Love and Other Trials

Chapter 6

SIX

Having a gator interrupt his first kiss with Ariel had Dax wondering if her family’s beliefs about wedding curses were catching.

He’d always been lucky, from when he’d won a set of tickets to the Austin zoo through a school raffle at the age of six. He’d brought home a new stereo after being Caller Number Five on the radio one fine spring day. The only girl he’d wanted to go to the prom with—the most sought-after cheerleader—had agreed. His high school basketball team had won the state championship. The Naval Academy, his first choice of schools, had made his life when they’d accepted him. He’d been top of his class at Top Gun, as much for his technical abilities as his creative flying. He could go on…

But having a kiss interrupted by a gator named Bumper? That seemed totally outside the normal, and it sure as hell wasn’t something Dax wanted to happen again. Especially since he so desperately wanted to kiss Ariel. Not only was she as cute as a button and sexy as hell, but she didn’t scream or run in the face of trouble. Some women would have fainted dead away at the sight of that gator back there. She’d been rock solid, but then again, she did search and rescue. He had a feeling he could take her up in the air and do barrel rolls and she wouldn’t flinch.

Shopping for a wig was another matter…

The two margaritas she’d had at lunch wouldn’t be near enough to get the poor girl through that. Especially since her mother had already picked out her hairpiece. Shocker. The very sight had made his nose scrunch up, to be honest, and Ariel’s entire face had bunched up like she’d smelled something rotten.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but are you sure this is what my mother selected?” Ariel asked, her voice raspy.

Dax pressed his hand to her tense back as they both stared at the long, wavy dark blond wig more suited to a beauty queen contender than the sassy woman standing close to him. Why was it dark blond and not brown? Had her mother wanted her to be a bottle blond like her sisters?

He had the urge to protect Ariel from her family. Hell, even from the shop owner. She closely resembled Cruella de Vil with her almost feral gaze and her pointy chin, white and black muumuu, and loads of costume jewelry. Ariel kept saying Charleston had characters, and this here was definitely another.

“Yes,” Cruella answered, petting it like it was a miniature dog. “Your mother and I had a consultation first thing this morning when she called. She assured me this wig would be perfect for the wedding.”

Not Ariel, Dax observed. The wedding…

God, he’d never been more glad not to be a woman.

Ariel cleared her throat. “I see. Well, I’m not sure this wig is going to suit me, what with me being so petite.”

“Don’t dismiss it yet.” Cruella moved toward Ariel, gripping the atrocity in her hands, looking ready to bowl her over and wrestle it on her head. “It’s called Longing for Locks, and it’s one of my bestsellers.”

There were wig bestsellers? He was in a new universe. Get him out! Still, Dax stepped in front of Cruella to block her from reaching Ariel and gave her his best shit-eating grin, one honed for the older ladies at church who used to pinch his cheeks abominably and try to set him up with their daughters.

“Ma’am, I have to agree with Ariel here. That wig looks more appropriate for an Amazon than a pint-sized sweetheart like Ariel here. How about this one?”

He pointed to the display shelf to distract her, almost laughing at himself. What the hell did he know about wigs? Then he shoved that thought away. He knew women. Spotting a cute little bob in Ariel’s actual hair color, he walked over to the freaky head displaying it with the penciled-in brows and glassy green eyes. God, he was going to have nightmares about this place. Styrofoam female heads wearing bad wigs were going to haunt him in his dreams. Ask him big questions like What did he want out of life? or What did he look for in a woman?

“A woman Ariel’s size would be swallowed up by that much hair.” He made himself lean in to Cruella confidentially, like they were besties. “This little brown bob would suit her delicate features better, don’t you agree? I imagine it will also showcase her bridesmaid’s dress better, something the bride must be proud of selecting.”

God, he was grasping at straws here. Ariel slipped behind the woman and made a show of clapping silently, her tense mouth fighting a smile now. Good. Mission accomplished.

“Ariel’s mother was very insistent on the wig I showed you.” Cruella’s tone was syrupy yet tough as nails. “If she’d try it on, she’d see why.”

Dax wasn’t putting her through that. Sure, she intended to lose the wig anyway, but that didn’t matter—what mattered was ensuring she enjoyed herself. He plucked the wig he’d chosen off the freaky head display and strode over to Ariel. Eyes pleading, he fitted it as gently as he could, wincing as she fought laughter.

“Here now, wait!” Cruella slapped his hand like he was a bad schoolboy. “You need a wig cap. Land sakes, you men are about as useful as tits on a bull.”

