Prancing Bride

“What happened? What made you upset?” Owen asked softly, caressing the ceramic face and making the flowers move as if he were removing them. After all, his other hand held onto a fresh bouquet of the new seasonal flowers. “Talk to me.”

“Did you skip on me today so you can go and pick flowers for me?” Milan only laughed as he held a flower that remained on its stalk.

Owen nodded as he worked on arranging them so they would look like a proper bouquet on the bride’s face. He didn’t care if they were in the middle of the road or if the Divine Bride was pressing his body against a farmer's apprentice. If someone had a problem, they should be prepared to be ignored.

That was exactly what was happening to Ferell. He would make himself more noticeable and clear his throat, but he only watched the scene. This Owen Bloodworth was not a simple personality. After all, he was the nephew of the Sheriff.