Marry Me at Christmas

He stepped on the treadmill and set the program. He chose one of the more challenging ones, hoping it would distract him. But seventeen minutes later, when he’d finished, he was panting, sweating and still thinking about Madeline.

As he returned to the house and headed for the shower, he thought about what Ginger had said. That he used his fame to hide. If it was true—he was actually afraid to be in a relationship rather than protecting the person he claimed to care about—then the solution was easy. He would just move forward and force himself to face his fears. Which sounded plenty easy but he suspected would be difficult to do.

Too many questions, he thought, stripping off his workout gear. The bottom line was he wanted to see Madeline and he only knew one way to make that happen.

Less than an hour later, he drove into town. The snow was heavier than it had been in the past few days. It piled up on the road. He’d spent enough time in the mountains that he was confident about his driving and his SUV’s ability to handle the weather. He turned onto Brian Lane and found parking, then got out and headed for Paper Moon.

When he stepped inside, he saw that Madeline was with a customer. The willowy brunette stood with her hands on her hips. Her posture was defiant, her chin jutted out. By contrast, Madeline’s shoulders were relaxed, but Jonny saw the tension in the edges of her polite smile.

“I can contact the designer,” she was saying. “But you did sign the order form and it clearly states that the veils aren’t returnable.”

“This isn’t what I ordered,” the brunette insisted, her voice boarding on shrill. “Why can’t you get that through your head?” She sighed heavily. “Everyone is so stupid. I don’t get that. It’s a simple thing. I want the veil I ordered.”

Madeline nodded. “Of course you do. And as you can see by the picture attached to the order, this is that veil. Down to the family coat of arms you requested be embroidered on the edges.”

The bride looked at the picture and then back at the veil draped across a narrow table. “They don’t look the same at all.”

Even he could see they were identical. He had no idea why the bridezilla was trying to get out of the order. She still wore an engagement ring, and from the paperwork scattered around, it seemed she’d bought a dress. His gaze drifted to the order for the veil. It had been eight thousand dollars. That was a lot for some lace and a few silk flowers. He supposed the custom coat of arms had something to do with it. Maybe the bride had been told to rein in the spending. He could respect that. But trying to screw Madeline over a veil she had no hope of selling to someone else was wrong.

He crossed to the two women.

“Sorry I’m late,” he told Madeline, even though they didn’t have an appointment. He smiled at the bride. “Hi. Am I interrupting? I’m Jonny Blaze.” He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ella,” the other woman said, her eyes widening. “Oh, my God. Did you say Jonny Blaze?”

He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “That would be me. Are you getting your dress here?”

Ella nodded. “I am.”

“Good choice. My sister is, too.” He winked at Madeline. “But that needs to be our secret, okay? We don’t want to have to deal with the press.”

“I won’t say anything,” Ella promised, still looking stunned. “I can’t believe you’re here. In this town. I live in Sacramento, but getting wedding dresses from Paper Moon is kind of a family tradition.”

“Nice,” he said, and picked up a couple of the pictures. “Your dress?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Beautiful.” He set them on the table, then nodded at the veil. “May I?”

“Sure.”

What he knew about wedding veils wouldn’t max out a tweet, but he was an actor and he’d worked on enough period movies to have spent time with costume designers. He knew how to fake his way through almost anything clothing related.

“Stunning,” he declared after studying the delicate lace. While it wasn’t anything he would have picked for his sister, he could appreciate the craftsmanship. “Handmade. You can tell it’s special.” He leaned in. “Are those crests on the edge of the lace?”

“The family coat of arms,” Madeline murmured.

He looked at Ella. “Smart girl. A unique detail no one else will have. You’ve taken a very traditional, almost ordinary accessory and personalized in a way that not only complements your dress, but gives you a link to both the past and present in your family. Your kids are going to love hearing about your veil.”