“Bridger just wants you to relax,” Dex adds.
“Relax. On my wedding day.” I clear my throat. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
I blow out a breath and shift my focus out the window, where a canopy of trees arches over the road. Oaks, maples, and poplars, all in a battle over which gives more shade. But the closer we get to city hall, the more my pulse picks up.
I’ve always loved downtown Harvest Hollow. The shops and cafes. The street lamps and white lights. This place is home to me. A comfort. But today, the brick architecture makes me queasy. And by the time the giant fountain in the square comes into view, I clench my teeth to avoid biting my lip.
Across that very intersection, in some echo-filled chamber, my friend and I are about to take vows we don’t mean, trying to fool Margaret Adams. And then my husband is going to kiss me again.
And I’ll try not to enjoy it.
Except the limo turns in the wrong direction. The driver probably thinks he’s taking us to the public parking lot, but I want to use the back entrance. The fewer people seeing me today, the better. Preferablynopeople, besides the few working at city hall.
“Excuse me, sir?” I lean toward the driver’s lowered partition. “I think we were supposed to go right at the stop sign.”
“Don’t worry, miss,” he says. “I’ve got the updated route.” He tips his hat, but continues in the opposite direction.
“So why are you still going the wrong way?”
“I know our destination,” he says. “Your friend told me.”
Myfriendtold him? I turn to Dex for answers, but he’s busy staring up at the sunroof. And whistling. So I glance at Sayla.
“What’s happening?”
“I wanted to tell you …”
“Tell me what?”
Dex stops whistling. “There’s been a slight change of plans.”
My stomach tenses. “What kind of change?”
“Bridger thought city hall might be too … public,” he says. “He was also afraid his mom might be suspicious of a civil-service wedding.”
“You know, he’s probably right about that,” Sayla pipes up. “Getting married in some government building attached to a post office does feel a little … cold.”
“Exactly,” Dex says. “So my guy made other arrangements.”
I frown. “Why didn’tyour guytell me?”
Dex shrugs. “He thought if you knew ahead of time, you’d think he was trying to be romantic or something.”
Sayla shoots Dex a look. “But he isn’t. Right?”
“Sure.”
My nerves, already elevated, shift into high-alert. “Sure?”
“I mean, no.” Dex tugs at his collar. “Definitely not. Zero romance. Just a … surprise.”
“Oh, he’s full of surprises, all right.” I peer out the back window as we pass the last intersection in town. Ahead of us is nothing but acres of open pastures and a skyline of mountains. “Where are we going?” I turn back to Dex. “You might as well tell me now, since the gig is up.”
His mouth slopes into a grin. “Harvest Farms.”
I glance at my brand new, very expensive dress and shoes. “So instead of a cold building attached to the post office, we’re getting married in a … barn?”
“Well, he did promise zero romance,” Sayla quips.