Montana Cowboy. Jillian Hart
as little kids ran around clutching helium balloons. One slipped away and wafted up in the air. The beauty who’d been the flower girl tipped her head back, curls swinging, to watch it fly away. A yellow Labrador bounded up to her and kissed her cheek.
The delicious scent of barbecue smoke drifted on the breeze from a built-in grill. An elderly man stood behind it, a long handled spatula in hand. Must be the groom’s grandfather.
“Come and get it,” he called heartily. “Lunch is ready.”
“Just in time. My stomach is grumbling.” As proof, it gurgled. “Embarrassing.”
“Or perfect timing.” Luke leaned in, the smoky notes in his voice ringing low and mesmerizing. “C’mon. In this family you snooze, you lose. The McKaslins love their food.”
“So I see.” Caterers buzzed in and out of the kitchen, migrating to two cloth-covered tables loaded with choices.
She took the plate Luke handed her and scooped a hot dog bun out of the bag. Little kids ran by her, looking for their moms. The yellow dog bounded after them, skidded to a stop, lifted his nose into the air and breathed deep.
“Don’t even think about it, Oscar.” Liam, the groom, grabbed the Lab by his collar. “Good behavior, remember? Or you’ll be banned to the house.”
Oscar’s head tilted, he gave a whine of apology and irresistible chocolate eyes blinked sadly.
“C’mon, I’ll get an extra hot dog for you.” Liam seemed like a really nice guy, kind and strong. A very nice combination. She thought of gentle, sweet Brooke and nodded. It was a good match. A very good one, indeed. The newlyweds met in the center of the deck. Soft touches, loving smiles and rippling laughter.
Just the way love should be. Again, she thought of Kip and the wedding he’d wanted—big, fancy, expensive, a showcase. Without love, it would have been a shell of what a real wedding ought to be. She’d definitely done the right thing in fleeing Malibu even if she wasn’t exactly happy here.
She caught sight of Jerrod ambling into view with a taller, older teen boy carrying a soccer ball. Jerrod looked as though he was having a good time. Good, she thought. Exactly what he needed.
“What would you like, missy?” the elderly gentleman asked, his spatula poised and ready over the grill.
She eyed her choices.
“A hot dog, please,” she said with a smile, laughing when Luke held out his plate for one, too.
They were so alike, it was kind of fun. She was so, so glad she’d decided to come. Here, with Luke, she didn’t miss home. He was exactly the friend in person he’d been online. She couldn’t ask for more than that.
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