of the rest.”
Of all her friends in Royal, Lark Taylor was the closest. They’d met during the first few weeks of the cleanup efforts and became fast friends. She was a nurse in the intensive care unit at the hospital. They often took coffee breaks together, and sometimes went out for drinks after work. She was planning her own wedding to Keaton Holt, a longtime Cattleman’s Club member, so perhaps she could give Julie a few pointers.
“We’ll have to kiss,” she heard Luc say, and it took her brain a second to catch up with her ears.
“Kiss?”
“During the ceremony,” he said.
“Oh...right.” She hadn’t considered that. She thought about kissing Luc and a peculiar little shiver cascaded down the length of her spine. Back when she first met him, she used to think about the two of them doing a lot more than just kissing, but he had been too hung up on Amelia and their recently broken engagement to even think about another woman. So hung up that he left his life in Royal behind and traveled halfway around the world with Doctors Without Borders.
A recent dumpee herself, she’d been just as confused and vulnerable at the time, and she knew there was nothing worse for the ego than a rebound relationship. They were, and always would be, better off as friends. In her experience, it was usually one or the other. Mixing sex and friendship would only end in disaster.
“Is that a problem?” Luc asked.
She blinked. “Problem?”
“Us kissing. You got an odd look on your face.”
Had she? “It’s no problem at all,” she assured him, but if that was true, why did her stomach bottom out when she imagined his lips on hers. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed by anyone. Maybe too long.
“We’ll have to start acting like a married couple,” he said.
“In what way?”
“You’ll have to move in with me.”
She hadn’t really considered that, but of course a married couple would live together. Having separate residences would raise a very bright red flag. Since Julie left home, when she wasn’t volunteering abroad, she’d lived alone. She liked the freedom of answering to no one but herself, of doing what she wanted to do, when she wanted to do it. That would be hard to give up.
As if Luc read her mind, he added, “Nothing in our relationship is going to change. We only have to make it look as if it has.”
But by pretending that it changed, by making it look that way to everyone else, wasn’t that in itself a change?
Ugh. She never realized how complicated this could be. She could already feel the walls closing in on her.
“Look,” he said, and this time he was the one frowning. “If any of this makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to do it. I want you to stay in the US, and I’ll do whatever I can to help make that happen, but if it’s going to cause a rift in our friendship, maybe it’s not worth it.”
“I’m just used to living on my own. The idea of changing that is a little intimidating. But it is worth it. And I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful. I am.”
“I know you are.” He smiled and laid a hand on her forearm, and the feel of his skin against hers gave her that little shiver again. What the heck was going on? She never used to shiver like that when he touched her. She was sure it was due only to the stress of her situation.
What else could it possibly be?
* * *
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Julie looked up at Lark, her maid of honor, in the dressing room mirror at the Cattleman’s Club. Julie was on her third attempt of giving herself “smoky eyes.” But she looked more like a cheap street walker than a bride.
“When it comes to eyeliner and shadow, especially for someone as naturally pretty as you, I think less is more,” Lark said, which was her kind way of telling Julie to give it up.
“Oh my God, what a mess,” Julie said, swiping at her eyes with a damp cloth. It had looked pretty simple in the instructional video she’d found online, but her technique lacked a certain...finesse. Which is why she never wore the stuff.
Her father had lived by very traditional values and as teens, Julie and her sister had been forbidden to use makeup of any kind. Or wear pants. Dresses and skirts were the only acceptable attire for a female in her father’s home, and Julie had played the role of obedient daughter very well. It was easier not to make waves. She concentrated on her studies and getting into a good college. She never did develop the desire to wear makeup, but after eighteen years of wearing only skirts and dresses, she swore she would never wear anything but pants. Yet here she was now in a newly purchased, off-white, silk shift dress, which she had to admit hung nicely on her athletic frame. But with her raccoon eyes Luc was going to take one look at her and run in the opposite direction.
Her sister, the queen of all things girly and impractical, would have been a big help right about now but she wasn’t answering calls or texts. If it was anyone but Jennifer, Julie might have worried, but that was typical for her sister. She was either completely distant and unreliable, or smothering Julie with her sisterly love. There was no middle ground.
“I suck at this,” she said.
“Maybe just a little mascara and liner,” Lark suggested, with a sympathetic smile. “Would you like me to help?”
Julie looked up at her with pleading, raccoon eyes. “Yes, please.”
Lark worked her magic and she was right. Julie was lucky to have been blessed with smooth, clear skin, and just a touch of liner and mascara and a little clear gloss on her lips subtly enhanced her features.
“You’re a genius,” she told Lark.
“And you look beautiful,” Lark said, smiling and stepping back to admire her work. “Lucas is a lucky man. And forgive me for saying, but it’s about darned time you two tied the knot.”
Julie had heard that same remark from a dozen people since she and Luc made the announcement earlier that week. “It doesn’t seem...sudden?”
“I always suspected you and Luc had something going—I think everyone has—but you’re a very private person, so I didn’t want to ask. I figured that if you wanted me to know, or needed to talk about it, you would tell me.”
If there had been anything to tell, Julie probably would have.
There was a rap on the dressing room door and Lark’s sister Skye stepped into the dressing room. She looked surprisingly healthy for someone still recovering from a near-fatal car crash during the tornado. Luc had performed an emergency cesarean to save her unborn child, and her injuries had been so severe she’d been in a coma for four months. Until Skye was well enough to care for her daughter, Lark had taken responsibility for Baby Grace, who was the sweetest most adorable infant Julie had ever seen.
“It’s time,” Skye said, then sighed wistfully. “You look beautiful. Luc is a lucky guy.”
Julie took a good look at herself in the mirror, spinning in a circle