God, when was the last time he’d heard that one? From one of the cheek pinchers probably. Cruella huffed but she brought a wig cap over. First time he’d ever seen one of those, but Dax politely plucked it from her hands after giving Ariel the wig to hold.

“Allow me.” He flashed her a winning smile. “I’m told I have magic hands.”

“I’ll bet, but not in this fashion, young man.” Cruella cut him a terrifying glare, making him wonder if she’d been the model for the freaky female heads on the shelves.

Ariel let him do his best to put it on her. The wig cap made him wonder about the torture women endured for beauty. His mother and sister liked to look nice, and they went to the beauty parlor and had their nails done. But nothing too extreme that he knew of.

Of course, he’d heard old girlfriends talk about things like sugar hair removal—his untutored male mind imagined something as a clear pancake syrup—and fish-eating pedicures, which were straight-up terrifying. He couldn’t imagine paying to stick his feet in water with pedicure-focused piranhas. He’d live with calluses.

Thank God the wig cap only rated about a two on the beauty torture scale. Between the two of them, they got Ariel’s hair tucked into the darn thing within seconds. He tried to ignore how soft her hair was and how pretty she looked up close. Her nose was a sweet little accent to her oval face, but it was the rapid rise of her chest from her accelerated breathing that had him getting a little hot under the proverbial collar.

Ariel handed him the wig, biting her lip, trying not to laugh. Good. At least that pale, horrified expression had faded. Dax couldn’t imagine anyone in his family doing anything like this. He did his best to fit the wig, only to have Cruella ram her elbow into him to push him aside.

“You’re doing it all wrong.” She tugged on the wig, making Ariel wince. “There. That’s better.”

Dax didn’t care for the wince or the way Cruella was eyeing Ariel, so he walked over and lifted up her chin. Her blue eyes were enormous and sad, the expression almost like Sherlock’s. “Shall we amble over to the mirror and see what you think?”

He already knew. She was beautiful—with or without the wig.

At the mirror, she made a face before touching the wig and adjusting it herself. “This will be fine.”

Cruella made a tsk-tsk sound and came over with Ariel’s mother’s choice in her skeletal hand. “We should try this one on as well.”

“But—”

“Your mother did choose it, dear,” Cruella interrupted, pulling the wig off and beginning to fit her with the other. “And mothers always know best.”

Dax wanted to gag and respond, Not this one, but he figured the quicker they finished this fitting, the faster they could leave.

Once Ariel had the other wig on, Dax gave in to his impulse and started laughing. “It’s horrible,” he sputtered. “Ariel, where are you? I can barely see you.”

Ariel sashayed her head, making the hair swish around her like a mass of blond seaweed. God, the story behind her name had to be the reason he’d thought that up.

“You can’t see me?” She piled the hair over her face and then used her hands to part it down the middle. “Peekaboo.”

He chortled.

Cruella mashed her lips together and marched forward, yanking the wig off. “This is not a laughing matter. Wigs are pieces of beauty. Art even. Not the butt of jokes, I can assure you.”

Dax turned to her and gave her his best Captain Cross look. “How about this? We won’t tell Ariel’s mother how bad it looked on her if you tell her you agreed this wig was more flattering on Ariel. Especially for the wedding photos.”

Cruella gripped the blond wig in her hands, and for a moment, Dax worried she was contemplating strangling him. He was ready to shout, Run, Ariel, she’s going to smother me with a wig when Cruella nodded. “Fine, but only because I stand by my product. When someone compliments your hair at the wedding, Ariel, I want you to tell them where you bought the wig.”

She glanced over at Dax, and he could hear her thinking No problem since I won’t be wearing it. “I’d be happy to do that, ma’am.”

By the time they left the store and started walking to the golf cart, both of them were hanging on to each other, fighting laughter. “Don’t bray like a donkey yet,” he told her. “Cruella is probably still thinking of smiting us from the window.”

That had her clutching his bicep, and God help him, he wanted to take her in his arms that minute and kiss her senseless.

“Bray like a donkey?” Her laughter reminded him of the sputters his old Honda gave when it backfired. “I’ll have you know I sound adorable when I laugh.”

“You sure do.” He put his arm around her waist as Sherlock lumbered out of the golf cart, stretching the leash Ariel had secured to it—because dogs in wig shops with all that hair would be a foregone disaster, Ariel had told him. “I’m mostly talking about myself. God, Ariel. It was like a horror movie in there. That woman. The wigs. Those freaky fake heads wearing human hair. I might need you to hold me tonight so I can fall asleep.”

