Page 115 of Wag More Bark Less

His gaze lingered on me for several seconds, and I had to force myself to look at my cider cup so I wouldn’t stare after him like some lovesick puppy.

“You two are pathetically adorable. I hope you know that.”

I took a tentative sip to avoid responding. It tasted of warm apple pie mellowed by a kick of alcohol. “What’s in this?”

“Bourbon.” Alyssa smiled. “I got the good stuff because I have news to share.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve drafted a cease-and-desist letter I think you’ll find quite to your liking. It should keep Monster-in-Law in check. If she wants to keep bothering you for money you aren’t going to pay her, you’re going to sue for damages to the dress. Your seamstresses were all quite forthcoming in their evaluations. We’ll mop the floor with her if we have to.”

“But I”—I looked around, lowering my voice—“burned the dress.”

“You have pictures and video evidence of Luanne. That’s all we’ll need. And, Magnolia, I truly don’t think it’ll come to that. I’ve dealt with people like her a hundred times before. As soon as you threaten to lawyer up, they back right off. Especially when there’s a video of them trying on their ex-daughter-in-law’s dress.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, warmth spreading in my chest. It might be the bourbon, but I suspected it had a whole lot more to do with making my first true female friend who wasn’t my sister in thirty-four years.

“I know,” Alyssa said, helping herself to the second cup. “But I wanted to.”

I appreciated it more than I could put into words, which was just as well. Alyssa didn’t like sappy, emotional displays of gratitude. So instead, I asked, “Have you heard any more about Thoren?”

Alyssa tipped her cup up, emptying the contents. “He’s not coming home after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“He bought an RV. Apparently, he’s planning to live out of it while he travels around the country.” She shook her head. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t come back. Ever since his brother was killed, he’s hated this place. It’d take a tragedy for him to move home.” She let out a sigh, forcing a smile as a gaggle of people approached the front gate—judges, I assumed. “It’s time for me to move on.”

“You okay?”

“I will be,” she said. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If this thing with Luke is real, don’t let something stupid like distance ruin it.”

FORTY

MAGGIE

When I remembered Bluebell Springs years from now, I’d picture the strings of white twinkly lights hanging from the covered boardwalk, the golden leaves dusting the asphalt dance floor, and the full moon over the mountains. The mixture of crisp mountain air, caramel apples, and pine would always transport me back to this moment, swaying in Luke’s arms as the live band played a ballad about falling in love.

Half the town had gone home for the night, and the crowd in the roped-off area of Main Street was thinning now that the evening chill was in full effect.

But I wasn’t cold.

I had a stolen flannel coat and a six-foot-four heated blanket.

“I still can’t believe we won the cookoff,” I said to Luke as one song wound down and the band announced they’d play two final slow songs before wrapping their set with something more lively.

“I still can’t believe Mrs. Wilcox’s secret ingredient is unsalted peanuts. I should’ve known. Also, I hope you know you have a target on your back now,” Luke teased. “That woman was fit to be tied when they announced she won second place.”

I won’t be here to steal it from her next year. But I didn’t put that thought to words. Tonight, I refused to focus on the future I wouldn’t have in Bluebell Springs. I was living only in the moments we were guaranteed.

“A little humility never hurt anyone,” I said, chuckling and snuggling deeper against Luke’s warm, hard chest.

“Tell that to the Legion members,” Luke said.

“They’re just excited their float looks so good.”