Chris blinked rapidly, and a tear escaped down his cheek. I reached up and wiped it away with my thumb.
“By the power invested in me by the internet and the state of Colorado, I now pronounce you man and wife,” Everett declared, his own voice a little thick. “You may kiss the bride.”
Chris grabbed me and tilted me into a dip before kissing me breathless in front of everyone we knew. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. The Kingman brothers whooped, and Isak’s loud whistle echoed throughout the barn.
When Chris finally pulled me upright, both of us grinning like idiots, Lulu handed me back my bouquet. Chris took my hand, and we took our first steps together down the aisle as Mr. and Mrs. Kingman.
We did a traditional recessional and greeting of the guests and taking what felt like eleventy billion pictures. But before we headed for the reception area, Chris said he had something he wanted to show me before the reception kicked off.
“What are you two up to?” Bridger called as Chris started leading me away from the cocktail hour.
“Wedding stuff,” Chris shouted back.
“That better not be a euphemism!” Declan yelled.
“Mind your business!” Chris called over his shoulder, and Jules cackled somewhere in the crowd.
We stole a few minutes alone together and headed back toward the older barn that had gotten a facelift after the flood, thanks to Chris’s generosity. Chris had the team from The Gentle Barnyard set up a small petting zoo area for the guests to visit during the cocktail hour, but we had been too busy to see it yet.
“Close your eyes,” Chris said.
“Seriously?”
“Trust me.”
I closed my eyes and let him guide me forward, his hands warm on my shoulders. I could hear the sounds of animals nearby, a soft bleating, the shuffle of hooves.
“Okay,” he said. “Open.”
I opened my eyes.
“I know you said you always wanted one, and we really can’t fit one at the house, so I made sure that Maria would have room for him and a few of his friends here at the sanctuary.”
There, in all its huge, furry, majestic, horned glory, was a Highland cow.
“Christopher Kingman, you got me a coo cow.” I spun to face him. “Is he part of my dowry?”
“No,” Chris laughed. “His name is The Beast, and he was part of a hobby farm whose owners had to move. Now he’ll be living here and living his best life with some girl cows from another rescue situation that will arrive next month.”
I grabbed both his cheeks and kissed him loudly on the mouth.
“I can’t believe you got me a coo,” I said in my best-worst Scottish accent before turning my attention to The Beast himself.
“Look at you, you magnificent creature.” I stroked his fluffy head between his horns. “Aren’t you the prettiest boy?”
“He certainly is huge. Those horns are intimidating as hell,” Chris said, scritching the big guy under his chin.
“Doesn’t your uncle Tanner raise cows? I thought you spent summers there as a kid.”
“Uncle T. runs Angus. They’re huge, but they don’t have giant death pokers like this,” Chris answered.
I leaned over to kiss The Beast on his cute little nose and was startled by the loudest chicken “BA-GOK” I’d ever heard.
I turned to find Luke Skycocker tearing across the field toward us in his tuxedo. He had been let out of his Roostermobile to stretch his legs and looked to be on a warpath.
“Oh no,” Chris muttered.
Flynn and Gryff were chasing after him, dress shoes clearly not designed for sprinting across grass. Isak ran close behind, camera out and filming the whole thing.
