She eyed her husband and then Wolfe. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothin’,” Mitch said, his eyes wide. “Honest, Evie. We’re just sitting here waiting for this shindig to start.” He slid an arm around his wife. “You look even prettier now than you did in the pictures earlier with the girls.”

Evie blushed a lovely pink that matched her pale dress. Her blond hair was curled, and her blue eyes sparkled. “Don’t try to charm me.”

Wolfe hadn’t spent much time around married people with families; it looked like a good gig. His chest felt empty. Maybe some people weren’t supposed to have that kind of life. Nobody related to him ever had.

Evie smacked her husband in the chest. “Those girls of yours. They completely altered their dresses.”

Mitch’s eyes danced. “I bet that ticked off the bride.”

“You have no idea,” Evie whispered, obviously fighting a laugh.

The music started, a soft melody, and the groom walked someone who must be his mom down the aisle, helped her sit on the other side, and then took his place by the minister.

When had the minister come out? Wolfe needed to start paying attention. The groom was about six feet tall with a cheesy grin. He looked as if a punch to the jaw would break it and maybe his whole face.

The music changed, and Charlotte started down the aisle with white flowers in her hands, escorted by a shorter, portly twenty-something boy who strutted rather than walked.

Wolfe’s gaze flew right past the next two couples and landed on Dana. The breath left his chest faster than it had last time he’d ducked and rolled away from spraying bullets. She was glorious, her green eyes glimmering, wide in her beautiful face. The dress hugged her body, revealing a little cleavage that was a dangerous temptation.

Her gaze met his, and she smiled.

He rocked back as if he’d been punched in the solar plexus.

* * *

Dana finished her cake, unable to take her eyes off Wolfe. He was something in a suit, and when he’d discarded the gray jacket and rolled up his sleeves, her mouth had just plain watered. She pushed the plate away on the white-linen-covered table, laughing as Charlotte shimmied on the dance floor with their mom.

Wolfe turned her way, his smile genuine. “Have I told you that you look beautiful?”

About five times, but she loved it every time. “You might’ve mentioned it.” She’d never seen him this relaxed. Not quite carefree, but as close as Wolfe would probably ever get. “So, we’ve survived the wedding, the toasts, the cake cutting, bouquet and garter tosses, and the first dances. I handled a temper tantrum from the bride about the dresses, and I kept Lissa from punching her. I think we’re home free.” She eyed the bouquet she’d caught, which lay on the table.