She winks at me as I leave.
I’m free.
I grab Logan’s hand without thinking and practically run toward his bike. When I recover enough to realize what I’m doing, I drop his hand cold, not looking at him as I do so.
He tosses me his helmet. “I don’t have the spare with me. I had to make a quick getaway.” He lightly touches my dress. “You look…”
“Hot?” I joke.
“Steaming.” He kisses my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
He reaches out and brushes a stray hair off my face, and those familiar goose bumps rise up on my arms.
“I can’t wear this.” I hand him back his helmet. “It will ruin my hair. You know how untamed my waves are to begin with.”
He locks his gaze with mine. “Untamed’s not a bad thing, Mace.”
My palms start to sweat. “No. Not bad.”
But I’m feeling bad right now. In the best way possible. I clench my fists to resist my nearly uncontrollable urge to pull Logan’s head down to mine and kiss him senseless.
He insists on me wearing the helmet, and I wrest my eyes away from his and climb onto his bike. I manage to tuck the skirt part of my dress up around my knees so I’m still covered in all the important areas.
My arms go around Logan’s waist. “All set.”
Once he starts the engine, I lean my head against his shoulder and hold him close to me. We reach the gazebo in less than five minutes, and I force my arms to let him go.
* * *
The fireworks are about to start, and it’s still blistering hot.
I glance over at Ginny sitting next to me in her chair. Her dress is too long and too fancy for her to sit on the ground on a blanket like I am. Sweat forms on her brow as she uses my knitting needles and yarn to cast on. She’s concentrating so hard on what she’s doing it’s like nothing else can get her attention. I guess my last-minute idea to bring along knitting materials to calm her nerves may be working too well.
“I think it’s time to stop.” I try to take the needles from her.
She stubbornly refuses to let go and continues to work on knitting her third row.
Logan, Blake, and Dave walk over just as I’m wrenching the needles and yarn out of Ginny’s hand.
“You must let go!” I say sternly.
As I pull, one of the needles slips out of my hand, and the force somehow carries it toward Logan. It stabs him in the neck.
“Jesus!” he says.
“I’m so sorry. Oh, dear.”
We all laugh, even Ginny, for the first time all evening.
“Who knew knitting would be the deadly art?” Logan says as he, Blake, and Dave sit with us. “So, Mace, who are we walking down the aisle with, anyway? Are you with Flip?”
“Of course she is,” Ginny says. “Dave’s brother is his best man, and Macey’s my maiden of honor.”
“And I’m with your cousin, Gin?” Logan says. “The one with the super-large ears?”
“That would be Erma,” I say as Logan and Dave laugh.
Ginny and I admonish them and try not to smile. Erma’s ears are the largest I’ve ever seen. They’ve been that way since she was a kid. Mama used to pray she’d “grow into them one day,” but they seemed to keep growing right along with the rest of her.
