Page 89 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

I’m going to marry Delilah Tate.

In two days, she’ll be Delilah Hayes.

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In a delightfully unorthodox turn of events, Izzy demanded everyone change into pajamas before dinner. In her words, “No one wants to eat tacos in a dress that requires double-sided tape.” Despite the odd request, everyone was grateful to shed their formalwear, especially in such a cozy mountain cabin.

She and Reid surprised everyone with hilarious matching pajamas—flannel bottoms and fuzzy socks in each person’s favorite color, and an inappropriate T-shirt.

Reid’s wearing a shirt that says, POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME, and Izzy’s replies, I’M SUGAR.

Connor and my shirts bear the classic SAVE A HORSE and RIDE A COWBOY.

Mr. Andersen’s shirt reads, THIS WEDDING IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY MY SPERM, and Mrs. Andersen’s says, I GREW THE GROOM.

Harper’s shirt is half a lyric, IT’S A LOVE STORY, with Olivia’s replying BABY JUST SAY YES. Greyson was less than thrilled Harper was dragged into the nonsense, but she was ecstatic to be included.

My favorite pairing is James and Greyson—who adamantly refused to put the shirt on until Reid threatened to unearth an ancient embarrassing story.

Greyson’s says, I BETTER SHAPE UP ‘CAUSE YOU NEED A MAN, as Danny Zuko, and James’s responds, I NEED A MAN, WHO CAN KEEP ME SATISFIED, as Sandra Dee.

We all laughed so hard the clothes changing was delayed a solid five minutes—I nearly peed myself laughing. Connor loved their shirts so much he snapped some pictures to show CJ, and then Greyson tried to break his phone.

The photographer takes a series of adorable couple’s shots. The T-shirt pairings will live in infamy forever. Izzy insists she take a break and join us for dinner, which she gratefully accepts. That woman’s been on her feet all day capturing every moment for the happy couple.

An elaborate taco bar’s exploded in the gourmet kitchen. Mrs. Andersen whips up a batch of virgin margaritas, and I catch James, Greyson, and Olivia slipping tequila into theirs.

I love that no one shames me or my sister for choosing not to drink. Reid stopped drinking for Izzy, and Connor avoids it for me. Even the scent is triggering sometimes, but we trust this group with our lives and don’t mind them imbibing.

Extremely relaxed and happy, I load my plate with warm corn tortillas, grilled shrimp, lime cabbage slaw, garlic-jalapeño crema, and cotija cheese. I don’t finish my plate because I’m too busy picking off Connor’s plate because his are to-die-for. He chose carne asada tacos, overflowing with guacamole and chili corn salsa.

I can’t eat another bite, but Mrs. Andersen brings out chocolate covered strawberries in every variety—milk, dark, and white chocolate, salted-caramel chocolate, and more.

I nearly clear them out of the peanut butter and jelly strawberries. It’s like they melted chocolate peanut butter cups and dipped the strawberries in the decadent concoction. I jokingly try to bite Connor’s fingers off when he tries to take one from me.

I love that Izzy and Reid had no one to impress or anything to prove, and chose the food and desserts they love instead of a giant cake they wouldn’t enjoy.

As dessert is wrapping up, Reid crawls beneath the dining table, cracking his head. What in the world? Reid isn’t the horse-around type of guy. Izzy giggles, shoving her hands under the table, squirming from whatever he’s doing down there.

He bumps his head again on the way up, shoots to his feet and victoriously holds a pink garter above his head. The room fills with hoots and hollers until Reid stretches the garter like a slingshot and points it back and forth between James, Greyson, and Connor. James dives under the table to avoid being shot and Greyson hides behind his daughter, who’s laughing like a hyena.

As he shoots the garter, I swear he winks at Connor who jumps out of his seat to catch it like a wide receiver before tumbling back into his seat, nearly taking me down with him.

“I’m saving this for later,” he whispers into my ear, goosebumps pepper my arms.

My sister shoots to her feet and shouts, “Let’s dance, bitches!” Music plays from hidden speakers, and we make our way from the dining room.

Reid swinging her around the makeshift dancefloor surprises me—he doesn’t strike me as a dancing kind of guy. But he’d do anything to make his wife happy, and for that, I’ll be eternally grateful to my new brother-in-law.

Greyson has Harper dancing on the tops of his feet, and I nearly melt from how adorable they are. Mr. and Mrs. Andersen slow dance to every song, no matter how fast the beat is, until they turn in for the night.

“You motherfucker. How many times do I have to tell you to keep your hands off my sister?” Greyson barks, chasing James around the small space threatening him within an inch of his life.

Ever the instigator, Olivia started the whole thing and now she’s conveniently shuffling Harper down the hall to get her ready for bed, all the while giggling.

“They’re going to get caught,” Connor whispers. He drags stray hair back from my face and a spark runs down my spine.

I lean back into his chest, and he runs his warm hands from my hips up my ribs until his fingertips tease the sides of my breasts. I gasp from his touch and grind into where his cock is contained by the thin pajama pants. Massive hands tighten around my hips and grip me tightly, halting my movement.