Page 206 of The Woman By the Lake

“Shoot!” I exclaimed and whirled back to the vanity.

Both Riggs boys left, but one of them came to me to give me a kiss on the side of my neck before he did (just in case there were questions, it was the taller one).

I finished with my makeup and hair, then I went into the walk-in (an extraordinary room that Riggs did up big also “for resale,” but Lincoln had given Sarah, even before it was the “it” thing in houses) and went to my dress.

It was a lot. Too much for an outdoors gig in the mountains.

But I was me. A city girl. And I’d learned in the past year it was amazing living in the woods by a lake, but I had to be me.

I put on my dress, my heels, then went back to my vanity to add my jewelry.

And that day, I brought Mom with me.

After that, I went down to greet the guests.

Riggs and I were sitting beside each other on our white chairs, Ledger on my other side (Harry on his other side), when Riggs leaned into my ear and murmured, “Good I fucked you and shot a heavy load before I saw you in that dress, or we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

I turned to him, slapped his arm, and hissed under my breath, “Stop it, Riggs.”

He grinned, wide, white and unrepentantly at me.

He then slung an arm, now encased in his suit jacket, around my shoulders.

I’d gone for a family matching look, so my dress was a sheer chiffon (with a matching underlay) in midnight blue, with big, yellow and red flowers and green leaves emblazoned on it. It had a long, tiered skirt that dusted the ground. It had sleeves that were straight, but from a seam around the elbows, blossomed out fuller and were gathered at the wrists. It had tiny, fabric-covered buttons from where the vee neckline plunged to my midriff down to the first tier of the skirt. But the collar had a long, wide scarf attached that I wound round and around, and tied in a big jaunty bow at the side of my neck.

I wore my hair up in a complicated twist full of curls, because…obviously.

The dirt and gravel weren’t easy to navigate in my strappy, green, high-heeled sandals, but once I hit the floor put down in the tent, I’d be good.

Regardless of Riggs being such a man, I was pleased.

It looked like we three belonged together.

Because we did.

“I hope they have PBR in that fancy-assed tent, ’cause I don’t do sissy beer.”

This came at us from behind, and Riggs and I turned to look over our shoulders as Bubbles leaned toward us.

I aimed my gaze at Lucille beside him.

She rolled her eyes, appearing as she was.

Longsuffering.

“I got some in the workshop so you won’t go wanting,” Riggs assured him.

Bubbles adjusted his tie like he wanted to tear it off, grunted, “You da man,” (yes, he actually said you da man) and sat back.

I shook my head at Bubbles.

He tossed his arm around Lucille and winked at me.

The congregation seemed to be stirring, so we paid attention and watched a line of men come from the back of the house and down the stairs at the side of the deck to stand in line to one side of the outside-of-the-roses-no-other-décor arbor.

The wedding procession started not long after, the women coming from the front door of the house.

Kennedy did great, until she was walking down the white sheet laid down the center aisle, and she turned and saw Harry, Ledger, Riggs and me.

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