“I understand Russ has prepared a few words he’d like to share at this time.”
Alice smiled up at her groom, and he grimaced. Dean stepped forward and thrust a crumpled piece of paper at Russ. Russ stared into Alice’s eyes before waving him off.
He cleared his throat before he began. “Alice, I wanted to write the most romantic vows ever to be uttered at a wedding.”
Alice mentally groaned. Russ put grand expectations in front of himself and then struggled to move forward. His intentions were incredibly sweet, though. She gave his fingers a light squeeze.
“You deserve nothing less than the very best I have to give. I write and write and write for a living, but—” He stopped, and his eyes lit up. “I write for a living, Alice, but having you in my life gives meaning to every word. You are and will always be my greatest inspiration for love, loving, and romance.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to the back of her hand.
A giant, romantic sigh escaped from the back row, and everyone snuck glances at Lillian, the normally grumpy librarian, as she dabbed her eyes.
With those words, any lingering doubts or childhood fears evaporated. Russ would be a loyal, dedicated, and caring husband until death parted them. His words were not premeditated—they were honest and from the heart. In this moment, he meant every one of them, and she believed he would spend a lifetime living up to every syllable.
A few seconds and a ring exchange later, the pastor said, “You may now kiss the bride.”
Alice’s breath hitched.
Her fist kiss as a wife!
Russ gently cupped her cheek, sliding his other hand around her back and pulling her close. She sighed happily as he lowered his lips to brush hers once, twice, three times. While she’d shared many kisses with Russ over the last six months, they paled in comparison to true love’s kiss shared as a husband and wife. Adding the rings and the vows turned their connection into something deeper, sweeter, more fulfilling.
There was an enthusiastic round of applause as the pastor said, “I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. And I’m inspired by our surroundings to add, may they live happily ever after.”
Alice and Russ laughed together—another first as husband and wife. There would be many, many firsts and probably a few lasts, but it was the stuff between the “once upon a time” and the “happily ever after” that she looked forward to the most.
* * *
Thanks for reading! I hope this book brightened your day.
There’s more Harvest Ranch romance books for your reading pleasure. You can snatch up the next book in the series,Falling Inn Love, by clicking here.
Epilogue
Kate O’Halloran
Kate hopped off the stool to exit the lobby’s rear glass doors. The sound of someone pushing through the front revolving door made her spin around…just as the sound ground to a stop mid-swing.
Swoosh-screech,followed by a muffled whine.
“Oh, brother. Just what I need.”
A man had started through the door, but he’d somehow gotten stuck. He was trapped between outdoors and indoors, and his back was to her, pushing on the wood framed glass like he could make it go backward. Who doesn’t know how a revolving door works? Kate strode over to set him straight.
“Sir,” she said, knocking on the glass. “The door won’t go backward. You have to keep coming this way.”
The man turned just enough for her to see his face. Huh. Not a bad-looking guy at all. Dark hair, gorgeous long eyelashes she could even see through the antique glass. He froze for a moment, staring at her like a fish in a bowl, his mouth open and a slight frown making him look a bit goofy. She put a hand on her lips so he wouldn’t see her laugh.
He said something, but it was muffled.
“What?” She cupped a hand over her ear.
“My dog!” he yelled, and pointed behind him. Sure enough, a large dog stood outside the door, its leash trapped where the man held it.
Kate shook her head at him. “Dogs don’t like revolving doors,” she said, but the man shook his head and put his hand by his ear. She held up a finger to tell him to wait.
“Tourists,” she muttered, hurrying out the rear doors, going around the building via the narrow side alley where the hickory tree branches hung far too low and made her duck. She still hit her head. “Ouch!”
She growled at the tree but kept going until she’d reached the street entrance, slowing as she approached the dog. It was a labradoodle, of course. Half the dogs in town were anymore, after thoseLove at Homebooks came out. This one stood watching its owner on the other side of the glass, whining.
