Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(54)

I glance at Wyatt again.

Joy.

Oh my god.

He’s my joy.

My laughter.

My strength.

My challenge.

My motivation.

My rock.

My joy.

His eyes are misty too, but he doesn’t look away.

I suddenly don’t care if I can never get pregnant or give birth.

I don’t care if I never have a big wedding.

I don’t care if nothing on the outside looks perfect.

I just don’t want Wyatt to leave tomorrow.

“The rings!” Pop calls.

My mom gasps. Tucker leaps to his feet and points past the gazebo. Wyatt’s eyes leave mine, and they go comically wide. He starts to his feet too.

My dad’s jaw is flapping.

I turn to look, already smiling, because I know what’s coming, except— “Goats?”

Monica shoots me a look and laughs like I’m crazy, but then her eyes, too, go round as a ship’s wheel.

Because there’s an army of goats cresting the hill and charging the gazebo.

The wedding guests are laughing.

So are the tourists.

But the locals who are in on all the wedding plans?

They’re not.

Grady looks at me and mouths, Goats?

I shrug, because I don’t know where they came from.

“The rings!” Monica says to Pop, who’s also staring in surprise at the herd.

“The rings,” he agrees.

Only Jason seems amused.

Confused, but also amused.

Pretty sure real pirates could invade his home and he’d just stand there watching. Unless they tried to take Monica as part of their booty.

Then I think things would get ugly.

Patrick hands Pop the rings.

A goat barrels into the gazebo from behind, darts across, and head-butts Pop’s knee.

“Oh, no, you didn’t, you little sucker!” Grady yells. “Charge! That powder monkey’s making away with our pirate captain!”

“Little fucker. Little fucker,” Long Beak Silver improvises from atop the gazebo.

“Dad—” Tucker says.

“I know. Don’t repeat it,” Wyatt tells him.

“The pirates—” Tucker says, pointing.

Sit, I mouth.

He narrows his eyes at me while two dozen locals dressed like pirates charge up the aisle and around the chairs toward the bride and groom, yelling and waving swords.

I grin back at him.

And then a goat rams my left leg, and I gasp and buckle.

“With this ring, I thee wed!” Monica yells.

“With this ring, I thee wed!” Jason yells back.

I know he’s supposed to unsheathe his sword and battle the pirates, but stars are dancing in my vision as a goat jumps on my knee and tries to lick my ears.

“I now pronounce you pirate and wife!” Pop yells.

“Back, you little fucker.” Wyatt sweeps the goat back, and then I’m up in his arms. My dad’s right behind us.

“Ellie. Hospital. Now,” my dad orders.

“It’s fine,” I say.

I want to watch the show.

And grip Wyatt a little tighter.

And, yes, probably pop a painkiller—the over-the-counter kind, because I’m sure the pain will recede soon—or maybe two.

“Dad, the goat’s licking me and the pirates are fighting,” Tucker laughs.

“The swords!” I gasp. “Wyatt, the guests need their swords!”

“I got ’em, Ellie,” Sloane calls.

And she does.

She’s handing out foam swords to all of Jason and Monica’s friends, who are leaping into the fray and battling the pirates who are trying to weave around the herd of goats to get to Monica.

“Back, you scurvy dogs!” Jason yells. “You’ll never take my bride! Piracy can’t stop true love! Only death can do that!”

“My hero,” Monica cries happily.

He scoops her over his shoulder as Sloane throws me a sword. “Behind you!”

She hasn’t given one to Patrick.

And he has four locals surrounding him.

“Babe, some help?” he says.

“Eat shit and die, you cheating asshole,” she replies.

Mr. and Mrs. Dixon gasp in horror.

And that’s before Grady’s younger cousins attack them with foam swords. “Plunder the booty!” one of them yells.

I bash foam swords with Tillie Jean, defending Wyatt while he tries to get us out of the mess of goats and pirates.

“Tucker! Careful!”

“I’ve got him, Wyatt,” Mom calls. “He’s a good pirate fighter. You get Ellie to safety!”

She bops Grady on the head with the butt of her foam sword, and he staggers dramatically, trips over a wooden folding chair, and faceplants in the ground.

“Oh my god!” I gasp.

“He’ll be fine,” Tillie Jean says while I continue to fight her behind Wyatt’s back. “The only person I know with a thicker skull than Grady is Cooper.”

My dad stabs Tillie Jean in the back with his foam sword, and she makes a dramatic pirate death too, yelling, “My brothers in pirate arms are coming for you, Captain Monica!” as she croaks out her fake last breaths.