The Room with the Second-Best View by Virginia Smith

cozy conversation niche around the fireplace. No coffee table, lest the small area feel cluttered, but a pair of adorable occasional tables would add to the comfortable atmosphere she hoped to create. She could hardly wait for them to be delivered so she could see them in place.
    Footsteps on the stairs drew her attention, and she turned to see her fiancé descending from the loft they had decided would be their bedroom. Warmth filled her at the sight of him, his hair in disarray and dark curls dampened by a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Mr. and Mrs. Justin Hinkle.
    â€œThat’s the last of it,” he said as he reached the floor. “Can’t thank you enough for the use of the truck and your strong back, Junior.”
    â€œAin’t no problem.” The big man pulled a bandanna out of the chest pocket of his denim overalls and swiped it across the back of his neck. “I know you’uns would do the same if’n I needed the help.”
    â€œYou know it.” Justin clapped his shoulder. “Just say the word.”
    Puzzlement crept over Junior’s face. “Uh…please?”
    Susan hid a smile. “What he means is all you have to do is ask and we’ll be glad to return the favor.”
    Junior’s expression cleared. “Okay.”
    Charlie returned. “Is that all there is?”
    Since she rented a furnished apartment and Justin had sold many of the bits and pieces he’d picked up at garage sales when he moved in with the Richardsons last year, the sum of their possessions had fit in a single truckload.
    â€œThat’s it. Thanks for your help, Charlie. See you Monday. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
    â€œYou bet, Boss.”
    The two men departed, leaving Susan and Justin alone in their new home.
    He scrunched his features. “I wish he wouldn’t call me Boss. It sounds so official.”
    She laughed and stepped closer, drawn like metal to a magnet. “That’s the price of success.” A rogue curl stuck out on one side, and she smoothed it into place over his ear. “I felt the same the first time someone called me Dr. Jeffries. Like I was pretending to be a grown-up.”
    Hooking an arm around her waist, he drew her to him. “How are you going to feel when they call you Dr. Hinkle?”
    A delicious thrill shot through her. “I’ll probably grin like an idiot.”
    He lowered his head and their lips met, sending a multitude of shivers coursing through her. The kiss ended too soon, her lips reluctant to release his. She stepped prudently away, aware that the rigid self-control she had exercised all her life in any endeavor she undertook was rendered feeble and fragile in close proximity to the man she loved. An equal passion shone in the eyes that bore into hers, and she cleared her throat. Time for a little ice water.
    â€œYour Aunt Lorna called today.”
    Rolling his eyes, he heaved a sigh. “Again?”
    â€œTwice, actually.” The second time, Susan had felt obligated to take the call. “She’s upset about the flowers.”
    â€œWhat flowers? I thought we decided not to have flowers.”
    â€œExactly.” The conversation had lasted far longer than Susan’s patience, and Mrs. Ryan informed her in no uncertain terms that she and her cat did not appreciate being kept waiting in a cold exam room. “She insists that it’s bad luck for a bride to not carry a bouquet, and I’m dooming our marriage before it even begins.”
    Justin made a rude sound with his lips. “I hope you told her to mind her own business.”
    â€œOf course not, but I didn’t give in either.” She allowed a touch of doubt to creep into her voice. “She’s your great-aunt, Justin. I don’t have a relationship with any of my relatives, so I don’t want to alienate her. Maybe I should carry a few daisies or something, just to make her happy.”
    He took her hand