Chapter 18 Vows in Progress: Rings, Roses, and Rushed Desires
The next few days blurred into a whirlwind of excitement and checklists as Holly and Rowan dove headfirst into wedding planning. Evergreen Hollow's winter charm provided the perfect backdrop—snow-dusted streets, twinkling lights still lingering from the holidays, and the crisp air that made every breath feel like a fresh start. Holly's office at Heartstrings Connections became their unofficial headquarters, stacks of bridal magazines and vendor brochures spilling over her desk. Rowan, ever the pragmatic hockey star, approached it like a game strategy: set goals, assign tasks, execute with precision.
They started with the big-picture stuff, just as all the planning guides Holly had bookmarked suggested. Over coffee one morning, with Lily coloring wedding dresses in a notebook nearby, they nailed down the basics. "Small and intimate," Holly insisted, her green eyes sparkling as she jotted notes. "No more than fifty guests. Family, close friends, the team. I want it to feel like us—cozy, romantic, with a touch of holiday magic even if it's after Christmas."
Rowan nodded, his hand resting on her thigh under the table, thumb tracing lazy circles that sent subtle sparks through her. "Agreed. Venue first. The tree farm where we got engaged? It's got that rustic vibe, and we can string lights everywhere."
Holly leaned into him, her body responding to his touch despite the innocent setting. "Perfect. I'll call them today. Date-wise, how about mid-January? Before your season ramps up too much."
He squeezed her leg, fingers inching higher. "Works for me. Gives us time but not too much. I don't want to wait long to make you Mrs. Kane."
Lily looked up, giggling. "Mrs. Kane! Like me!"
Holly pulled her into a hug. "Exactly, sweetie. We'll all be Kanes together."
After dropping Lily at preschool, they headed back to Rowan's house—soon to be their house—for more planning. Holly spread out a spreadsheet on her laptop, budgeting columns glowing on the screen. "Okay, budget: Let's aim for 20k. Venue around 5k, photographer 3k, flowers and décor 2k, attire 2k, food and cake 4k, the rest for miscellaneous like rings, officiant, and honeymoon fund."
Rowan pulled her onto his lap on the couch, nuzzling her neck. "Smart and sexy. How'd I get so lucky?" His hands slid under her sweater, palms warm against her bare skin, cupping her breasts through her bra. Holly gasped softly, arching into his touch as he thumbed her nipples to peaks.
"Rowan... we have to focus," she protested weakly, but her hips ground back against him, feeling his growing erection.
"We can multitask," he murmured, one hand dipping lower to unbutton her jeans. He slipped inside, fingers finding her lace panties damp already. "Tell me about the dress while I make you come."
Holly moaned, head falling back against his shoulder as he stroked her slowly, teasing her clit. "I... I want something simple. Lace, maybe off-the-shoulder. Not too poofy." Her words hitched as he circled faster, pressure building. "We'll shop this weekend... oh God, right there..."
He kissed her neck, sucking lightly to leave a mark. "Good girl. Now, rings?"
"Matching bands... silver to match the engagement ring..." She bucked against his hand, climax approaching. Rowan added a finger inside her, curling it just right, and she shattered, crying out his name as waves of pleasure rolled through her.
He held her through it, then flipped her onto the couch, yanking her jeans down. "My turn to plan," he growled, freeing himself and thrusting into her wet heat. They fucked hard and fast, the spreadsheet forgotten as he drove deep, her legs wrapped around him. "I want you in white lace panties under that dress," he panted, "so I can rip them off on our wedding night."
Holly clawed at his back, meeting every thrust. "Yes... promise?"
"Promise." He came with a groan, spilling inside her, collapsing on top as they caught their breath.
Refocused (somewhat), they moved to vendor hunting. Holly browsed online for photographers while Rowan called the tree farm to book the date—January 15th, a Saturday. "They have availability," he announced, grinning. "Outdoor ceremony under the evergreens, reception in their heated barn. Includes basic setup."
"Amazing!" Holly squealed, pulling up florist sites. "For flowers, winter whites and reds—roses, pine branches, holly berries to tie in my name. Budget 1.5k max."
