Grant wasn’t a tuxedo or morning suit kind of guy. But he had to admit the party of men looked handsome in gray tailcoats and trousers with accents of lavender.
As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, he wondered if this was the type of wedding Skye Foster would want. Not him. If he ever got married, he would want it to be by a cowboy preacher with the wedding party and guests all on horseback. Maybe have a big barbecue for the reception.
He gave his head a shake, uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts. He and Skye hadn’t even had an official date yet. They were a long ways from romance, and even if romance happened between them, they were still a long ways from talk of a wedding—if that time ever came.
“I’ve got everything I need, Mr. Nichols,” the tailor said, holding out his hands toward Grant’s shoulders to help remove the jacket.
“Thanks.” He shrugged out of the tailcoat, then went into a nearby dressing room. It didn’t take long to shed the rest of the wedding finery and get back into jeans, boots, and cotton shirt. Funny, how much more himself he felt with the right clothes on.
When he came out of the dressing room, he found the other men waiting for him.
“Lunch is on Charity,” Buck said with a grin. “Where do you want to eat?”
Ken suggested a popular pizza parlor on State Street.
As they headed for the car, Tom said, “Buck, now that it’s getting closer, how do you think you’ll like living down here?”
“I’ve gotten used to the idea,” Buck answered. “I’m no fan of the traffic, but since both Charity and I will be working out of the home, I guess we can avoid the worst of it. And we’ll be back in Kings Meadow from spring until after hunting season.”
“Sounds like a good compromise.”
“It was an easy one to make, once I realized how much I loved her.”
Up to that moment, Grant had only listened with half an ear. But now Buck’s remark reminded him of something his brother Vince had said to him some years ago. “I’d do anything for Segunda. You know, climb the highest mountain. Swim the deepest sea. Just so long as she agrees to marry me.”
He pictured Skye once again. Would he want to climb the highest mountain and swim the deepest sea for her? He’d been on his own for a long time. He hadn’t needed to make any compromises. He’d only had himself to think about. Was he ready to put someone else’s needs ahead of his own?
He didn’t know the answers, but he intended to figure them out. The sooner, the better.
Skye glanced at her watch and quickened her pace. She was late for church. Again. The congregation would be singing the opening hymn by now. She would have to slip into the back and hope nobody noticed her tardiness.
Rounding the corner, she looked toward the front doors of the church. Her heart flip-flopped. Grant Nichols stood on the steps. His jeans looked new, his black hat obviously one he kept nice for dress occasions. When he saw her, he came down the steps to await her.
“I thought maybe you weren’t coming,” he said as she drew near.
“I’m late.” As if he didn’t know that already.
Voices raised in song drifted through the closed doors.
He grinned, his eyes saying, You’re right. I already knew you were late.
“What are you doing here?” That sounded rude. “I mean, don’t you go to Meadow Fellowship?”
Grant shrugged. “I thought it was about time I heard Tom preach. Mind if I sit with you?”
Oh, the hammering of her heart. Could he hear it above the singing from inside?
“No,” she answered in a breathless voice. “I don’t mind. But we’d better hurry.”
He cupped her elbow with his hand and guided her up the steps, opening the door with his free hand. She slipped into the shadowy narthex, and he followed right behind. Just as they were about to move into the sanctuary, the strains of the amen filled the air.
Skye hurried toward the back pew, hoping to reach it before the congregation sat down, hoping no one would notice how late she was. How late we are. The thought made her tingle from head to toe.
She stepped into the pew and turned, her gaze sliding to Grant as he moved in at her side. He removed his hat, and when they sat, he placed it on his left knee.
How long had it been, she wondered, since a man had come to church to be with her? Never. Not really. When she was younger, she’d sat with the boys from youth group. Later, she’d often sat with rodeo friends who came to church as a group. But coming to church to be with her? That hadn’t happened until now. Of course, Grant had said it was to hear Tom preach, but instinct told her that she was the real reason—and it felt good.
Grant saw her looking at him and smiled. There was that tingling sensation again. She looked toward the pulpit, lest he see what she felt.