They discussed the October weather and the elaborate historical features of the sanctuary, Cole wondering to himself what the chances were of it bursting into spontaneous flames when he walked in to be seated.

Sierra’s dad seemed like a decent enough guy who’d made Cole relax a degree or two in the five-minute conversation—that was, until he shook hands again, preparing to find his older daughter to walk her down the aisle, and threw out there, “I trust you’ll keep it business with Sierra tonight. Nice meeting you.”

Mr. Lowell walked off, summoned by his wife, before Cole could reply. There wasn’t much to say to that anyway. Of course he’d keep it as business as he could. He wasn’t stupid. But the message was clear and hard to ignore anyway—Wayne Lowell had determined, accurately, within minutes, what Cole already knew.

Cole would never be right for Sierra, even if he wanted to be.

Chapter Four

“That’s a wrap, folks,” the photographer said to the rowdy, happy wedding party after finishing the last of the formal post-wedding shots. “See you at the reception.”

“Head directly to the Wentworth,” Sierra said to the group, conveying what the wedding coordinator had asked her to before heading off to the hotel ballroom to make sure everything was as it should be. “The party’s already started, so don’t waste any time.”

“Need help with anything, hon?” Sierra’s mom asked, her dad hovering next to her, all smiles.

“Just get to the party and make sure everything’s good.”

Her mom nodded as she retrieved her bag from the front pew. “I’m sure Burke’s people have it under control—”

“They better,” her dad said good-naturedly of the owner of the Wentworth Hotel—and one of Hunter’s groomsmen—with a hint of for what we’re paying them in his voice.

“We’re on it,” her mom said, her cocoa-colored eyes radiating happiness as she linked her arm with her husband’s. “We’ll leave right away.”

Behind Sierra, Kennedy swore softly, and Sierra whirled around to see her fiddling with the clasp of her necklace at her nape.

“Language,” Ivy sang out from halfway down the aisle at her fiancé Burke’s side, on their way out. “You’re in a church.”

“Oops,” Kennedy said. She dropped her arms to her sides and appealed to Sierra. “My damn necklace is caught in my hair.”

“I’ve got this,” Sierra said to Asia and Violet, the other two bridesmaids, who’d swooped in to help. “You guys go ahead.” To Kennedy, she said, “Turn around.”

“Good luck,” her sister said as she turned as ordered. “There’s so much spray my hair is concrete. Do you still have those scissors somewhere?”