Rowan watched her, eyes darkening with desire again. "You're incredible at this." He tugged her into the bedroom for a "break," where he stripped her slowly, kissing down her body until his mouth was between her legs. His tongue worked magic, lapping and sucking until she came twice, thighs quaking around his head.
Panting, she returned the favor, taking him deep into her mouth, swirling her tongue around his length until he was groaning, hands fisted in her hair. "Holly... fuck..." He came down her throat, and they lay tangled, discussing invitations.
"Simple cards," Holly said, tracing patterns on his chest. "Save-the-dates via email to save money, then formal invites mailed."
They spent the afternoon calling vendors. A local photographer, Mia from the bakery turned side-hustler, agreed to a package for 2.5k—including engagement photos they could squeeze in next week. For the officiant, they chose Pastor Ellis from the town church, who waived his fee as a "community gift."
Evening brought dress shopping. Holly's mom joined them at the boutique on Main Street, tears in her eyes as Holly tried on gowns. The first was too frilly, the second too modern. But the third—a soft A-line with lace sleeves and a subtle train—made Rowan's jaw drop when he peeked from the waiting area (against tradition, but he insisted).
"You look... stunning," he said huskily, eyes roaming her body. Later, in the fitting room while her mom chatted with the seamstress, he slipped in, backing her against the mirror. "Can't wait to take this off you," he whispered, hand sliding up her thigh under the dress, fingers teasing her through her panties.
"Rowan!" she hissed, but moaned softly as he rubbed her clit. It was quick and dirty—he fingered her to a muffled orgasm, her hand over her mouth to stifle cries. "You're insatiable," she panted after.
"Your fault," he grinned, adjusting himself. "Dress is perfect. Buy it."
They did, with alterations scheduled for the following week.
Back home, after tucking Lily in with a story about princesses and hockey princes, they tackled the menu over wine. "Caterer from the gala," Rowan suggested. "Comfort food—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, winter salads. Cake from the bakery—vanilla with raspberry filling."
Holly nodded, sipping her wine. "Honeymoon: Cabin in the mountains? Skiing, hot tub, no interruptions."
Rowan's eyes gleamed. "Hot tub sex under the stars." He set his glass down, pulling her astride him. They made love slowly this time, her riding him with deep, rolling hips, his hands on her breasts, pinching and teasing until they both climaxed, whispering vows of forever.
The next day involved more details: Music—a local band for the reception, playlist for the ceremony. Décor—rented string lights, lanterns, pine garlands. They budgeted for a small bar—wine, beer, signature cocktail called "Mistletoe Kiss" with cranberry and vodka.
Jack stopped by for beer and brotherly advice. "Keep it simple, man. No drama." But his eyes twinkled when he saw the ring. "Proud of you both."
As Jack left, Rowan pinned Holly against the door, kissing her fiercely. "Can't stop touching you," he admitted, lifting her legs around his waist. He took her right there, hard against the wood, her moans echoing as he thrust deep, filling her completely.
Midweek, they handled legalities—marriage license from the town hall, simple process with IDs and a fee. Premarital counseling with Pastor Ellis, two sessions on communication and family blending. "You're already pros," he said, smiling at Lily's drawings on the fridge.
Engagement photos at the ice rink—symbolic of their story. Mia captured them skating, laughing, Rowan lifting Holly in a spin. Between shots, in the empty locker room, passion flared. Rowan pressed her against the lockers, hand down her pants, fingering her while sucking on her neck. "Come for me, fiancée," he commanded, and she did, biting his shoulder to stay quiet.
Photos done, they planned the rehearsal dinner—at Jack's house, casual barbecue despite the snow, with heated tents.
Guest list finalized: 45 people. Invites ordered online—elegant with evergreen motifs.
By week's end, they shopped for rings—simple bands, his plain silver, hers with tiny diamonds. In the jewelry store bathroom (desperation struck), Holly dropped to her knees, taking him in her mouth while he leaned against the sink, groaning softly as she sucked him to release.
Honeymoon booked: Cozy cabin, five nights, complete with fireplace and seclusion.
As they lay in bed that night, bodies spent from another round—missionary turning doggy, his hands spanking lightly as he pounded from behind—Holly sighed contentedly. "We're really doing this."
Rowan kissed her shoulder. "Best decision ever."
The planning continued, each detail weaving their love story tighter, passion igniting at every turn.