Page 114 of Winning Bid

“Dad is at the bar over there, and Mom is corralling Mrs. Lexington away from the catering waiter she has her eye on.”

“Again?”

I snort a laugh.

“Oh yeah. You know how she is about the help.”

“Anderson West, you old son of a bitch!”

I glance up at him while he winces. “Who?—"

But then I see him. Tag McAllister.

Oh balls.

He comes straight to Anderson, grappling him into a back-slapping hug. “Heard you got married, but that can’t be right. You wouldn’t have gotten married without your best man!”

Goody.

Anderson smiles, laying his arm around my shoulders. Anyone on the outside wouldn’t see it, but his hand has hooked around my arm in a death grip. Poor guy. He tells Tag, “Actually, we got married without anyone else around. Just the judge and the court witness. It wasn’t anything personal, Tag. We just wanted it to be for us.”

Tag looks at me, and for a moment, I think I’m going to get away with anonymity. But I must have pissed off some deity because his eyes light with recognition. “You’re the same June Devlin from Appleton, right?”

“Yep.”

“Holy shit! You filled out!”

“Tag,” Anderson says, sharper than expected. “Why don’t you get us some wine?” It’s not really a question.

“Sure, yeah. You can count on me.” With that, Tag disappears into the crowd.

“We will not see him the rest of the day, mark my words.”

I giggle at him. “How’s that?”

“I sent him for alcohol. He is guaranteed to be distracted by something shiny at the bar.”

“Nice trick.” More people come to greet us, but it’s one near the reception area that catches my eye.

My father is here.

55

JUNE

It’s not easy to make my way through the crowd. Anderson was right about the dress—not quite the right selection for the event. My wedding dress marks me as a target, so everyone wants to stop and talk to the bride. On my way to my father, I peruse the setting.

Kitty outdid herself. The main tent is set up over a dancefloor with tables surrounding it, enough for a few hundred guests for supper. The other adjoined tents have smaller dance floors and bars, and one has an hors d'oeuvres buffet. Each table is set with pale pink peonies and lush greenery. Glass dome-covered candles somehow burn, even though they’re sealed. I don’t know what trickery is involved, but it’s lovely.

I get distracted by guests and scenery, but eventually, I reach my dad.

He is gussied up for today. His suit is designer, like his shoes, and he has a fresh haircut. He went out of his way to make a good impression today, and I’m not sure if that’s for me or because this place is crawling with rich people.

I’d like to think it’s for me, but I have known the man for too long.

“Hey, Dad.”

He smiles, and I don’t know why, but it makes me feel like a little kid again. “Hey, Junebug.” He pulls me in for a hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

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