What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(129)

He groaned. “Please don’t let that mean what I think.”

“Do you mind so much?”

He thought it over. “Yes.”

“But you’ll agree anyway, right?”

He cradled her face in his hands. “You’re not going to give me any choice, are you?”

“I am. We’re in this together.”

He smiled and curled a hand around her bottom. “Poppy has exactly twenty-four hours to put together the wedding of your dreams. I’ll take care of the honeymoon.”

“Twenty-four hours? We can’t—”

“Poppy can.”

And Poppy did, although it took her forty-eight hours, and then they banned her from the ceremony, which she didn’t like at all.

They were married at sunset on an isolated stretch of beach in a sandy cove. Only five guests stood with them: Chaz and Aaron, Paul and Laura, and Meg, who’d come alone because they wouldn’t let her bring a date. Sasha and April couldn’t make it back in time, and Bram refused to wait for them. Georgie wanted to invite Rory, but Bram said she made him too nervous, which caused Georgie to hoot with laughter, which in turn forced Bram to kiss her breathless.

They asked Paul to perform the ceremony. Georgie said it was the least he could do after burying her. When he pointed out that he wasn’t ordained, they brushed him off. The legalities had been observed months ago. This wedding was a ceremony of the heart.

A Crayola box sunset framed the beach that night. Bouquets of larkspur, iris, and sweet pea spilled from simple galvanized pails tied with ribbons that floated in the warm breeze. Although Georgie had forbidden Poppy to erect a bridal bower or paint hearts in the sand, she’d neglected to mention building a sand castle, so a six-foot seashell-and-flower-bedecked replica of the Scofield mansion rose up near the bride and groom.

Georgie wore a simple yellow cotton dress with a spray of flowers in her dark hair. Bram went barefoot. The vows they’d written spoke of what they knew, what they’d learned, and what they promised. After the ceremony, they sat around a bonfire to feast on crab and Chaz’s cream-filled chocolate cupcakes. Paul and Laura couldn’t take their eyes off each other, and as the fire snapped, Laura briefly left Paul’s side to approach Georgie. “Do you mind about your father and me? I know it’s too fast. I know—”

“I couldn’t be happier.” Georgie hugged her as Chaz and Aaron wandered off, side by side, down the beach.



Bram watched his wife’s beautiful face glow in the flames from the bonfire and realized that the panic that had been his silent companion for as long as he could remember had disappeared. If a woman as wise as Georgie could accept him, flaws and all, then it was long past time he accepted himself.

This exquisite, caring, smart, wonderful creature was his. Maybe he should be afraid of failing her, but he wasn’t. In every way that counted, he would always be there for her.

As night settled in, Georgie finally noticed a dinghy approaching from a yacht anchored offshore. “What’s that?”

“My surprise,” he whispered against her hair. “I wanted our wedding night to be on a boat. To make up for the first time.”

She smiled. “You did that long ago.”

Their guests saw them off with a shower of organic brown rice Meg had brought along. As they rode out to the yacht, Bram held his wife tight. He wanted their wedding night to be perfect. Lance had given her a carriage with six white horses, and Bram couldn’t stand the idea of falling short.

As soon as they were on board, he led her through the quiet ship to the largest stateroom. “Welcome to your honeymoon, my love.”

“Oh, Bram…”

Everything was just as he’d arranged. White pillar candles nesting inside hurricane shades cast a shimmering light across the warm wooden paneling and luxurious carpets. “It’s beautiful…,” she said in a way that convinced him she’d forgotten all about the carriage and horses. “I love it. I love you.” Her gaze moved past him to the bed, and she burst out laughing. “Are those rose petals scattered on the sheets?”

He smiled against her skin. “Too much?”

“Way too much.” She threw her arms around him. “I love it!”

He undressed her slowly, kissing all that he uncovered: the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her breast. He went to his knees and kissed her belly, her thighs, knowing he was the luckiest man on earth. She undressed him just as slowly, and when he couldn’t endure it any longer, he drew her to the bed, and the rose petal sheets.

Which had seemed like a good idea, but…

He pulled a petal from his mouth. “These suckers are everywhere.”

“I’ll say. Even here.” She eased open her thighs. “Do something about it, will you?”

So maybe the rose petals weren’t such a bad idea after all.

The boat rocked beneath them. They made love again and again, cocooned in their private, sensual world, vowing with their bodies everything they’d promised with their words.

The next morning, he awakened first and simply lay there, with his wife cradled in his arms, breathing in her scent, giving thanks…and thinking about Skip Scofield. You’re going to need to help me out, pal. I don’t have as much practice being a sensitive guy as you do.

You could start by losing the sarcasm, Skip replied.