Ambrose put his arm around Barbara’s waist as they walked towards the front lobby area. “Hm? Where’s your wedding dress? We aren’t leaving it behind, are we?”
She smiled at him. “No, I had Aunt Nora put it in the back of my car after I changed.”
He scratched his head with his free hand. “So…it’s just all rolled up back there?”
She giggled. “I’d love to say yes and boggle your mind.”
“Ha! You brat.”
She giggled again. “But fortunately I had a spare garment bag. I put my gown in there and Aunt Nora hauled it away.”
They stopped at the front door.
“You are a mysterious creature, Barbara Smith. Do you always travel with spare garment bags?”
She gave him a teasing look. “Only when I get married.”
“Ha!” He opened the door for her.
She walked through and quickly turned to face him. “Oh, by the way—” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I bet I’ll beat you to the car.” She tapped his arm. “Tag! You’re it!” She ran to the parking lot.
“Ha! Oh, no you don’t!” He ran after her.
Barbara let out a delighted shriek and ran faster. She darted around the other cars, leading Ambrose into twists, turns, and circles. “Nyeh-nyeh! You can’t get me!”
“Oh, we’ll see about that!”
She giggled and ran straight ahead to her car.
His footsteps sounded loud and fast behind her.
She pushed herself to run faster and faster.
The car was right there.
She tagged the back door with an exultant, “HA!” just as Ambrose tagged her.
He closed in behind her and murmured in her ear, “Tag. You’re it, love.”
She turned around and looked into his bright black eyes.
“So? Do I get my prize?”
“I tagged the car before you tagged me. So, nope! No prize for you.” She cupped his face in between her hands. “But—” She stroked his cheekbones with her thumbs. “I’ll tell you where I’m ticklish, anyway.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Don’t. I’d rather find out that answer on my own. Trial by error.”
She blushed. “And you always call me naughty.”
“Because you are.” He kissed her forehead. “And I absolutely love that about you. Barbara. My Barbara. My fire. My sweet. My iron. My delight.”
“My Ambrose. My husband.”
“Barbara. My wife.”
She slid her hands through his hair down to the back of his neck.
He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath.
“Ambrose, let’s go home.”
He exhaled. “Okay.” He opened his eyes. “I’ll let you drive.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”