“Oh, you poor baby,” she crooned like she did with Sherlock. “I’ll make you some warm milk and tuck you into bed.”

He thought they were joking—at least about the warm milk. “You can tuck me into bed anytime. First, Bumper the gator and now Cruella the wigmaker. Who’s next? Please tell me it’s someone normal.”

“Honey,” she drawled, “this here is Charleston. Like I keep telling you, we adore our characters and eccentricities. Or did you not point out earlier the joint taxidermy and leather goods shop?”

He tapped her cute little nose because she looked downright adorable standing there on the street, petting her trusty bloodhound. “I did. Do you need a purse for the wedding? A newly killed dead animal purse would go great with your wig of real human hair.”

“Eww.”

“Exactly! I got creeped out when Cruella started describing how all her wigs come from natural subjects. It made me think?—”

“Some wigs come from dead ones,” she finished with a grimace. “I know! I thought that too. I mean, I know there are tons of good reasons people wear wigs, but if they have to deal with Cruella, I feel awful for them. Of course, you outdid yourself in there, Captain Hotpants. Thank you.”

The way she was looking up at him—like he was dark chocolate and sunshine all wrapped up in one—had him touching her cheek. “You don’t need to thank me, Ariel. I’m only sorry you had to go there in the first place. Besides, I told you that I have your back.”

She laid her hand on his chest, and again, his heart started to pound faster. Yeah, they were going to have to tuck each other into bed and soon. The heat between them was as sweet as it was scorching.

“I know you do, and I appreciate it.” She lifted the shopping bag as her hand fell from his chest. “Well, we have the wig. Are you ready to run a few more errands before we head back to the resort?”

He thought about Rob and wondered what he was up to. Maybe he should check in. But after this morning, he wasn’t eager to reach for his phone. That totally sucked, but he wasn’t sure what he could do about it. Rob had set a line in the sand, so to speak, and things were different between them now. He knew that happened when a guy knew his friends didn’t approve of his woman—more often than not, he distanced himself from the friends. It had just never happened with him. Still, he’d be there if his friend needed him. “Let me check my phone and see if I have any word from the groom. But as far as I know, the only thing I’m supposed to do is help you. Although if you must know, I’m mostly here to spend time with you.”

“I like that,” she said softly, her small hand resting lightly on his chest. “When you’re around, I feel better about getting through the day.”

He gave in to the urge to stroke her cheek again, holding her gaze a moment longer, before pointing to the golf cart. Downtown was filled with tourists and other people walking by, but he only had eyes for her. “Come, our carriage awaits.”

“You shouldn’t joke like that too loudly around here.” She started the engine after she stowed the wig in the storage box in back and plunked down in the driver’s seat. “One of the carriage drivers might hear you and offer you a ride. Charleston is famous for its carriage rides, you know.”

He petted Sherlock under the ears when the dog rested his head against his side. “Is Cruella’s shop on the tour? I wonder if the wig heads in the window stare at people as they go by. Like the Mona Lisa’s eyes following you wherever you go.”

“Well, Charleston does have a famous ghost tour, but I don’t recommend it for you if you got creeped out by the wig shop.”

“Lord, I swear this city is looking better and better to me.”

She was laughing as their eyes met and held. “Good. Because as far as I’m concerned, it looks really good on you.”

That had him wanting to puff out his chest. She sent him a wink as she dug into her purse for her phone. He did the same. He had nothing from Rob, but he had a text from their buddy and fellow groomsman.

Carson

Heard you’ve given my room to Ariel and the two of you are getting cozy. Told you she was hot. Let’s not forget brave and smart. You go. I’ll be bunking with Perry since it sounds like you two might need your privacy. We’ve agreed to buy all your drinks when we arrive since you’re pulling most of the groomsmen duty. Rob is being a dick. Like he doesn’t know how cool it is that you’re into a girl like this. Have fun!

Rob is being a dick, sure, but we won’t hide his parachute. Yet. Thanks for bunking elsewhere. She IS hot. Cute. Funny. I could go on. But then you’ll have more ammo. See you soon.

Dax was kinda glad his buddies weren’t showing up until Thursday. Their work schedules didn’t allow them to come earlier like his had. He kinda felt bad about not telling his buddy what had happened with Tiffany, but Rob had made his position all too clear. Still, he wished there were a way to warn Carson and Perry not to be alone with her. God, that sucked. To pull himself out of those shitty thoughts, he opened up his family group text.

