and join them anytime. On the other hand, her aunt’s here and so is her shop. Sara would love the handmade jewelry.”
“Maybe Sara will get a chance to see it. That’s actually why I called. How would you like some company for Thanksgiving?”
“What brought this on?”
“Well, you know Sara and I have applied to adopt. Something could come through at any time. Once we have another child, traveling could be more difficult. Kyle wants to see those petroglyphs you tell him about whenever you visit. So we thought this might be a good time to take a trip. How do you feel about that?”
“I’m swamped at work and I didn’t know if I could fly out for Thanksgiving. So, yeah, it would be great. Dad won’t mind?”
“Nah. He and Val will spend it with Sam and Corrie and her dad. By Thanksgiving, there will hopefully be a baby to hold.”
Corrie’s due date was November 11. But with a first baby, Ben knew anything could happen. “If you fly out for Thanksgiving, you can give me your opinion of Sierra.”
“Does my opinion matter?”
“Sure it does. I checked out Sara before you got involved.”
“Yes, I guess you did.”
“I haven’t figured out Sierra yet. She says she doesn’t want anything from me. She says she can raise this child alone. But that’s not going to happen.”
“Just be careful, Ben, especially if you want to be a dad.”
“I’ll be careful. Remember, I know the ins and outs of the law.”
A few minutes later after Ben said goodbye to his brother, he pocketed his phone. Then he went downstairs to find Miguel, eager to see Sierra walk down the aisle. Weddings seemed to bring out both the best and the worst in people since they were highly emotionally charged events. He’d be watching Sierra carefully throughout the day, to see if she was the sincere woman she seemed to be. Actions always spoke louder than words.
Then he would decide exactly what he was going to do about the custody issue.
Chapter Three
Ben felt poleaxed as Sierra walked down the aisle toward him. He stood beside Miguel to the left side of the arch waiting for the main event—the bride marching down the aisle with her father. But first, her maid of honor prepared the way.
Sierra’s gown had been encased in a garment bag so he’d had no idea what it would look like. He’d never quite expected this. The turquoise fabric was filmy and floaty. The expression on her face got to him. She was thoroughly happy for her friends. He caught the sheen of tears in her eyes as she gripped her bouquet tighter.
They hadn’t rehearsed since only two of them were in the wedding party, but Miguel had told Ben what to do. He walked to the center of the aisle to meet Sierra and let her hook her arm into his as he escorted her to the right side of the arch. She held on to him as if the moment might be too emotion-filled for her to handle alone. But then she released him, stepped away, independent and so very beautiful. He could only stare at her for a moment before he once more took his place beside Miguel.
Tearing his attention from Sierra, he heard the swell of music created by the guitars and violins located to the side of the guests, then focused on the bride as she walked up the aisle.
He tapped Miguel’s shoulder. “You’re a lucky man.”
But as Miguel murmured, “I know,” and stepped to meet his bride in the middle of the aisle, Ben’s gaze fell again on Sierra. Their eyes locked and held, but then she looked away to watch Camille’s father hand his daughter to her future husband.
The minister motioned them forward and the ceremony began.
The ceremony, however, didn’t make an impact as Camille handed her bouquet to Sierra, as the couple bowed their heads in prayer, as they exchanged vows and then rings. Ben’s mind whirred with future pictures of Sierra as a mother with a newborn in her arms, rocking the baby to sleep, feeding the son or daughter that was a part of him.
But was this baby part of him? Was this child his? He didn’t know Sierra. He didn’t know her morals. He didn’t know if she slept around. Only a DNA test would tell him the truth. Women lied, he knew that. Hadn’t his father told him from his teenage years on that women were selfish, that they did what was best for them, not what was best for their family? His mother had proven that to all of them. Lois, instead of telling him what she wanted and needed, had turned to another man.
He didn’t want to accept the fact that he was an expectant father, only later to be disappointed. Better to stay removed than to care. Better to learn the truth now than later. In his job, he had to constantly separate the truth from lies. He was practiced at discerning the truth and he’d do exactly that with Sierra.
“We’re supposed to mingle,” Ben murmured close to Sierra’s ear as he stood behind her to pull out her chair.
The reception was being held in the same room at the Inn where Camille had introduced Sierra to Ben. Throughout dinner she’d sat beside Camille at the head table while Ben was positioned on the other side next to Miguel. Even so, she was aware of him in a way she’d never been aware of another man—not even Travis. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
As Sierra stood and rounded the table, Ben’s hand rested protectively at the small of her back. The heat of it easily penetrated the chiffon.
They were headed for the table where the bride and groom’s parents sat when a little girl of about five, who was dressed in a pretty pink taffeta dress, chased a boy who must have been her younger brother. The boy dashed around Sierra, but the little girl ran right into her.
“Whoa!” Sierra caught her, steadying them both. She felt Ben’s strong hands steady her.
The girl looked up at Sierra with fearful wide blue eyes, as if she was preparing herself to be scolded.
Sierra just smiled. “Do you think you could slow down a little? If you slip in those pretty shoes, you might fall and get hurt.”
The child poked her finger into her mouth and tentatively smiled back, mumbling, “Okay.”
“What’s your name?” Sierra asked.
“Trisha.”
“Trisha, you look almost as pretty as the bride today. Were you chasing your brother?”
Trisha nodded again. “He wants to play tag.”
“Maybe you could tell him tag would be a better game outside.”
Trisha pointed to the table where the boy had run. A woman who looked to be in her thirties was gesturing to the chair beside her. “Mommy’s probably telling him that.”
“Probably,” Sierra agreed.
“I’ll tell Mommy you said I’m as pretty as Camille.” Trisha quickly walked toward her mom, looking back at Sierra and waving.
Sierra waved back.
Ben
