism that had irritated him when they first met now charmed him, and it bothered him that she might lose it because of his cynicism.

  Before he could reply, a whispering attendant called them into the church, putting a finger to her lips to warn them to be quiet.

  Hundreds of candles in the centre of the room lit the towering space, throwing flickering shadows. A group of musicians formed a circle around the glowing flames.

  The gentle repetitive notes they played seemed odd at first. Given the choice, he would have moved straight on to the next event, but Tiffany found chairs and sat. Unless he left her, he had to sit and listen, too.

  Getting off his aching leg for a while made sense. He’d been walking or standing for hours now, ever since they left home. The painkillers in his pocket had started to sing their siren song. Thankfully, the music filling the church began to have a calming, hypnotic, spiritual effect. Almost a lullaby. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him.

  A prayer rose in his heart, surprising him, a prayer that Tiffany’s sweet, uncomplicated faith would never be shaken. And more, that he could share it.

  For some people, faith seemed to bring comfort and peace. To him, thoughts of faith only brought more questions. But something in him longed for that sense of being at home in God that had always eluded him, but Tiffany seemed to have.