Free If the Stick Turns Pink... by Carla Cassidy

accustomed to receiving from Bailey, a light sweet peck on the lips.
    â€œI can’t believe we did this,” he said a few minutes later when they were in his truck and headed toward the community center. He pulled at his tie, as if it was in the process of slowly strangulating him. “By the way, you don’t look bad in a wedding dress.”
    â€œThanks, and you aren’t totally ugly in a tux,” she replied, returning his backhanded compliment.
    He flashed her a quick grin as he pulled into the already crowded parking area of the community center. He found a parking place, pulled in, then cut the engine and turned to her. “Well, we did it.”
    â€œWe did half of it,” she replied and to her surprise felt the warmth of a blush stealing over her cheeks. “I have now officially saved you from the claws of the crown-crazed single women of Foxrun. Now all you have to do is fulfill your end of our bargain.”
    â€œYou want me to do that right here? Right now? I’ll try, but I have a feeling the stick shift might get in the way.”
    Although he was teasing her, she saw an edge oftension in his eyes, felt it radiating from him. Or was she feeling her own edge of tension about the night to come?
    â€œI think before we do anything rash, we should probably go inside and enjoy the reception your mother and mine spent hours pulling together.”
    â€œYou’re right.” He pocketed his keys and opened his door. “Time to go in and pretend to be the happily-in-love-forever couple.”
    It was all a game of pretend, Melanie reminded herself as she and Bailey walked toward the community center. He held her hand, his fingers strong and warm wrapped around hers.
    There was a crowd of well-wishers standing just outside the door, and Melanie and Bailey’s appearance was greeted with cheers as bird seed rained down on their heads.
    Laughing, they raced toward the door and entered the community center, which had been transformed by their mothers into a ribbon-and-crepe-paper wonderland.
    A lace-covered table at the front of the large room held a fountain spewing champagne and a three-tier wedding cake.
    The band members were tuning instruments on the small bandstand in one corner, and the long banquet tables were filled with friends and neighbors and acquaintances.
    Melanie lost Bailey as she was engulfed in dozens of hugs. She was passed like a football from arms toarms, hugged and kissed and congratulated until the faces began to blur in her mind.
    She caught a glimpse of Bailey, being slapped on the back and kissed on the cheek by well-wishers. He had the same dazed look on his face that she knew covered her own, as well.
    Her mother rescued them, grabbing first Melanie by the arm, then Bailey and leading them to a table with a beautiful centerpiece. “You two sit here,” she instructed. “In just a little while the band is going to play the first dance just for the two of you.”
    They both sat. “I feel like I’ve just been mauled by a wild pack of rabid dogs,” Bailey said as he straightened his tie.
    Melanie laughed. “They all mean well.” She frowned as she saw a familiar old man making tracks toward them, a glass of champagne in each hand. “Uh-oh, here comes my uncle Jack,” she warned Bailey.
    Jack Watters, while one of Melanie’s favorite relatives, was also more than a little bit outspoken and eccentric. He plopped the glasses of champagne on the table before them. “Drink up,” he exclaimed. “You’re several glasses behind everyone else in the room.”
    â€œThanks, Jack,” Bailey said and took a sip of the bubbly.
    Jack clapped Bailey on the back. “If it was a hundred years ago, we wouldn’t be sitting here at this reception. We’d be throwing a jamboree, beating potsand pans outside your window while the two of you consummated your marriage. But this being the century that