The Mostly Real McCoy (Apple Valley Love Stories #1)

by Julie Christianson

I raise myself on tip toes, face tilted up as he lowers his chin. When we’re a breath apart, I let go of his hands to wrap my arms around his neck. His hands move to my waist, strong and sure. Pulling me close. My fingers tangle in his hair. I draw him to me. And then. His mouth brushes mine. I taste his lips and this is real. He is real. I am real.

I could keep her in my arms forever. Or until the kitchen door bangs open. Slam! Man. Adding doors to the house seemed like a good idea at the time.

Even though Lenore is talking to Brooke, I keep nodding at her. A lot. Like a bobble head amount. What is happening to me?

And my dad was in one of his usual suits.” “I hate to say it, but he is kind of hot for an old guy.” “Eww, Emi. Stop. I’m pretty sure something just broke inside me.”

Gosh, it’s hard to breathe with all this hope banging around.

Got Bruce Springsteen growling about “Glory Days.”

I make a small noise, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. While everyone stares at me, I close my eyes, wishing I could just disappear. Or that the ground would crack open and gobble me whole. But it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t.

The memory pulls the breath from my body. “I didn’t know the question meant anything. I thought we were pretending.” Mac nods. “That’s pretty much what I’ve been doing my whole life. Until I met you. Everything before that was just practice. But this is real now.”

The boy sure is smitten with you. He looks at you the exact same way Mr. Sprat used to look at me. With a spring in his step and stars in his eyes, as if I hung the very moon.” She

it’s a long story, but Mrs. Sprat reminded me that life is short and love is long, and you’re the one that I want.” I

I can’t speak so I just squeeze his hand. It’s big and warm. Strong and sure. The hand of a man who works hard and cares harder. The hand I want in mine for the rest of my life.

I’d rather stuff him in a pizza oven than be the maid of honor if he’s best man. But Brooke says she needs me at her wedding.

Blergh. I look across the restaurant to catch our waiter’s attention. If I’m going to survive this without killing Nash Hendrix, I’ll need another basket of rolls …