by Ana Seymour
“It’s bad luck,” Mary Beth added.
Parker’s grin faded as he stopped and stared at Molly. The tucked bodice of her wedding dress emphasized her breasts and made her waist look impossibly tiny. Her hair was swept into a graceful twist that cascaded down to her bare shoulders, which were a tantalizing white in contrast to the sun-ripened skin of her face. Her smile for him was radiant.
“It couldn’t possibly be bad luck,” he said in a tightened voice. “There’s going to be nothing but good luck around here from now on.”
Molly looked up at the ceiling. “You hear that, Papa? Your lucky stars are happy at last.”
“All right, lucky stars,” boomed Max from the doorway behind Parker. “You’d better get a move on if we’re going to have a wedding around here today.” Then she too came to a dead stop. “Land, child. You’re as pretty as a Scottish bluebell,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.
Smokey poked his head around her and gave a low whistle. “Mighty pretty,” he confirmed. Then he twisted his head to look back at Max. “You crying, Maxie?”
“Of course I am, you old coot. Women always cry at weddings.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Smokey marveled. “I never thought I’d see the day where a tough gal like you would go soft. It’s weddings that do that, you say?”
Max nodded, wiping the other eye. “Every time.”
Smokey gave Parker a poke in the ribs. “I suppose a fancy Eastern pup like you already knew that, right?”
Parker’s eyes were still on his bride. “Weddings are one way to soften them up,” he said, giving Molly one of his special smiles.
Smokey scratched at his beard. “That’s something to think about. It surely is.”
Finally breaking his gaze at Molly, Parker turned to Smokey and said in a stage whisper, “If weddings soften Max up, you’re in luck, because I have a feeling there’s going to be a slew of them around here. In fact, old timer, you might want to consider it yourself.”
“Don’t go giving him any more ideas, Parker,” Max cautioned. “He’s got plenty of them himself.”
“I do not,” Smokey protested.
They all laughed, then Smokey said grumpily, “Well, let’s get on with it. The best man’s down there pacing up and down the hall. You’d think he was the groom….”
“Harry’s here?” Susannah interrupted, her face coloring.
“Yeah. He’s all duded up pretty in a purple suit.” Smokey gave a shudder. “It’s amazing how quickly love can bring a good man low.”
Susannah gave Molly a final quick embrace. “You’re stunning, sis. I’ll see you downstairs.” Then she scooted past Parker and out the door.
“We should all be getting down there,” Max said.
“I’m supposed to be giving this little filly away,” Smokey said, putting out his arm.
Parker took hold of his elbow and steered him toward Max. “You can help Miz McClanahan down the stairs, Smokey—Mary Beth, too. We’ll catch up to you in a minute.”
The old cook looked at Molly, hesitating.
“It’s all right, Smokey,” she said with a nod. “We’ll see you all downstairs.”
When her sister and the older couple had left, Parker pulled her into his arms and bent to kiss the top of her breast, bare in the low-neck gown.
“I do like this dress,” he whispered.
“Parker, everyone’ll be waiting,” she objected, her lips turned up in a smile.
“I’m probably going to like taking it off you even better.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, as he found a sensitive spot just under her ear.
He moved his arms down her back and pulled her tight against him. “Don’t suppose there’d be time to try that theory out?”
Molly fought to bring herself back to sanity. She pushed on his chest, but he didn’t budge. “We’ve got a wedding to go to, remember?”
He tipped his head back and grinned at her. “Is that so? And who’s the lucky bride?”
The silk of her dress swished against the wool of his trousers as she swayed against him and said archly, “It’s that lady rancher, Molly Hanks.”
“Boss lady Hanks? I thought that little gal was too tough to want a man around.”
“You thought wrong, cowboy.” Molly pulled his head down and gave him a kiss. It started sedately, but as Parker seized her up against him until her feet left the floor, the kiss became a devastating fusion of lips and tongue.
“Lord almighty, Molly,” Parker said, finally breaking the embrace and setting her down. “After that, we’d darn well better go on down and get ourselves hitched.”
Molly stepped back and clasped her hands together to stop the trembling in her arms. She took in a deep breath, then looked up into Parker’s adoring eyes. “Hitched? I thought you didn’t like roping, tenderfoot.”
Parker pulled her hands gently apart, then tucked one into his arm. “Well, now, it’s like I told you, boss lady,” he said, turning them toward the door, “I’m a fast learner.”
* * * * *
eISBN 978-14592-6787-9
LUCKY BRIDE
Copyright © 1997 by Mary Bracho
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