His heart beat against her back.
Hers sent an urgent message to her brain. This is something special.
Mac didn’t dare disturb the magic created by the sensation of his exhalations stirring her hair. Breathing deep of his scent, she felt both bold and safe enough to lean into his strength, going so far as to wrap her fingers around his forearms covered in the fine wool of an expensive jacket.
Enjoy the moment.
She couldn’t recall the last time she’d done that. Walkers worked hard to keep their place on the mountain and she was no exception, doing everything from washing windows to sending out invoices as the proprietor of Maids by Mac. Housework wasn’t a glamorous career, but she’d never wanted anything more than to be her own woman.
Except when you longed to be Zan’s woman, a devil whispered in her head.
She kicked away the thought of Alexander Elliott. He didn’t belong in this sweet bubble of possibility. Closing her eyes again, she allowed herself to bask in the man’s scent and in the man’s heat and mused that maybe Mac Walker wasn’t destined to be single and alone, after all.
Lost in that, she missed the ending of the song until the loud shriek of the mic yanked her out of her reverie. The DJ began speaking and she dropped her hold on the stranger behind her. But just as she turned to look at him, her sister Shay’s stepdaughter-to-be, London, grabbed Mac’s hand and hauled her onto the dance floor.
“Wait!” Mac glanced around, trying to find her partner, but she was already surrounded by a bevy of other women. “What’s going on?”
“The bouquet toss, silly,” London said in an excited voice, having lost her usual teenage insouciance somewhere after the I do’s.
Mac groaned. The tradition was embarrassing and one she did her best to avoid. But London had begged Angelica to include the custom and the kid had Mac’s wrist in a viselike grip. She tried tugging free. “Why don’t I get Shay and Poppy out here,” she suggested, naming her two engaged sisters. Once away from the teenager, she’d actually go on the hunt for her sexy stranger.
“They already have rings on their fingers,” London said. “This is for us.”
“You’re too young to get married,” Mac replied. “And I’m too...”
Hung up on Zan Elliott, the devil murmured again.
Instead of shrieking in frustration, Mac gave up. The absurd ritual couldn’t take long, right? Then she’d find the stranger and do...what?
Throw herself at him?
Maybe, she decided, reliving the sensation of him surrounding her. Reliving that so unusual—for her—trust she’d felt leaning against his larger body.
The women around her were chattering and the DJ was making noises into the mic, but Mac ignored the sounds, her thoughts focused on that man. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention and she turned her head.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in complete surprise.
There, beyond the tight clutch of women, a figure stood in profile. A figure she hadn’t seen in ten years and who was more muscled than when he’d left, but one she’d recognize anywhere.
And one she should have known when he stepped up behind her to whisper in her ear.
Just enjoy the moment.
Heat rose from her chest and flamed up her throat to her face as she recalled how quickly she’d relaxed in his hold. What did he think of that? And why would he have...have ambushed her in that way at this important event?
As if sensing her regard, his head turned, too, and their gazes met. His mouth quirked, stopping somewhere between a smirk and a smile.
Her temper kindled. What gall! What gall to show up so suddenly and without even a word of warning.
Just as she made to break out of the female circle in order to challenge her unexpected and unwelcome blast from the past, something soft and fragrant struck the side of her face. Instinct had her putting up her hands as a cheer sounded throughout the room.
Mac looked down at what was now cradled in her arms, trying to come to terms with the fact that she’d caught the bridal bouquet—and that Zan Elliott was back in town.
* * *
THE FRAGRANCE OF roses and lavender wafted up from the flowers. She gulped in a breath of it, then peered over the women gathered around her in congratulation, once again seeking out Zan.
He’d moved from where he’d been moments before...if he’d really been there moments before. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air. Could it be possible she’d imagined him?
Angelica broke through the ring of celebrants and beamed at Mac. Really, she was breathtakingly beautiful with her shiny brunette hair and dark eyes. She and Brett were going to make beautiful babies, and proud Auntie Mac would dote on them from her comfortable spinsterhood, unless Zan—
“I’m so glad you caught the flowers!” Angelica said, leaning in to kiss Mac’s cheek. “I know you consider the tradition barbaric, but I thought it was fun.”
She pretended to scowl at her new sister-in-law. “How come there’s no garter toss if you find tradition so great?”
“That’s because your brother’s a caveman. He said he didn’t want me baring my legs for all the wedding guests to see.”
Speaking of wedding guests... Mac took a quick look around the room, then leaned in to whisper in her sister-in-law’s ear. “Have you seen Zan?”
Angelica pulled back, her eyes going wide. “Zan? Your Zan?”
“He’s not my Zan,” Mac said quickly. “But I...I thought I caught a glimpse of him a minute ago.” I thought I felt his arms around me. I thought maybe my heart would beat out of my chest as we swayed to the music. “Did he call Brett or something and say he was coming back to town?”
The bride shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
“But did you see—”
“I wouldn’t recognize him, right? We’ve never met.”
“Oh.” Mac felt another flush climb up her neck. The man—whoever he was—had her so flustered she wasn’t thinking clearly. “Never mind, then. I’ll just, uh, go put the bouquet down at my place at the table.”
Then she hurried off the dance floor, keeping a lookout for a dark-haired, hazel-eyed ten-year-gone guy. But when she didn’t see him, she began to wonder about her sanity. Perhaps the night before she’d stayed up too late boxing the chocolates that were going to the guests as party favors. Maybe she needed to gulp down a large cup of hot coffee and get her wits back in place.
“There you are!” Her sisters, Poppy and Shay, approached, their long skirts swishing about their legs. They wore gowns identical to Mac’s, only different in color. Poppy’s was pink, while Shay’s was a subtle peach.
“Nice catch,” Poppy said, nodding to the bouquet.
Mac rolled her eyes. “You saw what happened. It hit me in the head.”
“Maybe you’ll be better prepared when I throw mine at my reception in two weeks,” Shay said.
“No,” Mac groaned the word. “Not you, too?”
“London is insisting.”
“I’ll hide out in the bathroom, then,” Mac said. “Promise you’ll give me the high sign?”
“Absolutely,”