“Good man,” JJ said, also grinning. “I mean, I buy all the longhorns and horses I want, so I can’t really tell Ruby no about anything.”
“Her dress isincredible,” Savannah said, and she took a few steps away from the men to gush over Ruby’s dress.
“She realizes she’s wearing the same dress, right?” Link whispered, and that caused everyone in the group to laugh.
“Incoming,” Conrad said, and Wilder found him watching as his cousin, Trap, approached with a pretty blonde.
“Howdy, fellas,” Trap said, and he wore an air of nervousness about him. “This here is Fiona Colwood.” He indicated the woman at his side. “She’s a barista at The Coffee Cart.”
“Howdy, Fiona,” Conrad practically bellowed, and Wilder looked at him with wide eyes. “Wow, your dress is stunning.”
“I didn’t get the wedding color memo.” She shot a look at Trap.
“It’s only for family anyway,” Wilder said. “I’m Wilder Glover.” He stepped forward and shook the woman’s hand. “See? Look—Ty’s date isn’t wearing silver or green either.”
Tyson arrived at the edge of the group, and he’d found Colt and Fawn—who was wearing a dark green dress with the silver chainmail shawl. Wilder grinned at them too, noting that Fawn held hands with Colt’s son, Jonas.
Colt was about five years older than Wilder, and Fawn was younger than him and had no romantic interest in the apple orchard owner. But she was great with kids, and she’d wanted a date to the wedding. Wilder had been the one to suggest Colt ask Fawn to go with him, and that had worked out nicely.
He’d also suggested Winnie to Ty, and he looked through the crowd to find the usually quiet, reserved, grumpy cowboy leaning in close to Winnie, whispering.
Oh, ho, and they were holding hands in a very more-than-friends gesture everyone in town could see.
Brave, Wilder thought as a chime sounded through the ballroom.
“You know that that means, guys,” he said.
“What does it mean?” Trap asked.
“We got an extensive text with instructions,” Link said. “And that chime means you have five minutes to find your seat.”
“We’ll be closing the doors in five minutes,” a cool female voice said. “Please take your seats, remembering that the first five rows on either side are reserved for family of the bride and groom.”
“My family needs about fifty rows,” Wilder said, and he happilywent to collect Savannah and lead her over to the end of the row where his parents sat with the twins.
Light, twinkling music filled the room, and the chatter died down. When the music stopped, Wilder looked over his shoulder and quickly got to his feet, for no less than two dozen police officers had just entered the room.
Uncle Brady had been named the Chief of Police about a year ago now, and he stood at the front of the formation, dressed to the nines in his full uniform, with every button, pin, and flag in precisely the right spot.
He wore snowy white gloves as he lifted one hand to his mouth, and the shrill, shocking peal of a whistle filled the air. All conversation cut off then, and every eye riveted on the brigade about to march down the aisle.
“Is there a Trooper Wellington here?” Uncle Brady yelled in his most authoritative tone. As a child, Wilder had been a little bit afraid of his uncle, but the older he’d gotten, the more he realized Uncle Brady was only tough when he had to be.
“Yes, sir,” a man called.
Wilder swung his attention up a couple of rows and across the aisle, where Trooper’s father stood. The rest of Trooper’s family had stayed seated, which only made the older man more obvious.
“Right here, Chief.” He pointed to his son, who got to his feet in a seemingly reluctant, sheepish way.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Trooper called, his shoulders coming up and turning boxy.
All eyes flew back to Wilder’s uncle, including his. Uncle Brady stood there unyielding, every officer behind him wearing a mighty frown.
“Being totally in love with your daughter isn’t a crime,” Trooper yelled next, and Wilder relaxed, realizing what this was. “I asked you for her hand in marriage and everything.”
One of Uncle Brady’s deputies stepped forward, put his ownwhite-gloved hand on Brady’s shoulder, and leaned in to say something. Uncle Brady’s frown only deepened.
“I don’t know—” he yelled.