Hey! Checking in. Having a ball with the maid of honor while getting ready for the wedding. Wanted to tell y’all how awesome you are. I don’t say it enough. Some families are crazy. Thanks for not being one of them. Talk to y’all when I wrap up here.

He got a few hearts back and some Ahs… before pocketing his phone. When he turned to look at Ariel, she was biting her lip, her brows smashed together. “What now?”

She made her eyes cross before shoving her phone in her purse and starting the golf cart. “My family has micromanaging down to an art. My mother checked in about the new wig I chose with some very severe language. Cruella apparently called her the minute we left her shop. Then Tiffany wanted to see pics of her koi. You know…”

“We should have taken a pic of Bumper and sent it to her.”

“With a koi photoshopped in his mouth.” She gave a snarky laugh. “She’d freak. I pretty much sent a thumbs-up back to all the texts. No point in answering them. It only encourages their interfering. Let’s keep going. We have more fun ahead.”

At the next errand, she got all serious with the wedding setup contractor, running through tables, chairs, silverware, and everything else including posh trash bins, intended to not distract from the day’s beauty.

Upon leaving, he made a face at Sherlock who gave him a soulful look as they climbed back into the golf cart. “I had no idea there was so much to a wedding. I’d always wanted a small one, but now I’m thinking of eloping. The trash cans sealed it for me.”

Her melodic laughter had him wanting to lift her onto his lap as they cruised through the downtown streets filled with Charleston’s charming shops. “They’re called disposal units, honey, and they were new to me too. Also, I agree on eloping—if that ever happens.”

“You mentioned thinking you fail to entice men, which I definitely don’t believe.” He motioned to himself. “Any other reason you sound so pessimistic?”

That greenish tint returned to her cute little face. “Let’s just say that right now I’m of the mind that there’s truly nothing a good vibrator can’t fix.”

He choked. “What?”

“You heard me.” She batted her eyelashes at him playfully. “Relationships are messy, with one or both parties not often fulfilling their end of the bargain.”

The edge in her voice made him observe, “Sounds like experience talking.”

“It is—in the form of a canceled engagement.” She merged onto Broad Street, wind playing with the ends of her hair. “I was in my mid-twenties and thought I could have it all. He decided once we started living together that I traveled too much for work.”

Yeah, he’d heard that comment after he’d graduated from the Naval Academy and started his career in the Navy. “I know what you mean. I had complaints about how much I was away. Made it hard to do any long-term dating.”

She pushed the gas pedal as they sailed through a yellow light. “I’ll bet they didn’t ask you to find a different job.”

He muttered a curse word under his breath. “No, they didn’t. They might have complained, but they liked the idea of dating a Navy pilot.”

“Women like a man in uniform.” She sent him a thorough once-over, smiling as she made his blood heat. “Understandable. My ex didn’t find my job that enticing, and he certainly wasn’t reasonable when I explained disasters don’t work that way. We broke it off. I haven’t met anyone since who understood my profession. It’s a calling.”

“Like how I love to fly.” He put his hand on Sherlock when the dog gave an enthusiastic ruff as they passed a horse-drawn carriage. “Look, some guys are jerks. I say that as a guy. But not all of us are.”

“I know that. I work with terrific guys, but they’re like me, you know? When you find your tribe, it makes things easier.”

He thought about his next question before deciding to go for it. They were getting to know each other. She’d opened up this line of talk. And they were heading to something more than friendly. “So you haven’t met anyone in that tribe you wanted to be with?”

“Temporarily, sure. But we don’t always hit the same disasters. Also, when you work together, the work comes first. We’re on a clock to find people. No time for messing around when people’s lives are at stake. None of us would mess that up for a fling. Even after things settle down some.”

Practical to the core, but he liked that. You knew where you stood with Ariel. “Your work is harder that way. Most of the people I work with in the Navy are men obviously, despite our branch having more women than the others. We’re still at twenty percent.”

The wind was riffling her short, curly hair when she glanced his way knowingly. “But not in the aviator ranks, I expect.”

He gripped the grab handle tighter as she turned left. “No, that’s about ten percent, and trust me, my mom and sister ask me about that all the time. They think it’s a shame there aren’t more women in the skies. They’re fond of saying women look good in dress whites too. My very funny brother agrees.”

