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“No one ever is,” she whispered, looking down at her cup.

I’d known Morgan my whole life. We grew up together, even graduated high school together. I thought we’d be roommates in college, but Morgan got accepted into her dream college, the University of Arkansas.Go Razorbacks!When she returned to Rosewood afterward, there was something different about Morgan that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was almost as if she were lonely, yet scared, but I’d never known Morgan to be scared of anything in her life. For several months after her return, I watched as she constantly looked over her shoulder and jumped at random noises. When I asked about her time in Arkansas, she told me to forget about it, that she had the typical college experience and it wasn’t anything to write home about.

Knowing she’d dug in her heels, I left it alone and soon we were back to our old normal cranky, snarky selves.

The town was buzzing.

It didn’t matter where I went or who I spoke to, all anyone could talk about was the upcoming wedding of LeeAnn McDonald and the very rich widower, Jack Orlean, the owner of the lustrous Rosewood Ski Resort. Now typically, a wedding wouldn’t have everyone scrambling for the latest gossip, but this wasn’t just any wedding. The bride, LeeAnn, was what some people would call a serial bride.

The woman had already been married like a hundred times and from what Laurel, that’s LeeAnn’s daughter and owner of the Comic Store, told me, this was going to be like LeeAnn’s sixth or tenth wedding, I wasn’t sure. But the drama started when LeeAnn was engaged to Mr. Munson, the former owner of the Rosewood Trailer Park.

You see, he died three weeks before the ‘I do’s’, leaving LeeAnn with a full Southern wedding and no groom. That’s when Jack Orlean stepped in. From what I heard, the couple met the same day poor Mr. Munson kicked the bucket. Well, as the story goes, sparks erupted, and the angels sang from the heavens, and that was all Cupid wrote, because twenty-four hours after Mr. Munson’s funeral, the wedding bells were ringing again, only this time the groom was Jack Orlean.

Walking into the Rosewood Ski Resort, I smiled. I could hear the commotion from the ballroom all the way out in the lobby.

Poor Josie had her hands full, that was for sure. As the manager, Josephine Hennessy, Jack’s only daughter, spent most of her waking days tending to guests of the resort and now overseeing all the wedding preparations. More importantly, since she was close to the action, she was an excellent source of the current gossip.

Needing anything to take my mind off my current situation, I found Josie standing near the ballroom doors, slowly shaking her head as she looked at the folder in her hands.

The second I stepped inside the ballroom, I heard a loud, ear-piercing whistle that stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Listen up, children,” the bride snapped as the room fell silent. “If any of you mess up my wedding, there will be hell to pay. Do you hear me?”

“Isn’t this?” I vaguely heard Gunner whisper to Banks. “What, like her fifteenth wedding?”

Banks snickered.

“BOYS!” LeeAnn snapped at the two men, who both had the good grace God gave them to snap to and shut the hell up.

“Remind me to patch you into the club after this is all over.” King chuckled and as soon as everyone calmed down, the wedding planner jumped in and took over. “It’s two weeksbefore the wedding and we have a lot to cover today. So let’s get started.”

Tuning everyone out, I walked over to stand next to Josie and whispered, “This is going to be pure chaos.”

“Yep.”

“Where are the brats?”

“Granny took them for the day so they wouldn’t be underfoot. They will be back before dinner,” she said, jotting down a few notes before asking, “Why aren’t you over with the others, paying attention?”

“Because I’m not in the wedding. I’m just here for the laughs.”

“Well, there’s guaranteed to be plenty of those.”

“I still can’t believe LeeAnn got King to walk her down the aisle.”

“She got everyone. Kids included.”

“Good God,” I groaned. “It’s going to be a three-ringed circus.”

“Nope. Just a true Southern wedding. Everyone takes part.”

“So who’s the hottie talking to Jack?” I asked.

Looking up as her eyes scanned the room, she groaned, “My cousin.”

“He’s yummy.”

“He’s taken.”

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