Page 36 of A Week To Wed
Even my parents have relaxed and have stayed for the ceremony, looking perhaps ten percent less pinched than earlier tonight.
The country band plays the wedding march on the fiddle, and I spot my groom waiting for me under a bluebonnet-laden arch.
It’s a chilly night in Montana, but Harley and Ray have brought in blankets from the ranch for anyone who needs one.
And there’s my Lincoln, waiting for me under the lights, under the sparking chandeliers, as Harley walks me down the aisle.
Lincoln is so damn handsome that I barely notice that every chair under the trees is filled. Everyone in town is here.
Lincoln looks happy, having surprised me by changing from his basic black suit into a black tuxedo and tails. I can’t believe he actually put that on for me. He also looks nervous, but he’s smiling at me, those crow’s feet making the butterflies do acrobatics in my belly.
I tremble through the entire exchange of vows, and I’m so relieved we didn’t write our own. I can barely speak as it is.
When Wink, the bartender from Willie’s, declares us married, my cowboy takes off his cap and dips me over his knee in a brain-scrambling, heated kiss. Cheering, clapping, and whistling are drowned out by the happy, dreamy buzzing in my head.
We sprint to the cake-cutting immediately after midnight, aware that everyone is hungry all over again.
My mouth waters at the sight of the four-tier triple chocolate cake, iced with velvety smooth buttercream.
Because Lincoln is Lincoln, he opts to cut a piece with the blade of his Leatherman tool. “It’s clean,” he murmurs when he sees the mock horror on my face. When he sees the chocolate cake underneath the frosting, Lincoln pauses for a second, smiles, and then lovingly, politely feeds it to me. “Chocolate. You remembered.”
I smile coyly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But since you brought it up, get ready for some good-ass cake. I found a guy in Mexico with the hookup on these extremely hard-to-get cacao beans….”
“Shh. Don’t ruin it,” Lincoln whispers with a smirk. I cannot believe this rude little shit shuts me up in mid-sentence by gently slipping that tiny slice of cake into my mouth.
My eyes flash, letting him know he’s going to get it later. At the same time, lord have mercy, this cake. Wow. I could cry because this chocolate cake is so good and moist and light as air.
Lincoln lets me watch him slowly suction the icing off his thumb. The heat in his eyes rolls over me, and my mouth dries up. Between his dirty mind on display and this stupendous cake, I can’t control my moan of pleasure.
Someone nearby titters and I remember we have an audience. And then I remember, it’s my turn to feed the cake to my groom.
* * *
Just before the bride and groom dance, a knowing look passes between the band leader and my groom.
I wonder what that’s about. Lincoln leads me to the dance floor, and suddenly I hear it. That song.
“Heaven
I’m in heaven….”
I gasp at look over at Lincoln. “What did you do?”
Lincoln just gives me a wink, then his face is set in concentration as he sweeps me into his arms. Like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, we glide across the dance floor. I know this dance better than I know how to walk, but I’ve never had a partner that wasn’t a friend or a dance instructor. But I’ll be damned; he did this for me.
He pulls me in close, and we sway back and forth for a moment. I ask him, “When did you learn this dance?”
My cowboy says nothing but twirls me around. The dance finally ends with the applause of all our guests, and my groom kisses me passionately. Once again, we forget that we have an audience. At least until the catcalls begin.
ChapterTwenty-Five
Maisy
All my life, I’ve been planning a wedding. But I never could have prepared for how wonderful Lincoln is to me.
Later that night, he surprises me once again.
In his arms, he carries me not over the threshold of our home but up the ladder of the barn.
