Her parents were probably paying for the reception since all she’d gotten was a rushed courthouse wedding, but Jody hadn’t even had that much. Forget the mushy chicken salad—she’d rather throw the fake cake at him, especially if the inside was something hard like concrete.

Paula and Tabby were giggling about something when they returned. At least, they were until Paula stopped in her tracks and her eyes shifted from Lyle to Jody. “Holy smokin’ hell,” she whispered. “What is he doin’ here?”

“He’s with his new bride, Kennedy. They’re getting a wedding cake for the big reception the ranch is throwing for them,” Jody explained in low tones.

“Your ex?” Tabby asked.

“That’s right.” Jody nodded.

Tabby shot a mean look toward his back and then promptly headed out across the floor, bypassing them on the way to where Mitzi and Dixie were bringing in cups of soda for everyone. Without saying anything, she took one of the three cups Dixie was trying to handle and started back to the display with it in her hand.

Jody watched Tabby from the corner of her eye as she wove through the crowd. Then Jody caught Mitzi’s expression when she realized that Lyle was in the room. Her mouth set in a firm line and her jaws worked as if she were trying to swallow a green persimmon.

Tabby stumbled over her own two feet but quickly got control. Then she tripped over the toes of Kennedy’s fancy boots and dumped the whole drink on Lyle’s freshly starched and ironed jeans.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry. I’m usually not the clumsy one. But I was lookin’ at that cake and wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’. I hope I didn’t hurt your daughter’s toes,” she gushed. “Please forgive me. It’s not every father who’s kind enough to come along with his child to these things. And now I’ve ruined your jeans. I hope folks don’t think that you’ve peed on yourself. You really don’t look old enough to do that, I promise. To have a kid as old as yours, you look pretty good.”

“It’s all right. I have a change of clothing in the truck,” Lyle said through clenched teeth. “And this is my wife, not my daughter.”

“Oh, sweet Lord.” Tabby’s hands went to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that you l-look about like my father’s age, and . . .” She stammered over the words. “Well, I’m glad you brought extra jeans. Forgive me for being so awkward. I hope I don’t do something stupid when I’m modeling a dress for The Perfect Dress tonight. Did y’all stop by our table? We do custom wedding dresses for plus-sized women, like your wife. Why are you getting a wedding cake if she’s already your wife?”