Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The Ranch
Hadley looked around the wedding tent. “I don’t see Declan or Bowman.”
“Or Muddy,” I added.
“The three of them are at the house,” Poet said.
Wyn sat in a folding chair as Poet attempted to tidy Wyn’s hair. “It’s no use, girl. I can’t fix this without hairspray and prayer.”
“Leave it,” Wyn said, batting Poet’s hand away from her head.
“At least let me get the leaves out,” Poet muttered.
Wyn ate her slice of cake as Poet tended to her. “God, this is good.”
“You didn’t kill her, did you?” I demanded.
“I didn’t even get my hands on her,” Wyn stated. “I tripped and went down. By the time I got up, she was nowhere in sight.”
“Probably for the best,” Hadley said. She looked at the mobile bar and yelled, “Wade!”
“Yeah, Hads?” he called back.
“I don’t want any liquor left when the day is done, understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he called back.
Lucy came up to me and gave me a hug. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“Yeah, congratulations,” Gideon added as he approached.
Wedding guests continued to offer me their felicitations and well wishes. But then the questions started.
“Does this mean you’re moving home for good?”
“Are you and Bowman getting married?”
“Does your father know?”
On and on they went.
Poet wormed herself between me and a few guests. She placed her hands on her hips, peered up at me, and glowered.
I waved at her. “Hi.”
She pointed her finger at me. “Don’t hi me. Wyn said you told her you were pregnant.”
“She caught me puking a few days ago,” I said lamely.
“And Muddy said she knew too,” Poet added. “I’m guessing you told Hadley as well?”
“No,” Hadley interjected. “Salem didn’t tell me. I already knew, though. Because Salem was acting weird and not eating certain things and she threw up when we camped out.”
“The beer . . . that spill was on purpose,” Poet said in realization.
“Yep,” I said.
She frowned. “I was the last to know. Again.”
“My father doesn’t know yet,” I said, patting her hand. “So technically, he’s the last to know.”
“He knows,” Muddy said from behind me.
I whirled. “Don’t sneak up on me!”
She shrugged.
“And what do you mean Dad knows? Who told him?” I demanded.
“Your fiancé,” she said. “He just asked your father for your hand in marriage.”
“Oh no,” I murmured.
“He wants to see you,” Muddy said, giving me a little push toward the house.
“But I’m at a wedding,” I said lamely.
“I’ll go with you if you want,” Hadley said.
“No, I’m no chicken. I can handle Dad.” I grimaced. “You think he’ll lecture me?”
“About what?” Hadley asked with a wry grin. “Getting pregnant? He’d have to lecture me, too.”
“I meant, do you think he’ll lecture me about falling in love with a bull rider?” I corrected.
Wyn turned to Poet. “We’ve got to get the fuck out of here. Like, immediately.”
“Why?” Poet demanded.
“Because there’s some sort of fertility juice in Huckleberry Hill. And I have no interest in getting pregnant,” Wyn said.
“It’s not so much Huckleberry Hill,” Poet said. “Just steer clear of hot cowboy bikers and you should be good.”
“Like cowboy sperm isn’t already potent enough? You gotta add the biker aspect to it?” Wyn asked. “It’s like a double whammy.”
“No pun intended,” Poet said gesturing to both me and Hadley.