Page 6 of Shielded Hearts

Everyone laughed, including the bride and groom.

Colt barreled on, “In all seriousness, I’d like to thank Shiloh for giving our brother a new chance at life and happiness, proving that even stubborn guys can learn a thing or two.”

His gaze fell on Aspen again.

Damn, Carson was right. Shewascute. Her dark hair was a perfect cloud of loose curls around her oval face, accentuating her angelic features.

What the hell was the matter with him? That whiskey must have been spiked with something harder. Two shots would not have him thinking about how a woman’s features looked otherwise.

Quickly, he lifted his glass higher. “Let’s raise a glass to these two: Shiloh and Oaks, who have shown us that love finds us in unexpected places. And hopefully, there’s no need for a third wedding.”

Everyone laughed at his joke. Colt barely got one sip of his champagne before the photographer was back, waving at everyone to smash together for a group picture.

Layne, Shiloh’s bridesmaid and Carson’s significant other, waved at Aspen. “Get in the picture!”

Oh Christ.

They were shuffled into a line still clutching their drinks.

Colt glanced down the line. Where the hell was Aspen? In most of the photos earlier, he managed to put her on the end, thinking he’d have a talk with the photographer and tell her to crop Aspen out.

Buthewas on the end.

Shit. She was between two people in the wedding party.

“Swap me places,” he said to Willow.

As he jostled everyone around like a Rubix cube, trying to position the unwanted guest at the end of the group, Willow touched Aspen’s arm. “I love your dress.”

She gave her a tense smile. “Thanks!”

Willow turned to Colt. “Your date is cute!”

“Not my date. Travel agent.”

“Travel concierge!” Aspen hissed to him as they swapped places. “And I need a ride!”

He stared down at her as they crossed paths to reach their new positions in the group photo. “Say no more. I can get you out of here.”

Chapter Two

Aspen paused at the open door of Colt’s old truck and looked down at the dusty seat. “What is up with the men in Wyoming? Don’t you ever clean out your trucks?”

Colt grunted as he slid behind the wheel. The movement stretched the seam of his tuxedo pants around his muscled thighs so much that he swore he felt a couple threads snap.

“We clean them out when necessary. Since nobody rides in my truck, it isn’t necessary.” He twisted the key in the ignition.

His unwanted passenger eased onto the seat as if she’d catch a disease from the dust settled on the leather. “If nobody rides in it, how does the seat get so dirty?”

“Oh, you know.” He backed out of the parking spot, careful not to ding any of the seven trucks that belonged to wedding guests. “Tractor parts. Greasy tools. The odd newborn calf.”

“Calf!”

He shrugged and took off down the driveway that led to the main road back to Willowbrook. “What’s your destination?”

“The airstrip.”

He turned his head to look at her. The airstrip was reserved for private planes or choppers, mainly wealthy Wyoming landowners.

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