“You know,” he said, “most men give their wife a ring.”
“People are staring, Hailey,” Leo whispered, his voice a low rumble. The entire town was indeed staring. Old Mrs. Gable was fanning herself with a hymn book. The Jenkins twins were taking photos with a disposable camera.
“I want a wedding,” Hailey had announced at the town council meeting, her boots up on the oak table. “And I’m not the one wearing the dress.”
Hailey shrugged. “Most men don’t make such pretty brides.” Hailey Makes The Boy Bride
She took his hand, laced her fingers through his, and led him home—not as a loser of a bet, but as the husband she’d decided to win a long time ago. And Leo, the boy bride, finally stopped fidgeting and started smiling.
The reception was held in the town square. Leo, still in the gown, danced with Hailey to a country song about trains and heartache. He spun her, and she laughed—a sound he’d been trying to earn for a decade.
He’d lost the bet on purpose. The bridge was perfect. “You know,” he said, “most men give their wife a ring
Hailey’s grin softened into something real. When she slid the ring onto his finger, she leaned in and whispered, “Good. Because I’m not giving you back.”
“Let them stare,” Hailey said. She picked up a bouquet of wildflowers—his bouquet—and pressed it into his calloused hands. “You lost fair and square. Now, smile. You’re a beautiful bride.”
“Maybe,” she admitted, pulling him back up. “But you let me.” Gable was fanning herself with a hymn book
The ceremony was a spectacle. The minister, a man with a wobbling voice, asked, “Do you, Leo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Normally, the Harvest Festival ended with a pie-eating contest or a square dance. But this year, the mayor had lost a bet. And the mayor, a sharp-eyed woman named Hailey Cross, always collected her debts.