The crowd is bursting at the seams, and a list of distinguished speakers, including the mayor of Dallas, holds the crowd’s rapt attention for over an hour. I think they’re getting restless as hell for the real guest of honor.
I know I am.
He finally shows up looking more regal than ever, standing taller than a Saint Bernard with his green-gold eyes flashing, the white tufts on the sides of his face fluffed like a proud Viking.
Bruce the Magnificent.
All hail the king.
Willow just has to smile and wave, and he stays rooted to his spot in front of the main entrance, perched inside a large flatbed trailer with a huge cage fixed to it, rumbling forward.
Bruce is totally relaxed. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’s enjoying the attention.
Hank parks the ride next to the speakers’ platform.
I smile at Willow as Sawyer and Avery take the stage. They each give well-practiced five-minute speeches about large cats, their endangered plight, and Bruce specifically.
I’ve never been prouder of them in my life.
Peter, our host, steps up to the podium next with a flurry of compliments for my girls before he looks at me.
I nod.
“It’s my honor to introduce you to the owners of The Dallas Exotic Learning and Rescue Center,” Peter says.
Willow frowns at me, leans in, and whispers, “What’s this all about? We aren’t scheduled to speak, right?”
The worry in her eyes says she’s second-guessing herself.
I smile. “Relax, darlin’. This is something your dad and I decided. Just let me do the talking.”
I escort her onto the stage, where Peter and the girls are still standing behind us.
Once the rowdy clapping and cheering dies down, I thank everyone for coming and name several people specifically for their donations and assistance. When our story hit the national news, money came pouring in from all over. Donors as big as HeronComm in Chicago and as small as a fire chief in Heart’s Edge, Montana, who said he couldn’t resist after hearing about our mess and always mixing up lions and tigers as a kid.
That’s not even touching our resident billionaires, the Barnets and Larkins, who dug deep in their vast pockets and gave generously. This sanctuary might be the most well-funded little-big animal rescue center ever thanks to their help.
It’s enough to bring a tear to the hardest man’s eye—only I’m too damn nervous to get choked up.
Nothing to do with standing here in the spotlight speaking to all of these fine folks. You get used to that when you manage the town gossip mill and watering hole.
But it feels like there’s no human way to express how fucking much Willow means to me.
How deep my love goes.
How intently I want it to last.
When the noise dies down, I squeeze her hand, flashing her a quick look for courage.
“You know, it was just a few months ago...” I start slowly into the mic. “That’s when I first met this incredible, adventurous lady. I was closing up the bar and saw an old truck in my lot with a stock trailer, just pulling in with no headlights. I went out to see if she was lost, and can you imagine my surprise when I saw—” I point to Bruce. “That in the stock trailer?”
The crowd erupts with laughter.
“Gotta tell you, folks, I’ve been surprised several times since then because of her.” I look at Willow and chuckle along with the crowd. “Turns out, I’ve started liking those surprises, and I’ve made a big decision today. I’ve decided I don’t ever want ’em to end.”
Willow stops laughing and looks at me, her eyes bright-blue gems, wondering what I’m doing as I step away from the mic.
Let’s roll.
I wave the girls over next to me, then pull the box out of my pocket, kneeling down on one knee.
The crowd falls silent, half the womenfolk staring with their mouths hanging open.
My Willow Wisp covers her mouth with both hands as she looks at me.
With a single flick of my thumb, I pop the box open to show off the black onyx and diamond engagement ring. Several hushed gasps float over us, but they won’t stop me. A freight train barreling down on my head couldn’t.
“Willow Macklin, will you marry me? Will you be my wife, my other half, my soul, and mother to my daughters? Will you keep surprising us every day of our lives?”
Long dramatic pause.
My heart stops a few times and restarts as her beautiful face twitches, completely frozen.
Then she floats toward me like the wind, laughing and crying and nodding her head, a chestnut mane of hair spilling out behind her.
“Yes, yes, yes, and yes! Yes to all three of you. Yes to you, Grady. Yes to us. Yes to forever.” She loses it as she throws her arms around my neck, and she’s not alone.
I’m holding back my own man tears. They’re so hot and ferocious it might fucking break me, especially as she looks at me and says, “Talk about surprises! I love you.”
The crowd cheers like some shit from a movie, and after several kisses, I slide the ring on her finger.
Then comes the big family group hug.
Willow and I first before we’re joined by the girls.
Peter wraps his long arms around us last.
I don’t think there’s a dry eye or a mouth not bursting with laughter when a loud roar splits the air. Our last family member joins in.
Bruce.
Who the hell knew cupid was a tiger?
25
Tiger Bride (Willow)
Months Later
“A girl’s wedding should be everything she wants it to be,” Dad says, fussing with his collar for what must be the millionth time as he tries on his tux.
“It already is, Dad. This is a fairy tale come true,” I say, fluttering my lashes. “Look at this place. It’s gorgeous, it’s alive, and I get to be princess for a day.”
We’re standing inside the new visitor center that was just finished and opened last week.
The construction crews kept going all through the long, cold North Dakota winter to have the place ready by spring.
Grady was there every day, too, a guardian angel ensuring it came to life just as I’d wanted when we’d drawn up the plans.
With the help of many friends—mainly Grace Barnet and her fantabulous eye for decoration and design—we’ve turned the center into a one-day wedding marvel.
An artistic ode to our love and to Grady McKnight.
The man I’m marrying tomorrow.
“I want your honeymoon to be fit for a spoiled princess, too,” Dad says with a laugh. “And suitable for Prince Charming incarnate. I asked him if I could plan and pay for your honeymoon, by the way. He agreed, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with a lavish trip to anywhere worth going.”
I look at the folder in my hand, my heartbeat quickening.
“Dad, this is more than a honeymoon.”
“Indeed, Willow girl, it’s the beginning of your lives as man and wife, and our lives as a family.” He kisses my forehead and I suddenly feel so warm I could scream. “I’m picking Jelly and Beans up from school, and then we’re going over to visit Joyce to make sure we’re ready for your big day. So you take that folder up to the house, show it to Grady, and try to get some sleep. Use this time alone to pack so you’ll be ready for your escape ride after the reception.”