She zipped around a car attempting to parallel park and turned right. “You have two siblings?”

“Yep. Both younger. Laurie is the middle one. A family practice doctor. Drew is the baby and milks it for all it’s worth. He’s a small business loans specialist.”

“Sounds like your family likes to help others.” She coughed along with him when the car in front of them puffed out a dark cloud of exhaust, one of the drawbacks to driving in a golf cart. “What do your parents do?”

“Mom was a social worker and now volunteers at a food kitchen. Dad is a criminal defense attorney, working mostly pro bono cases now. So yeah, we were raised to believe in service.”

She pulled into another parking lot and parked in the front; he was grateful to be away from someone who clearly had failed their emissions test. “Do they have any concerns about you becoming a cushy corporate pilot?”

He uncurled his long frame and joined her as they walked into an unremarkable brick building with no signage, Sherlock remaining in the cart. “It’s kinda breaking the mold, but everyone has been supportive. It’s not like I’m changing who I am. I’m hoping to do some Big Brothers work and the like now that I’ll have more control of my schedule. Be active in my community. I like being a part of something bigger than myself. You understand that. Not everyone does.”

She shot him a sexy smile and held out her hand for a fist bump. “We’re weird that way, I guess. Now put on your best serious look. This place doesn’t do loony.”

She was kidding. She had to be. He’d finally spotted the sign for the business in the lobby: Paradise Ignites. “Tell me this isn’t a place where you rent strippers.”

She snorted. “You should be able to guess. Take a whiff of the air.”

He looked at her oddly before sniffing. His mind clicked. “Gunpowder?”

“Welcome to the best wedding sparkler displays in town.” She had the door open before he did this time, but didn’t go in. “Charleston doesn’t allow fireworks at weddings, but this is people’s workaround. Wait until you see the size of their displays.”

“Sparklers?” God, he was getting a college-level education in weddings.

“That’s right.” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “I told Tiffany these things could start a fire, especially given our family history, but she insisted. Rob loved the idea too. They created a his-and-hers display. Also, because we need more fire, every guest will be given a handheld blue sparkler because Tiffany loves the color of Rob’s eyes.”

He made a gagging sound. “Oh God, he’s my best bud, but I think I just threw up in my mouth.”

“Ditto.” She put her hands to her throat playfully. “I should think it’s sweet, but I missed the schmaltz gene.”

He grimaced. “So did I.”

“Hey there,” a deep booming voice called before a giant man appeared in the doorway, filling it from end to end. The guy was easily six foot six and weighed over three hundred pounds. He had a brown beard down to the middle of his chest and what looked to be fireworks tattoos up both arms before they disappeared under a camouflage shirt. “What can I do for y’all?”

“Are you Bubba?” She gave her signature polite smile. “I’m Ariel Holmes.”

“You’re the one organizing the wedding this Saturday, yes’um.” He trudged over to the counter and flipped open a huge leather-bound book. “We’re ready for y’all.”

“Good. I wanted to make sure I talked with you before setup to make sure you have all the information you need.”

He ran a scarred finger down the ledger. Had it been burned in the execution of his professional duties? “Looks like we’re good. We provide a fire extinguisher for each sparkler display. The only thing I wanted to go over with y’all was water receptacles for the twenty-inch sparklers.”

“What do you suggest?”

He leaned his elbows on the counter, taking up near the entire length. “We can provide you with some tin buckets for the guests to drop them in, but some brides don’t find them fancy enough.”

Dax almost snickered, thinking of the posh trash bins Tiffany had wanted.

“Right.” Ariel took her phone out and started typing in a note. “No offense, but my sister is particular. Thanks for that reminder. We’ll figure something out.”

His huge head barely moved when he nodded, making Dax wonder if he had a neck. Then he noted his hands. They were like giant bear paws. “You ever play football?” he asked.

The old wooden floor shook when Bubba dropped down into a defensive stance. “Way back in the day. For the Gamecocks. Tight end. Although my missus says it’s less of a tight end now and more like a plentiful tush.”

When he grabbed his backside in both hands, Ariel squeaked out a laugh. “Go Cocks.”

Bubba made a fist and extended his thumb and pinky before waggling it a little. Ariel did the same and they shared a smile. She turned to Dax and said, “That’s ‘Spurs Up.’ We fans love our Cocks.”

God, the jokes he wanted to make. But he lifted his hand playfully and mimicked the gesture. “I’ll get the hang of it.”

