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Take It Off the Menu
By Christina Hovland

Chapter One
Two Days Before the Wedding

“Lothario, stop humping the angora,” Marlee Medford—soon-to-be Bishop—stepped onto the patio of her Denver townhome. Her pure-white-haired chihuahua tipped his head to the side, stopped humping her fiancé’s angora sweater that had fallen to the ground, and whined.
Leaves from their two aspen trees rustled beside her—red and orange and ready to break free from their branches in preparation for winter.
She snatched the sweater, brushed a couple of fallen leaves from the sleeve, and hung it over the arm of the empty chair next to Scotty. He was immersed in his phone, apparently oblivious to the defiling of his clothes.
Lothario had a thing for Scotty’s shirts, and it drove Scotty absolutely nuts. Aside from Scotty’s clothing, Lothario literally humped anything that moved. Except Marlee. She’d put a stop to that early on. One would’ve thought that Lothario’s recent unfortunate experience with a moving bicycle tire would’ve stopped the behavior, but all it got him was a cast on his right leg and a rededication to defiling all things.
She turned her focus from the dog to Scotty. He had his serious face on that morning.
“Hey, sweetie.” She squeezed his shoulders and kissed his cheek before sitting next to him with her morning coffee. “I’ve only got a second. I have a bajillion things to do today for the wedding.”
Their wedding.
Their forty-eight-hours-away nuptials.
“Leelee.” He set his phone down beside his coffee mug. “We need to talk about the wedding.”
“Okay.” She squeezed his hands. “What’s up?”
“I don’t want to do it.” He glanced to the side, not meeting her eyes.
That wasn’t exactly a choice anymore. Not with four hundred of their closest friends coming to Denver for their wedding.
“We’re not getting married, Leelee.” He heaved a huge breath. “I’m sorry.”
She dropped his hands. What?
“We’re not getting married?” she asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”
He was sorry? He was sorry?