Page 33 of Sweet Deal
Her mother’s voice boomed through the speaker system set up. “I’d like to propose a toast.” Champagne glasses were raised. “To Rachel and Jim. What took you so long?” The crowd roared with laughter, forcing Alice to raise her hand to quiet everyone. “Seriously. May your life together be filled with as much love and laughter as you’ve brought to ours.”
Glasses clinked and Aunt Vicki, acting as photographer, insisted they link elbows in a traditional sipping photo. Rachel met Jim’s gaze. It all felt so real.
On his feet, Jim’s dad also raised his glass and the crowd fell silent. “Like Alice and Charlie, your mother and I always thought you and Rachel were meant to be. Honestly,” he turned and winked at his wife, “I’m surprised your mother didn’t drag a preacher to the ranch with your suitcases, just to make sure no one changed their minds.”
The crowd chuckled in varying ranges of amused laughter.
“Too many years of love and happiness.” Mr. Henderson’s eyes sparkled as he drank to his son and new bride. Just like a real wedding. Rachel didn’t want to think ahead to a year from now.
Next, her aunt ushered them over to the cake—a simple single tiered creation with the same topper that had been on Jim’s parents’ cake. Jim’s hand felt warm over hers as they made the first cut, the scent of vanilla and buttercream filling the air. Each breaking off a small piece, she was first to hold the morsel to his lips. The crowd once again erupting with laughter as she accidentally nipped the tip of his nose with a dollop of icing. The chuckle rumbling low in Jim’s throat brought a smile to her face.
He swallowed and lifted his piece to her lips. Leaning in, he whispered, “Relax,” kissed the tip of her nose, placed the morsel in her mouth. As she closed her lips to swallow, he leaned in impossibly closer and tenderly kissed her. For something just for show, everything felt incredibly real.
Another hour of chatting, visiting, posing for more photos for her aunt and their moms to gather plates. Instinctively, Rachel rose to help.
“Oh no you don’t, young lady,” Alice gently but firmly shooed her back towards Jim. Jim’s mom echoed the sentiment from across the table. “You are not cleaning up after your own reception.”
“Besides,” her mother glanced over at her sister Liz and gave her a thumbs up, “it’s about time you said your goodnights and go make your own music.”
A blush crept up Rachel’s neck at the not-so-subtle implication.
Jim stood, his hand finding hers, his thumb brushing over her new ring. His gaze met hers and she knew what he was thinking, no postponing the inevitable.
Before she could turn, chairs were kicking back, guests were scurrying about, and within moments, everyone was lined up on either side of the walkway to the house, creating an archway of sparklers for them to walk under. Hurrying past everyone, they scurried up the steps and into the house. She didn’t dare look back or she might fall completely apart.
The screen door banged shut behind them, the sudden quiet of the house a stark contrast to the boisterous well wishes still echoing from the yard.
Still holding her hand, Jim glanced over his shoulder. “I may be wrong, but I have a feeling that the party isn’t going to end any time soon.”
She glanced out the window and smiled. “I have a feeling you’re absolutely correct.”
They stood for another few moments in awkward silence. “I suppose we should head upstairs. It wouldn’t look right if anyone came into the house for something and found the two of us watching the party like a couple of kids with their noses pressed against the candy store window.”
“No.” She didn’t let go but inched back half a step. “I don’t suppose it would.”
Falling into step beside each other, they made their way upstairs, their steps slowing as they reached the master bedroom door, Jim tugging her to a stop.
“Is something wrong?” Eyes filled with confusion stared up at him.
“No. Just a little tradition.” Ignoring his still pained ribs, he bent and scooped her into his arms before she could react.
“Jim Henderson, what in the world do you think you’re doing?” she giggled, her arms instinctively going around his neck.
“Carrying my bride over the threshold, of course.” He took the first step. “Even asort ofbride deserves that much, don’t you think?”
The laughter had faded from her eyes, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. He could feel the gentle thud of her heart against his chest.
“You can put me down now.”
“Oh. Right.” Releasing her slowly, as much to protect his sore ribs as to feel her closeness just a moment longer, he carefully inched back before he did something really stupid. Like take her in his arms and kiss her not for show, but the way she deserved to be kissed. The way he’d been dying to kiss her since they’d made that foolish deal that wasn’t much of a joke to him.
“So,” Rachel finally spoke, her voice a little breathy as she smoothed down her dress, her gaze fixed on the large bed.
“So,” Jim echoed, suddenly acutely aware of the silence stretching between them. He glanced around the room—their room now—taking in the small touches that had appeared since he’d left earlier in the day. Someone had scattered rose petals across the comforter. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket on the dresser, two glasses beside it.
“I think we’re being set up,” Rachel laughed nervously, gesturing toward the romantic additions.
“Your family doesn’t do anything halfway, do they?” Jim smiled, hopefully easing some of the tension.
