scent of coffee in the air. Instead of getting up to go tell Mildred good morning and thank you, Libby snuggled down into her comforter.
She and Mister would live right here in this house until the one at Shiloh Ridge was finished, and he’d brought a few boxes over in the past couple of days. His personal effects and some of his summer clothes. One whole box of cowboy boots, and one with all of his rodeo memorabilia.
Libby wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep or just imagined it when Mister said, “Libs, baby, it’s time to get up.”
She sat straight up, her nerves firing at her as she looked toward the doorway. Her cowboy about-to-be-husband stood there, wearing what she saw him in every other day of the year—jeans, cowboy boots, and a deliciously black and white plaid shirt.
They weren’t getting married until five o’clock that evening, but Libby hadn’t expected to see him that morning.
“What are you doing here?”
“I made breakfast, but you just keep snoring away.” He did not step into her bedroom, though by tonight, it would be theirs. She’d bought new sheets and new blankets, and part of what Mildred and Mama were coming to help her with that day was a bedroom redesign.
“I’m coming,” she said, sliding out of bed.
Mister’s gaze slipped down to her bare feet and back to her eyes. “I like those pajamas.”
Libby giggled as she stepped into his personal space and he refused to back up and let her go by. His hands moved effortlessly along her waist, and Libby melted into the touch of this handsome, good man. Every time he beamed at her, kissed her, or said he loved her, she needed a moment to bask in the wonder and glory of it.
“Isn’t breakfast getting cold?” she teased as Mister kissed her ear and then down her neck.
“Oh, long ago,” he said. “I thought you got up at the start of dawn.”
“I usually do,” she said. “It’s my wedding day, Mister. I’m allowed to sleep in.”
“Can we sleep in tomorrow too?” he murmured, his lips like magic along her collarbone.
“Mm hm, yes,” she said. “Where will that be?”
“San Antonio.” His voice stayed low and husky, and Libby burst out laughing.
“I got you,” she said, pushing against his chest. “San Antonio? What are we doing there?”
Mister blinked, obvious regret in his eyes. “You sneak,” he said, reaching to tickle her. “We’re not staying in San Antonio. We’re flying there after the wedding, just for one night. Then we’re moving on.”
Libby held onto his shoulders as they walked backward. “Moving on to where?”
“Nowhere,” he said. “I want it to be a surprise. I told you what to pack.” He turned around, his smile playful, so she knew he wasn’t mad.
Giddiness spread through her as she entered the kitchen behind him, the scent of salty sausage and crisp toast hanging in the air. “What did you make?”
“Breakfast pizza,” he said. “Scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, cheese, with a salsa sauce on the dough.” He bent and pulled the tray out of the oven, the delicious-looking pizza making her mouth water.
“I love you,” she said as he set the pizza down. “Thank you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Let me tell you, getting Mildred to give me an hour this morning almost caused World War Three. She’ll be here at eight-forty-five sharp, so we better get eating.”
The clock on the stove read just past eight, and Libby wished he’d come to wake her up earlier.
“Sorry,” Libby said. “She just has a lot of plans for today. My hair, my makeup, my clothes. Then we have to get my elderly aunt, and all the women in the family have to get everything done too.”
“I thought your mama ordered the food.”
“She did.”
“Then what do they have to get ready?”
Libby knew how stressful it was to put on a wedding, because she’d helped a ton with Mildred’s. Of course, her sister had moved up her date by two months, and that had caused a lot of stress.
“The wedding planner is handling the decorations,” Mister said, pulling out the pizza cutter from the large utensil drawer. “So everything will be set up. The caterer will have the food here and ready. Lord knows there will be enough people to eat it. You ordered two cakes, and the band, and Mildred can give me an hour.”
Libby stepped away from him, surprised at the level of stress in his voice. “Mister.”
“Sorry.” He served her a piece of pizza and moved around the island.