Fortune's June Bride. Allison Leigh

beloved,” he began again.

      “I do,” Lila burst out. “And he does, too!”

      The audience laughed and Preacher Man held out his hands as if to say, what could he do? “Then I now pronounce you husband and—”

      Galen swept off his hat with one hand and grabbed her around the waist with his other. “Wife,” he finished loudly, then bent her deep over his arm, while she buried her face against his chest.

      “Am I s’posed to kiss you for real?” Galen whispered in her ear as the crowd cheered and the music crescendoed from the loudspeakers to its triumphant conclusion.

      Something inside Aurora’s tummy fluttered. The way Galen held her, nobody beyond the stage would be able to see that Rusty and Lila weren’t actually locking lips. She shook her cheek against his, though she wished he hadn’t asked. That he would have just gone ahead and done it.

      It was as close as she’d ever get to actually kissing the man for real, that was for certain.

      Sal the Sheriff and his men pulled Frank from the horse manure and clapped him in chains before leading him and his goons off at rubber gunpoint through the audience.

      As they did after every show, the onlookers dispersed quickly, anxious to get to the next attraction. The next cotton candy. The next roller coaster.

      She didn’t mind the quick loss of attention.

      She was just happy to be part of a show again. Playing Lila in Wild West Wedding was a far cry from the acting career she’d once dreamed of having, but for a rancher’s daughter who spent day in and day out helping her father, it was more than she’d thought she’d ever have.

      And being held in a close embrace against a seriously handsome cowboy wasn’t anything to sneeze at, either.

      Feeling breathless inside, Aurora patted Galen’s shoulders. “You can let me go now,” she whispered. It was safe to break character, because the mics were cued to be killed at Rusty’s last word, “wife.”

      “Yeah. Right.” Galen straightened, letting her loose. All around them, people were streaming away from the stage, calling out smart remarks and still clapping.

      She beamed at them and tucked her arm through Rusty’s, clinging to him as they and Preacher Man left the stage and strolled in the opposite direction from where Frank had been taken by the sheriff to the jail across the street. As long as any of the cast members were in costume out in the public areas of the park, they remained in character.

      Over the loudspeaker, the music had softened to a background melody of “Yellow Rose of Texas.”

      When they passed through a gate once more to the backstage area, though, she forced herself to let go of Galen’s arm. “You did a good job,” she said, slipping past him. “Didn’t he make a good Rusty, Harlan?”

      “Hell,” Galen said, stopping short. He peered at Preacher Man’s face. “I didn’t even notice that was you, Mayor.”

      Harlan Osgood grinned, pulling off his bottle-glass round spectacles and the fake gold caps on his front teeth. “Got myself a helper at the barbershop these days,” he said. “Been having some fun doing this a few times a day.”

      “Harlan switches off with Buddy Jepps playing Preacher Man,” Aurora provided. She pulled off the veil and microphone, then the hairpiece she wore over her own pinned-up hair, and saw Galen’s look.

      She laughed a little awkwardly, holding up the thick fall of ringlets that perfectly matched her own dark red hair. “My hair is straight as a stick. It would take hours to curl like this. And pretty as this is,” she held out one side of her skirt and gave a quick curtsy, “it’s about as comfortable as a straitjacket. So I’m going to change.” She headed toward the costume trailer, leaving the two men still talking.

      The corseted wedding dress wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as she’d made out.

      But she had no intention of admitting that she was finding it a tad difficult to breathe normally after being clasped up against Galen.

      Being held by Frank was a requirement of the role she was playing.

      Being held by Galen Fortune Jones was something entirely different...

      She left her veil and microphone out so the production crew could reset them in the buckboard for the next show, then stepped behind the changing screen to peel down the hidden zipper in the side of the old-fashioned-looking dress. She hung it on the hanger and tucked it, as well as her boots, away in the corner of the wardrobe trailer she’d purloined for her own use. Then, changed once more into her own knee-length sundress and cowboy boots so she’d be free to move throughout the park until the next show, she left the trailer again.

      Galen was still talking to Harlan, and his dark brown eyes crinkled a little as she approached them.

      Her gauzy white tiered dress wasn’t at all confining, but she still felt a constriction in her chest when he looked her way.

      It was a little annoying, actually. And embarrassing.

      Because if Galen had been at all interested in her ever, he’d have had ample opportunity to do something about it. It wasn’t as if they lived on opposite ends of the planet, after all. A corner of her daddy’s ranch bordered his daddy’s, and she’d spent nearly all thirty years of her wholly single life living there.

      Which was vaguely depressing, when she really thought about it.

      Thirty years old.

      She wouldn’t say she’d never been kissed, because she had. She’d even been in love until he’d been stolen away from her. But that time with Anthony Tyson had been years and years ago, back during the days when she’d still had dreams in her eyes about a life that held something more than cows, cows, and more cows.

      And certainly more than little ol’ Horseback Hollow.

      But life, at least Aurora’s, was about more than dreams. It was about loving her family and hard work and trying to replace a brother who was never coming back.

      She added some briskness to her pace. “I’m going to head over to casting and see how they’re coming along on replacing Joey,” she said when she reached the two men. All around them, the performers for the next show, The Great Main Street Bank Heist, were beginning to arrive and the backstage area was becoming increasingly noisy.

      “I should probably get back into my own stuff first,” Galen said, plucking the shirt.

      She nodded. “Thanks again for pinch-hitting on such short notice.”

      She still could hardly believe that he had. But then, she still had a hard time believing that he was helping out at Cowboy Country at all, considering that—like a good number of Horseback Hollow residents—at first he hadn’t even been a proponent of the theme park opening.

      Tall, dark and swoonworthy he might be. But Galen Fortune Jones had ranching in his roots and ranching in his blood. And he’d never made any secret that he liked their little town just fine the way it was. He didn’t want to see outsiders and fat wallets coming in and gentrifying things.

      She, however, had been practically champing at the bit to get her name added to the list of supporters. And as soon as she’d discovered that Moore Entertainment wanted to hire as many local performers as it could for the live entertainment at Cowboy Country, she’d hustled her tush right into line.

      Yes, Wild West Wedding was as campy as it got. But in the two weeks since they’d opened, the guests had been enjoying it, and so was she.

      “If you hold up a sec, I’ll walk with you,” Galen offered, surprising the heck out of her.

      She realized she was twisting one toe of her prized Castleton boots into the dirt and made herself stop. “Sure.”

      He smiled and strode away toward the trailer, all long legs and brawny shoulders.