Free High Plains Promise (Love on the High Plains Book 2) by Simone Beaudelaire

needed to be part of. But what was it?
    The answered dawned on him in a blast of winter sunlight, revealed by the movement of clouds. The wedding. Kristina and Cody's wedding. He needed to be there, he was the best man.
    Wesley stretched and climbed out of bed. This time, he'd managed, after a whole week of effort, to get Melissa to stay in her bed all night. He'd had to go in about five times to comfort her, it was true, but she'd stayed.
    As he dressed in his black trousers, white shirt, and coat, he couldn't help thinking about Allison. Though he'd decided a week ago that he needed her, needed to ask her to reinstate the engagement he'd shattered years ago, he had not yet spoken to her. She had been hard to find, preparing for the wedding, he supposed. But he hadn't given up. Perhaps afterward he could talk to her in private.

    Conversation swirled around the echoing interior of Lydia's Café, where Kristina's friends stood in small groups, eating sandwiches and drinking coffee. Wesley had found no chance to talk to Allison at all, so far. He leaned against the wall in the corner, where Melissa was sitting on the floor, picking little bites of cheese from inside her sandwich, but avoiding the ham. Scanning the room, he found his favorite girl, clad in a striking burgundy suit, her long golden hair wrapped in a loose bun, smiling as she chatted with the bride. Kristina had never looked so beautiful, he admitted to himself. Most of that was due to the glow of joy on her face. Cody approached and pressed a cup of coffee into her hand, and then wrapped his arm around her waist, leaning over to kiss her temple. Kristina's cheeks turned pink. He'd never seen her this happy. Cody was a lucky man and Wesley hoped to be half so lucky. As he watched, Kristina took several steps away from the milling center of the room. A gaggle of young women gathered into a knot. Kristina threw her bouquet of white roses directly to Allison, who, taller than the others, plucked them easily out of the air. Perfect.
    “Stay there, princess,” Wesley said to Melissa. She didn't acknowledge him, intent as she was on picking every scrap of cheese from her bread. He shook his head and approached Allison from behind, closing his hand around her arm. She jumped a little.
    “Sorry,” he murmured in her ear. “Can you please come with me? I need to talk to you in private.”
    She turned to look at him. “Yes, all right.”
    “Are you ready now, or would you like to spend some more time here?”
    Allison glanced at Kristina, just in time to see Cody scoop her up and carry her out the door to the cheers of the crowd. Blushing, Allison turned back to Wesley. “Let's go.”
    He gathered up his daughter and the three of them bundled on their jackets and left the party. In the dark evening, the chill sank right through to the bone, and they hurried through the icy wind to Wesley's house. Melissa was a dead weight in his arms, and once they reached the dimly lit parlor, he realized she was sound asleep in his arms. Precious little angel. He carried her up the stairs to her bedroom and stripped off her shoes. Her dress was not a good one for sleeping in, and he debated whether it was worthwhile changing her into her flannel nightgown. Allison took the decision out of his hands, removing a nightgown from the bureau and pulling Melissa's fancy dress from her plump little body. The little girl woke up as Allison pulled the nightgown over her head.
    “Mama?”
    “It's Aunty Allie, honey.”
    “Oh.” Melissa wrapped her arms around Allison's neck. She burst into noisy tears. “I want Mommy,” she whined.
    “Hush, darling. Your mommy is always with you.”
    Unable to watch any more, Wesley left the room. Allison had things well in hand, she always did. She was better with his own daughter than he was. Wesley walked into the kitchen, hunted down a kettle and some cups from their strange locations, and made tea.
    Leaning against the banister at the bottom of