Marry Me at Christmas

Mayor Marsha glanced at Dellina, who scooted to the front of her chair and gave another smile.

“It’s me,” Dellina admitted, sounding a little rueful. “I’m totally scrambling. The Hendrix family is planning a huge party on New Year’s Eve, there are a dozen holiday events and three weddings, and I’m up to my eyebrows in invitations and details. I can’t take on one more thing.”

Madeline still wasn’t sure where this was all going. “If you need me to help with something, I’m happy to,” she said slowly. Of course she would be there for her friend. But why wouldn’t Dellina have come to her directly? They’d known each other all their lives. Why involve the mayor?

Dellina shifted slightly. “Yes, well, it’s more than my usual panicked call to come stuff goodie bags. It’s a wedding.”

Madeline looked between the two of them. “I don’t understand,” she admitted.

“There’s going to be a wedding the Saturday after Christmas,” the mayor said happily. “You know how I love a wedding. This will be a small affair. Right now the guest list is at forty. I suspect it will grow a little, but shouldn’t be more than fifty or fifty-five people. There’s no location issue—everything will be at the bride’s brother’s house. The catering is taken care of.”

“Ana Raquel is handling that,” Dellina added. “She had a cancellation and can fit in the wedding. So it’s just the basic details. Dress, invitations, decorations. I know it’s a lot to ask...” Her friend shook her head. “I’m sorry. We haven’t asked yet, have we?”

Mayor Marsha patted Dellina’s hand. “I’ll do the asking, dear. Madeline, your town needs you to plan a wedding. Are you up for it?”

“I don’t know,” Madeline admitted. “I’ve never done anything like that before. I work with brides and we talk details, but to take a wedding from start to finish, even a small one, would be challenging.”

Which was as close to saying no as she was going to get, she thought as the mayor continued to look at her with that steady, supportive You’ll do what I say because I have powers and you’ve never once refused me anything look that was both famous and inescapable.

“I have a master list and I’d be happy to help,” Dellina added. “I’m sorry to put you in this position.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mayor Marsha said firmly. “I’m to blame. When I spoke with Dellina earlier today and she said she wasn’t available, we brainstormed who we could ask. You’re the one we both thought of.”

Madeline got the subtext of the message. Dellina had been as trapped as she was now. When Mayor Marsha wanted something done, she was unstoppable. Which meant saying no wasn’t an option.

Planning a wedding in seven weeks, over the holidays, when she’d never done much more than be a bridesmaid and sell wedding dresses? Were they crazy?

“Sure,” she said easily. “I’m in.” She frowned as she realized she didn’t know anyone who had recently gotten engaged, or even who was planning a holiday wedding. “Oh, who’s getting married?”

“Ginger Blaze.”

The name meant nothing. “She’s not local. Is her fiancé...”

Madeline felt her heart stop. Physically stop. There had been steady beating, then nothing. That was followed by a distinct popping sound in her ears along with panic. Cold, slimy, I-can’t-breathe panic.

“Blaze,” she whispered. Quite the trick what with her heart stopped and her lungs not working. “Blaze as in Jonny Blaze?”

Mayor Marsha nodded. “Ginger is his younger sister. I believe she lives in San Francisco. She’s in a PhD program. Something with biology or genetics. Mr. Blaze wasn’t clear. However, he asked me to help him find someone to plan the wedding with him. That’s when I approached Dellina. You know the rest, my dear.”

Jonny Blaze? The tall, handsome action-movie star who had recently moved to a ranch outside of town? The man who had a body like a god and a smile that reduced perfectly intelligent, articulate women to puddles? Jonny Blaze, who was, unbeknownst to him, of course, her movie-star boyfriend?

No. She couldn’t. She had a mad crush on him. Every time she’d seen him in town, she’d stared like an idiot. She’d babbled and he hadn’t been closer than twenty-five feet. She couldn’t imagine being next to him, let alone working with him.

I can’t. There. She’d said it. Or at least thought it. Which was practically the same thing. She couldn’t.