Every Bride Needs a Groom by Janice Thompson Page A

with tilted head and wrinkled brow.
    â€œWell, Katie Sue. Didn’t know you were coming over.”
    â€œNeither does Casey.” I giggled. “Just wanted to surprise him. Is he here?”
    â€œYes. He’s . . .” Her words drifted off. “Well, let me get him for you, honey. C’mon in.” She gestured for me to come inside. “You want a glass of sweet tea? There’s a fresh pitcher in the fridge. Help yourself.”
    â€œOh, yes ma’am.” I followed her down the front hallway of the house, taking in the country-chic décor. Some might consider it outdated, but I was enamored by the simple, rustic environment. Homey. That was the word. And nothing made a girl feel more at home than homey. The wood paneling in the living room put me in mind of the eighties, but even that brought comfort. Familiarity.
    I made myself at home in the kitchen until Casey joined me a couple minutes later. My honey walked into the room looking as handsome as ever. His dark hair was a bit moretousled than usual, and those gorgeous blue eyes flashed with intrigue when he saw me standing in the middle of his kitchen, swigging a giant glass of sweet tea. I couldn’t help but wonder about the basketball shorts and faded T-shirt, though. He usually wore jeans and button-ups around the house, even on the most casual day.
    I let out a whistle. “Hello, handsome. Love seeing you like this.”
    â€œThanks. Different, right?” The edges of his lips curled up in a smile. “And hello yourself. Didn’t know you were coming.”
    â€œExactly.” I snuggled into his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “That’s what makes it so fun. Thought I’d surprise you by stopping by. That okay?”
    â€œSure. But you look like you have something on your mind.”
    â€œO-oh?”
    â€œYep. I’d know that look anywhere.” He gave me an inquisitive look. “Is your mama trying to get you to talk me into singing that bass solo next Sunday morning? I tried to tell her it’s out of my range.”
    â€œNope. She never said a word about it.”
    Casey looked half relieved, half perplexed. “Ah. So, is it your dad?”
    â€œOh no. Not that. I—”
    â€œDoes he need me to come and move that shelf unit to the back of the store? I’ve been promising to do that for weeks now but haven’t had time.”
    â€œNothing like that.” I tried to figure out where to start this delicate conversation. “I, um, just have a lot on my mind today. I just wanted to ask you—”
    â€œSomething big going on at the store? Or is Queenie still upset with the Methodists?”
    â€œPresbyterians. But I really came by to—”
    â€œShe’s mad at the Presbyterians too?” he asked. “Wonder how she feels about the Lutherans. And the Charismatics.”
    â€œPretty sure she’s okay with the Lutherans, but I wouldn’t place any bets on the Charismatics. Anyway, that’s not why I came by, I can assure you.”
    â€œDewey in trouble again? Mary Anne break his heart?”
    â€œWell, yes, but that’s not it either.” I took a seat at the breakfast table and he sat down in the chair next to me. I gazed at him, wishing I could work up the courage to come out and ask him about his intentions. Still, a girl could hardly pop the “are you ever going to propose?” question.
    â€œYou’ve got something on your mind, Katie.” He poured himself a glass of tea, then leaned back in his chair. “Might as well spit it out. No offense, but you’ve never been very good at hiding your emotions, especially when you’re upset.”
    â€œWell, I just woke up this morning thinking about . . .” Marrying you. Duh. “Thinking about the future.”
    â€œThe future?” He took a swig from his glass. “Like, years-from-now future or tomorrow