by Cathie Linz
“Yeah, well, you’ll see for yourself what it’s like being a dad in what…another seven months or so?” Michael retorted.
“So, Gaylynn told you about the baby?”
“She didn’t tell me,” Dylan complained.
“Because you’re getting married in—” tugging back the cuff of his tux, Michael checked his watch “—in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?” Dylan paled. “Shouldn’t we be in the church, waiting at the altar now?”
“Yup,” Michael and Hunter said.
“Great. Great help you two are! Where’s Dad?”
As if on cue, Konrad Janos entered the anteroom. “What is the delay here?” he demanded, rumpling Hope’s hair with a grandfather’s loving touch. “You are going to be late for your own wedding, Dylan. Michael, why is your hair all messed up like that?”
Dylan had to grin at the age-old delight of seeing his older brother discomfited as he smoothed his hair with one hand and scooped his daughter up with the other.
“It was the babies, no?” Konrad noted in resignation. “You were giving them horsie rides in the vestry again.”
“He’s the pied piper of babies,” Dylan teased.
“And I just want to say, it couldn’t have happened to a tougher guy,” Hunter declared with a reassuringly mocking pat on Michael’s back.
Michael’s glare would have cowed lesser men, but Dylan and Hunter just laughed.
“Enough,” Konrad declared with a wave of one large hand. “It is time…time for me to see my last born son married.” He wiped away a tear.
“Hey, I thought the groom was the one who was supposed to cry,” Dylan joked.
“Oh, you…” Konrad gave Dylan a bear hug that almost crushed his ribs. “Come on. It is time.”
Abbie maintained her composure for the walk down the aisle on her father’s arm. This was the wedding of her dreams; she couldn’t have written a better scene. And Dylan looked incredibly dashing in his best cowboy attire. She loved him so much. She had no doubts about that.
So why was her mind a blank now? The priest was looking at her strangely, her ears were ringing, had he said something? Was this the part where she was supposed to put the ring on Dylan’s hand? Or vows? Was she supposed to repeat vows now? Oh, why had she drunk that pálinka last night? That’s why her thinking was so befuddled. The Hungarian brew was strong enough to scorch anyone’s brain!
Her panic was about to spiral out of control when Dylan gently squeezed her trembling fingers and leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Cowboy up, Abbie.”
Dylan’s grin was contagious. So was his love. In an instant, Abigail’s panic disappeared, enabling her to repeat her vows with confidence. But first she brazenly whispered to her soon-to-be husband, “I’m going to hold you to that, cowboy!”
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eISBN 978-14592-7911-7
ABBIE AND THE COWBOY
Copyright © 1996 by Cathie L. Baumgardner
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