Page 111 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

Elizabeth beamed at Wren. “I think that’s everything. Are you ready?”

Wren nodded and they helped her out onto the front porch where her dad was waiting for her in his dress uniform. He held his arm out to her, and the other ladies rushed ahead, giving them a moment of privacy.

“You look wonderful.”

“Thank you,” she sniffled, trying the fanning trick Holly did to stop herself from crying. “I feel wonderful.”

“In that case, we should probably get you down to the tent before your boy paces a hole in the ground.”

Wren’s heart beat faster the closer they came to the tent. The minute they crossed the entrance and she saw Sam waiting for her at the end of a white walkway, all her doubts melted away as she stared.

Sam stood in front of a white arch in a black tux, looking dapper and handsome. He froze when their eyes met, and he watched Wren walk down the aisle, his jaw slack, with Clark’s hand on his shoulder. She finally got close enough to see the tears streaming down his cheeks, and her breath caught. Her own eyes stung again, and she was afraid that if she started crying, all the ladies who’d helped her get ready would pitch a fit about her makeup running, but she couldn’t help it. While Wren had never imagined getting married until the last few weeks, she had to admit that Sam had put everything together exactly how she would have planned it. Simple. Intimate. Beautiful.

But the best thing of all was seeing the man she loved, the “player” of Mistletoe, with all his walls crumbling because he saw her coming down the aisle in her wedding dress.

It was the most perfect moment she’d ever witnessed.

“Who gives this woman?” the pastor asked.

“We do,” her brothers and father chorused.

Millie and Elizabeth stood on her side, both beaming. Her father gave her hand to Sam, who took it. When Robert put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, Sam leaned over and gave him a hug.

Wren heard him say, “Thank you,” before they broke apart and Sam faced her.

As they stood in front of the pastor, Wren reached up and wiped the tears from Sam’s cheeks.

“You’re supposed to cry after the wedding,” she said.

“Watching you come down that aisle was like seeing the sun crest the mountains for the first time.”

Now her eyes were burning again. After they went through their vows and had their very first kiss as husband and wife, she pulled away and said, “You do realize I wanted to have a quiet New Year’s Eve, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said, bringing her hands to his mouth and kissing her knuckles, “but I figured this would be the best excuse for us to stay home on New Year’s Eve for the rest of our lives and celebrate our anniversary.”

Wren squeezed his hands, joy bursting in her chest. “Good thinking.”

“That’s why you married me. Because of my brains.”

“Something like that,” she said.

“Ouch, can I claim spousal abuse yet?”

“You might wanna wait until you see what I’ve got going on underneath this dress before you have me locked up.”

Sam chuckled. “The anticipation is going to kill me.”

Epilogue

TWO WEEKS LATER

This is Jilly G, and you are live on the air.”

Sam held the cell phone to his ear while he maneuvered his rolling luggage through the Boise Airport. “Hi, Jilly, I don’t know if you remember me, but this is Sam. My nephew called in just before Thanksgiving, and you dubbed me ‘Lonely in Mistletoe.’”

“Oh, the one all the girls couldn’t stop talking about?” she said, laughter ringing in her voice. “How are you doing, honey?”

The fact that she still thought what happened on air was funny needled him, but watching his wife walking ahead of him in a pair of ass-hugging jeans took the sting out of it. “A lot better than I was after your show.”