“You planning on doing anything for the Cocks at the wedding?” Bubba’s massive jaw transformed when he grinned. “I had a few buddies get a Cocky cake for the groomsmen’s cake. Nothing like having our team’s mascot present when you’re getting hitched.”

“Unfortunately, the groom is from out of town and my sister doesn’t follow sports, so no, we’re missing Cocky at the wedding,” Ariel told him. “It’s totally our loss because Cocky is awesome.”

“Betcha.” He scratched his beard. “Hang on a sec. I’ve got something for y’all.”

He disappeared into the back, and Ariel looked over and batted her eyelashes at Dax. “How’re y’all doing over there?”

He gave her his best eyelash batting technique, hoping it didn’t trigger an eye twitch. “Mighty fine. Yourself?”

“Stupendous.” She tucked her curls behind her ear. “Any idea what a posh water can looks like?”

He tapped the side of his jaw. “Would those cute watering cans women like to water their plants with work? My mother has a couple from a flea market.”

“Good one!” Ariel plucked her phone out of her pocket again, prompting him to take another slow inventory of her legs. She had nice ones, the color of warm honey. He couldn’t wait to run his hands over them.

“That might work.” She tapped on her screen, her brows knitting together. “We’re at the budget ceiling for incidentals, but we need something to put the sparklers in. I should probably buy aloe vera or burn cream and some Band-aids too in case of any issues. But God, I really hope nothing happens.”

So did he. The last thing anyone needed at a wedding was a medic. “You’ve got lighters or something to ignite them, right?”

She nodded, still typing. “Ah…I was hoping you and the other groomsmen would be amenable to lighting them and handing them out. I need responsible people in charge of the sparklers. The Three Tornadoes actually suggested putting my nephews in charge of that.”

Dax started laughing. “Do they know nothing about young boys? When I was that age, we used to fire bottle rockets sideways. Hell, one time my cousin and I took down a pegboard from my dad’s toolshed and stuffed the holes with about twenty rockets. Dropped them onto a bonfire and boom. Everything exploded. Idiots.”

“Boys,” Ariel summarized. “Sounds like fun.”

“You a tomboy back in the day?”

“In secret.” She put her finger to her lips and went shhh in the sexiest way. “I was the girl in the pretty dress running off to climb trees and bait fishing hooks so I could catch something.”

“A closet tomboy.” He gave her a considering look. “Sexy.”

“I try.” She wiggled her hips with a little flirtation in her eyes, making him want to take her by both hands and kiss her soundly. When they finally got around to it, their first kiss was going to be out of this world.

“Maybe you can show me how you bait your hook sometime. I’ll need a new fishing buddy.”

Of course he could go with his Navy buddies, but he also liked the thought of going with this sweet little woman who’d captured his interest. Good way to get back to fishing. Plus, they could pack a picnic. Have a little romance on the side.

“I’d like that.” She turned her head toward the door when heavy footsteps sounded, signaling Bubba’s return.

The giant man came through the doorway with a black T-shirt in his hands. “Here. I want ya to have this. I thought it would be fun to have some made up. Cocky and sparklers go together in my mind. Might be a bit large on ya, but you can wear it as a nightshirt.”

He held out the black T-shirt and handed it to Ariel. There was a cartoon rooster on it with giant yellow feet with the words STAY COCKY and giant fire sticks exploding outward. She fitted it to her body, and sure enough, it ran to her knees. But she was grinning, and Dax had a strong urge to see her in that and nothing else. Perhaps later…

“I love it!” She clutched it to her heart. “Thanks, Bubba! I’m hoping to get to a game this fall, and trust me, I plan to wear it.”

“Does me proud to hear it.” He tapped his chest, ruffling his beard. “I’ll see y’all Saturday morning to set up. Holler if you need anything else in the meantime.”

“You betcha!” Ariel gave another one of those Spurs Up gestures, which Bubba returned, and then they were heading out the door.

Dax only gave a wave. “You’re really good with people.”

“You say that now.” She slid into her seat, tugged down her skirt unfortunately, and patted Sherlock before starting the golf cart. “Wait until you see me crash and burn with my family. Which we’re about to head on back to. You ready?”

“Is there a choice?”

She gave a scary laugh that would have made even good ol’ Cruella the wig lady’s hair stand up on end. “Gird yourself, Stephan. We’re about to return to talk to the bride about watering cans.”

This was best man’s duty?

Yeah, he was so eloping.