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It had been fifty-three days.
Not that Holt was counting. Okay, so he’d been counting. But today was his wedding day, and he was already late. Only something really important could have made him late for his own wedding, and it was the news that Prosperity Ranch had been awarded a grant for rehabilitating rescue horses.
He’d already forwarded the email to Lane, who’d been the one to do the laborious part of the grant application. Holt couldn’t explain the relief that he’d felt at receiving the email. Money would funnel in on a regular basis, and he would be able to sell the rehabilitated horses to new owners. Now the ranch’s finances could finally be put in order, and he wouldn’t have to travel so much away from home. They could even bring on a part-time ranch hand.
Holt checked his appearance a final time in the bedroom mirror. He felt like a cardboard cutout figure in his tuxedo, but Macie had insisted on going all out. And he was pretty much pudding in her hands.
His phone started ringing again as he headed downstairs to the main level of his house. So far, his mom had called, his dad had called, Lane had called, and now this was the fourth call in a matter of twenty minutes. He answered with a clipped voice without even looking at the caller ID. “I’d be there already if I didn’t have to keep answering the phone,” Holt said, striding into his newly-renovated kitchen to look for his keys.
“Whoa, you’re late to your own wedding?”
“Knox?”
“Hey, man.”
Holt paused in the middle of the kitchen.
“I’m not going to make it after all,” Knox said.
Holt hadn’t thought otherwise, even when their mom had said that Knox was planning on coming. Heck, if the roles had been reversed, there was no way Holt would watch one of his brothers marry his ex-wife.
“No problem,” Holt said. “We appreciate the good wishes.”
“Thanks, man,” Knox said. “I didn’t expect to wake up this morning feeling like I’d been crushed by a boulder.”
Holt sat at the barstool, ignoring the texts now buzzing his phone. He and Knox had started talking about two weeks ago. At first a text here, a text there, then a conversation every couple of days. Knox had yet to come back to Prosper since he’d finally earned a spot on a pro-rodeo circuit.
“I want you to know that I wish you and Macie all the best,” Knox said, his voice sounding strained but sincere. “I really do. Macie is . . . she’s one in a million.”
This was also a one-eighty-degree turn for his brother, and Holt swallowed against the tightness of his throat. “Your support means a lot, Knox.”
“Can you, uh—” Knox’s voice failed for a moment. “Can you tell Ruby that I love her, and that I’m going to visit soon?”
“Sure thing, man.” Holt cleared his throat. “I’ll let her know. She’ll be thrilled to see you.”
Silence fell between the two brothers. And for a moment, Holt wished that Knox was here. In his kitchen. So that he could hug his brother.
“Well, you can’t be late to your own wedding, bro,” Knox said at last. “We’ll catch up later.”
“Yeah,” Holt said. “Right. Let me know how tomorrow’s rodeo goes.”
“Will do.”
The two of them hung up, and Holt rose from the barstool. He spotted his keys by the toaster, and he snatched them up, then strode out of his house. He had a wedding to get to.
The church was only a couple of blocks away, but Holt probably should have walked. Apparently, the residents of Prosper loved a wedding, and his mother had invited everyone. Holt parked his truck in front of a fire hydrant. He figured if there was a fire, he could rush out and move his truck, right?
He didn’t even check his phone as he strode to the church, because it would only slow him down more. Organ music played inside, and Holt stopped dead in his tracks the moment he stepped over the threshold. He didn’t know so many people could fit inside the chapel, or so many flowers. In fact, people were standing along the sides of the pews.
And hundreds of pairs of eyes had swung around to look at him.
Holt lifted a hand and gave a little wave. Was that appropriate?
He thought he heard someone snicker. Sure enough, he turned to see Lane, who was holding back a laugh.
“You’d better get up there,” Lane said, looking like he was five years older when wearing a tux. “I think we’re on the tenth run-through of the music.”
“Right now?”
