THAT CRISP JANUARY night Mackenzie Walker couldn’t help but notice the beauty of the bride and the handsomeness of the groom. All the family and friends at the reception glowed, too, reveling in the couple’s obvious happiness.
The whole lot of them was giddy with gladness, with just one exception.
The maid of honor—Mac herself—was miserable.
Not that she’d allow anyone to guess that. Instead, she smiled and laughed and responded gaily to every question thrown her way.
Wasn’t her new sister-in-law’s gown lovely? Of course it was, Mac agreed. Who would deny it? The ivory-colored dress clung to Angelica’s figure, her golden skin showing through spangled chiffon sleeves that began just off the shoulder and ended at her wrists.
Didn’t Brett Walker appear just as comfortable in his charcoal suit and silvery-gray tie as he did in his usual uniform of jeans and work boots? No doubt, Mac responded. Her big brother rocked the formal wear.
And what a bridesmaid dress! one of Mac’s cousins exclaimed. Everybody knew those could be dreadful. Hers was not, Mac had to concur. The pale blue was the color of her eyes and it had a flattering, sweetheart neckline with sheer sleeves dotted with crystals just like the bride’s.
Yes, her attire was lovely. That wasn’t the source of Mac’s low mood.
On that thought, she made her way to the bar at Mr. Frank’s, an old-fashioned restaurant and bar with red vinyl booths and dark paneling in the village of Blue Arrow Lake. The lake itself was private and the surrounding lavish homes beyond pricey, because Southern Californians could find stupendous mountain scenery and four real seasons just a couple of hours away from urban centers and sand and surf.
This was a vacation spot for them, but locals lived—much more modestly, of course—in the area, too. Mac’s family, the Walkers, had been here for over one hundred and fifty years, part of the first wave of pioneers who labored up the mountain with their oxen for lumber opportunities and stayed because they fell in love with the land.
She slid onto a bar stool and sketched a wave at the bartender. “Hey, Jim.” His white shirt was starched and his red vest well pressed. “Looking good.”
He beamed, his fiftysomething face lighting up. “Nothing but the best for your brother and his bride. We were only too happy to close the place for the reception.”
Though Brett and Angelica had actually run off to Vegas and done the deed in October, they’d decided to celebrate the tying of the knot with all the trimmings once the holidays had passed. It had been a bit of trouble getting the dresses in a timely fashion, but the rest had fallen into place.
“What can I get you?” Jim asked.
“Um...”
While she pondered, his gaze wandered over her shoulder. “They sure are a picture.”
Mac glanced back and took in the sight of the bride and groom surrounded by the rest of the bridal party: her two sisters, their fiancés and five-year-old Mason, Mac’s nephew, who had also stood up with the groom. When her stomach tightened, she told herself it was wrong of her to let her own feelings darken even a moment of these happy hours.
“You’re the last single Walker now, eh?”
Except there was that unavoidable truth. Of her four siblings, Mac alone was single.
Single. Alone.
Suppressing a sigh, she decided on her order. “A tequila shot, please.”
Jim didn’t remark on the out-of-character request, though Mac rarely took her spirits straight. Instead, he plunked down a napkin and then a shot glass filled to the brim with a golden liquid. “Top shelf for you,” he said.
Because he was sorry for her, just as she feared everybody she knew was sorry for her, just as she was a little bit sorry for herself.
Single. Alone.
She threw back the liquor, choked, coughed, then slammed the empty glass back on the bar. Heat coursed through her, hot enough, she hoped, to burn off the uncomfortable sense of being the odd woman out in her own family. Just months ago, the Walker siblings had been hardworking singletons. Now three of the four were still hardworking, yet exuberantly happy people paired off, leaving Mac the odd wheel.
Honestly, that wouldn’t be so bad if—
“There you are!”
She slid her gaze to the side, taking in her date for the evening, Kent Valdez. “I’ll have what she just gulped down,” he said to Jim.
Mac showed the bartender two fingers, indicating another tequila shot was in order for herself. “Having fun, Kent?” she asked, forcing herself to sound pleasant. Not that there was anything wrong with the man or anything wrong with the obvious good time he’d been having. But she’d invited him to be her date and he’d been whooping it up with the other guests instead of hanging at her elbow, doing his part to assure everyone that Mac had a full and very satisfying romantic life.
Because the other downer she’d been dealing with lately was the astonishing and irritating revelation that her entire community still believed her to be hung up on her first love.
Who had left her and the mountains ten years before.
In order to correct that group delusion, she’d hit upon the scheme to attend each of the Walker matrimonial events—all happening in the next few weeks—with a different eligible bachelor.
She’d show everyone in the vicinity of Blue Arrow Lake that the last single Walker standing was happy and heart-whole.
The recollection of that goal plus the burn of the second tequila shot got her off the bar stool. Tugging on Kent’s hand, she towed him toward the dance floor, just as a line dance was forming. Thrusting both arms in the air, she let out a loud “Woo-hoo!” and took her place beside Angelica, who shared a grin. Then the bride stuck out her tongue at the groom, who stood on the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest and a smug half smile curving his mouth, his gaze never leaving his beautiful new wife. She laughed and blew him a kiss that he pretended to catch. Then Brett clapped his hand to his heart.
Mac froze, stricken by the romantic gesture coming from her usually reserved