She thought he was perhaps heading toward the Blue Moon Grill, the town’s fanciest restaurant. But he passed the pull-in and continued, turning instead onto a road that led to the small town of Chatsworth. What in the world?
“You’ve really got me stumped now.” Allie shifted toward him. “Where on earth are we going?”
A smile played around his mouth. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Or you could just tell me . . .”
“That wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.”
Allie huffed. “But the suspense is killing me.”
“Patience, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”
Almost where? Only the endearment and, okay, the adoring look in his eyes kept her from pressing him. That look had earned him more than compliance over the past several months.
He slowed the car and turned into a parking lot.
Allie frowned. “This is my school.”
“Indeed it is.”
“We’re . . . eating at the school?” The parking lot lights were already beating back the encroaching darkness. As could be expected this time of night, there wasn’t a single vehicle in the lot. “I don’t understand.”
“You will shortly.” He pulled the car into a slot and shut off the engine.
“But what are we doing here?”
Luke said nothing as he exited the car and came around to help her out, an enigmatic smile on his face.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
He took her hand, placing a quick kiss on her lips. “For the love of Pete, you are the most impatient woman I’ve ever known. Come along.”
Allie followed him up the sidewalk. He headed not toward the elementary building where she worked but toward the high school, set off to the side.
The high school? “Does this have something to do with the play? But no one’s here. Opening night’s not until— Did Olivia—?”
“Hush, woman.” He spared her a smile, squeezing her hand.
When they reached the side door he pulled it open and ushered her inside, his eyes sparkling. The hallway was dim and filled with the familiar smells of old books, sweaty lockers, and lofty aspirations.
“This way.” Luke led her a short way down the hall and stopped at the gym doors. He pushed them open.
Allie stepped forward, and her breath froze in her lungs at the sight. White lights twinkled all around the darkened gym, and snowflakes of all sizes and shapes hung from above as if suspended in midflight. The floor glistened white, and dots of light seemed to be falling from the sky in some sort of snow effect. The gym had been transformed into a winter wonderland.
Allie pressed her hand to her chest. A lump formed in her throat, thickening until it cut off anything she might say. She looked at Luke, her eyes burning. She couldn’t believe he’d done this for her.
“I thought it was time I took you to your prom.”
“Luke,” she breathed.
He led her deeper into the room, and she took it all in. A soft ballad played from somewhere, and a single table, clothed in white and laden with food, sat in the middle of the room.
“I can’t believe you did this.”
“I should’ve taken you the first time. I’m sorry I didn’t.” He produced a corsage he must’ve hidden behind his back.
She laughed, holding out her hand, and he slid the spray of pink sweetheart roses onto her wrist. “You’ve thought of everything.”
He kissed her hand, his expression growing intense. “I’ve thought of nothing but you for the past six months, Allie.”
She fell into his soulful eyes. What this man did to her. “Oh, Luke. It’s been the best six months of my life.”
He gave her a long look, as if assessing something. Then his mouth relaxed in a smile, as if he’d made up his mind. “I was going to do this after we’d eaten, but I can’t wait.”
He reached into his pocket, then dropped down to one knee, holding out a sparkling diamond ring.
She pressed a hand to her trembling lips as her breath flooded from her lungs.
“Allie Adams . . .” Luke’s eyes pierced hers, saying so much. “More than anyone ever has, you see me for who I am, and you love me anyway. I’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, taking road trips, getting lost together—and finding each other over and over again. I love you so much, Allie. You’re my home. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, Luke. Of course I will. Yes!”
He beamed at her as he slipped the ring onto her finger. It was beautiful—a substantial solitaire with a band that curled and twisted in a whimsical way. It was so her.
Luke gathered her close and took her mouth in a kiss that matched the joy in her heart. Allie held him close, returning his affection with equal fervor. This was the man she’d held out for. The one who’d claimed her heart so long ago. And now he was hers again. Hers forever.
When he drew away their breaths were labored. A slow melody played in the background. Allie recognized it as the song they’d danced to at her grandparents’ anniversary party, when Luke had first professed his love.
Luke wore a knowing look, and a smile dawned on his face. “Could I have this dance?”
Allie smiled up at him. “For the rest of my life.”
And when he took her in his arms, Allie knew it was true. She’d fallen in love with the boy next door—and he’d fallen right back in love with her.
Dedication
To Christine Berg,
Dreamer, Believer, Talented Artist, and Whimsical Friend
with the Happiest Christmas Tree Farm
in the World Worth Writing About.
Chapter 1
Theo
Three weeks into dating, and already odds he’d marry this woman were approaching 45 percent.
It was a spontaneous though not unexpected thought, flickering in and out as quickly as the votive between them. After all, here he sat: Theodore Watkins III, bachelor of thirty-five years, financial adviser who lived by facts and figures. He was well aware of the statistical odds of discovering an eligible woman within ten or so years of his own age in Abingdon, Virginia, town of eight thousand. Aware even more, as he looked into the blazing blue eyes of one of the most beautiful women he’d ever encountered, of the slim chance of stumbling upon one so poised and intelligent. Compatible. Charming.
Absolutely perfect.
Although, yes, the last time he walked into her home he’d discovered an unnerving number of framed photographs of her previous boyfriend lining the hallway. One was so candid of the man walking to his car, sunglasses on, you could almost, almost wonder if she’d snapped it from across the street. And sure, judging the bizarre shift in neckline from blue to green in that framed snapshot at the end of the hall, you could almost, almost be led to believe she’d photoshopped him into the family Christmas photo, Santa hat and all.
But what was photoshopping a person into a photo besides a noble desire for inclusion? And what was snapping a photo in broad daylight without the subject’s knowledge but one mere step beyond affection? Skew it a bit one way and it might require a restraining order, sure, but skew it the other and she was the world’s best girlfriend.