A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal. Cathy McdavidЧитать онлайн книгу.
attention,” Nora observed. “He has that quality about him.”
“He is scrumptious,” Bridget remarked, returning from the cooler. “With a great smile.”
“Don’t forget well built.” Nora fanned herself. “My, my.”
Molly huffed. “You two are being ridiculous.”
“Am I wrong?” Nora appealed to Bridget.
“Not at all. If I was a female reporter, I’d spend more time interviewing Owen than anyone else.”
“The purpose of the TV interviews is to promote Sweetheart Ranch,” Molly insisted. “Not some scrumptious cowboy.”
“Ha! Then you agree with us.”
“I didn’t say that.” Except, she had.
Finished with her meal, Nora wiped her hands on a napkin. “I bet you two get all kinds of inquiries after the segment airs tonight. I set my DVR to record the show.”
“We should do that, too!” Bridget turned to Molly and waited, hands on her hips.
“What? You expect me to set the DVR?”
“Ah, yeah.”
“I have to take this food to the bride.”
“And I have to clean the kitchen.”
“Fine,” Molly grumbled and picked up the platter. “I’ll do it.”
Mindful not to drop any food in her haste, she stopped in the den and programmed the DVR—but only because her grandmother would enjoy watching the news segment when she returned from her trip.
Molly was in the middle of delivering the platter when loud male voices emanating from the foyer alerted her to the arrival of the groom and his party.
“Hurry, hurry!” The bride shooed her away.
Molly greeted the men and escorted them to the second dressing room, this one off the chapel. The groom’s parents had arrived with him. The mother quickly busied herself setting out the guest book and feather pen on the table next to the bowl of birdseed packets and placing folded programs on the pews. The groom’s sisters had brought champagne, and Molly directed them to the parlor where silver buckets filled with ice waited.
After cake and a toast, the wedding party and guests were traveling via chartered bus to a posh restaurant in north Scottsdale for a celebration dinner. They’d no doubt return late. Molly didn’t expect to see the bride and groom again until tomorrow morning. Or even later for their carriage ride around town.
Molly was debating calling Owen when he finally strolled into the chapel. He’d swapped his vest for the Western cut sports jacket he’d worn earlier, shaved off his stubble and freshly combed his dark hair. Molly had to admit, he looked the part. The groom’s sisters’ giddy reaction when they saw him confirmed it.
“You ready?” she asked.
“I think so.” He held up a sheet of paper. “I called Uncle Homer, and he gave me a few more tips.”
“Good.” She surveyed the chapel. Most of the guests had arrived and were seated. “We start in seven minutes.”
“That soon?” He swallowed.
“Relax. You’ll be fine. Don’t forget to introduce yourself to the groom before heading to the altar.” The next second, Molly’s pager vibrated. “I have to go. Good luck.” For one ridiculous second, she considered giving Owen a reassuring hug.
Coming to her senses, she sped off. The bride and whatever need had arisen topped Molly’s list.
She didn’t see Owen again until it was time for the wedding to start. Having exited the bride’s dressing room only moments before the recorded wedding march began to play, she retreated to the back of the chapel near the corner.
She wasn’t reassured to see Owen shifting anxiously from one foot to the other and tugging at his shirt collar. She tried to discreetly signal him without success.
Suddenly, music began playing, and the bride materialized at the entrance to a chorus of soft gasps. From then on, everyone’s attention was focused on her and the besotted groom. When the music stopped and they stood side by side in front of Owen, he cleared his throat. Then, he cleared it again. When he finally spoke, his voice was dry and frog-like.
“Wa...welcome, family, friends and, um, loved ones.”
Oh, no, Molly thought and clenched her fingers. Not the most impressive start.
“We’re here this evening to celebrate a wonderful occasion. No, not the opening of Sweetheart Ranch. Though, that was some humdinger of an open house earlier. Sorry you missed it.”
Molly cringed when no one laughed.
“Benjamin Carr and Jolyn Montgomery have invited you to witness their public commitment and declaration of love to each other.” Owen stared hard at the paper he held. “Gatherings such as these are important as they mark the special milestones in our lives.”
Terrific. The ceremony was sounding more like a legal proceeding than a wedding.
“Make eye contact,” she murmured under her breath. “Smile.”
He did neither, and listening to him was a painful experience.
“Ben and Jolyn, please join hands and look into each other’s eyes.” He paused. “These are the hands of your best friend. They are holding yours on your wedding day as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow and forever.”
Okay, this wasn’t so bad. He was reciting the “Blessing of the Hands” per the bride and groom’s request. Thank goodness he was getting this part right.
Owen managed to complete the entire blessing, even smiling when he finished with, “May these hands continue to build a loving relationship that lasts a lifetime.”
Molly expelled a sigh of relief. It was short-lived. Owen messed up twice during the exchange of vows and once when the unity candles were lit.
At last, he announced, “You may kiss the bride,” and proclaimed the couple as Mr. and Mrs. Carr.
Molly waited until all the guests had expressed their best wishes to the glowing couple before approaching them. She was prepared to apologize for Owen’s lack of polish and to explain the reason for it. Except they didn’t give her a chance.
The bride pulled Molly into a fierce embrace, nearly drowning her in satin and tulle and lace. “Thank you so much. This is the best day of my life. The ceremony was wonderful. Everything I hoped for.”
It was? “I’m glad,” she replied automatically.
The bride was whisked away by her maid of honor before Molly could say more.
She blinked in amazement. Had that really just happened?
Knowing she should make her way to the parlor and check on progress for the reception, she cast a quick glance in Owen’s direction. He flashed her a grin and lifted a shoulder as if to say, “We’re home free.”
Not exactly. He might be a diamond, but he was definitely still in the rough. First thing tomorrow, the two of them were practicing. Sweetheart Ranch’s next guests were arriving at noon, and their wedding was scheduled for one o’clock. That left Molly and Owen very little time.
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