Dave thought Sissy would never be ready. He worried she’d gotten cold feet and fled the state. He stood at the altar with Ames’s brother—the pastor who’d spoken to Sissy’s heart and soul in Huntington Beach, his eyes glued to the other end of the aisle.
Everyone seemed to be in position. Her family, minus her dad, had come in several minutes ago and taken their seats on the front row. All the bridesmaids and groomsmen waited in line just outside the tent. He couldn’t see past them, and that was the whole point. Sissy didn’t want him to see her until she was almost to the altar.
She’d asked everyone and their cowboy to be in the wedding party, and he’d done whatever she’d asked him to over the last thirty-five days. She needed something picked up in town? He could do that. She needed him
