Snow Angels. Fern Michaels
alone, but for escaping also. Their divorce had been final for almost eight months.
“It’s time, Grace. I think this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened, don’t you?”
“It is, it really is. I thought I’d never get married, and look at me now.” She hugged her dear friend.
“We better go before all the lifts are taken,” Stephanie teased, knowing Max had reserved a lift for the wedding party and the guests.
“Let’s go.” Grace grabbed her twenty-pound ski boots, her poles, and her hat and gloves. Her new “Maxie skis” were stored at the lift.
Outside, the sun shone brightly. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The temperature was in the low twenties, but Grace didn’t mind the cold. She was about to marry the sexiest man alive.
He waited for her at the top of Gracie’s Way, a new trail named in her honor.
Max, Bryce, and her mother were all gathered at the top of the mountain when Grace and Stephanie jumped off the lift. She adjusted her sunglasses and skied across a small patch of ice to get to Max.
They opted for a simple ceremony, or as simple as one got considering they were going to take their vows at the top of the mountain, then ski to the bottom for the pronouncement that would unite them as husband and wife. A friend of Eddie’s, who was also a justice of the peace, had agreed to marry them.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Max asked as he bent down to kiss her.
“Get married? Are you kidding? I can’t wait,” Grace assured him.
“I meant are you sure you want to get married on the slopes?”
“I’m not a practical person, Max. You should know that by now. Frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, let’s get this show on the slopes.”
“Grace, I love you,” Max whispered in her ear.
“I know you do, darling. The feeling is mutual.” Grace slid around to face the justice of the peace. Stephanie stood to her right, and Eddie, the best man, stood to Max’s left. Bryce and her mother stayed with Amanda and Ashley. Max had arranged for the lift to take Juanita back down the mountain.
Everything was perfect, Grace thought as she cleared her throat. Nothing in her life had ever been as perfect as this moment on top of a cold, snowy mountain with the sun shining down on her.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here on this mountain to unite Max Jorgenson and Grace Landry in holy matrimony.”
After reciting the traditional wedding vows, with Grace and Max saying their “I do”s, the justice of the peace stepped aside and tucked his small black book inside his ski jacket before spinning around and directing his ski tips downhill toward the bottom of the mountain. “As planned, I will unite the couple in holy matrimony at the bottom of the mountain.” Max used his poles to position himself by Grace, and once there was a reasonable distance between them, he looked at her. “Are you ready?”
Her grin was so broad it hurt. “I don’t think I can wait another minute,” Grace said, before shoving off. “I’ll meet you at the bottom.”
Bryce, Stephanie, and her girls followed behind.
With the wind at their backs, they curved and zigzagged down the mountain in near-record time. When they reached the bottom, there was a crowd gathering. “Do you know these people?” Grace whispered to Max.
“No, but apparently they know us. Look.” Max pointed to several in the group who were holding signs that read CONGRATULATIONS MAX AND GRACE!!!
The justice of the peace cleared his throat. “By the powder, uh, I mean power vested in me by the good state of Colorado and by the fans cheering behind us, I now pronounce you man and wife. You can kiss her now, Max.”
Max dropped his poles and turned to his wife, who had dropped her poles, too. Together, they slid to the ground, embracing one another. When his lips touched hers, Grace was sure the world actually tilted. His kiss was deep and passionate. Her senses were alive and tingling.
“Max?” she mumbled while they were kissing.
“Hmm?”
“The snow is going to melt if we don’t stop!”
“I’m that hot?”
“Yes, Mr. Jorgenson, you are that hot. Now help your wife up, or I might break something. And if I break something, that means we’ll have to cancel our honeymoon, and I really don’t want to because I’ve never been to Hawaii, or Ireland, or Spain.”
“If you put it that way, I don’t have a choice, now do I, Mrs. Jorgenson?”
“Say it again, Max.”
“What?”
“Call me Mrs. Jorgenson.”
“Mrs. Jorgenson, you’re going to be so sick of hearing me call you that for the next two months, you just might resort to using your maiden name.”
“Never, Max. Never in a million years,” Grace said, as he lifted her into his arms.
“Mrs. Jorgenson?”
“Yes, Mr. Jorgenson?”
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you all day, and now seems as good a time as any.”
“What would that be?”
“Merry Christmas, Grace. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Max. I think I’m about the happiest woman alive right now.”
“I love you, Grace. Always and forever.”
“Oh Max, I love you, too!”
“Hey, did we order a wedding cake?”
Grace looked at Max, the love of her life and now her husband. Her life was so very rich at that moment, she wanted to burn it into her memory.
Forever and always.
The Presents of Angels
MARIE BOSTWICK
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