The tactical reality of marrying a small-town antique shop owner meant Constable Liam Vance was currently staring down his greatest adversary yet: a linen-bound wedding planner.
The June sun streamed brightly through the windows of the Pinewood Community Center, the very same venue where Bandit had famously intercepted their first real kiss months ago. Today, the large hall was mostly empty, save for a long folding table covered in satin fabric swatches, floral mock-ups, and three different types of cardstock.
"Alright, partner," Liam murmured, adjusting his civilian collar as he looked down at the German Shepherd sitting dutifully by his side. "The ring retrieval was a success, the vet gave you a clean bill of health, and Clara said yes. But if you swallow a single teal tulle bow today, the wedding is off."
Bandit gave a soft, reassuring thump of his tail against the polished hardwood floor. He looked remarkably innocent for a dog who had spent the last twenty-four hours under intense security observation.
The heavy oak doors of the center swung open, and Clara walked in, looking radiant in a casual yellow sundress that made Liam’s heart do its familiar, predictable flip. She was carrying a massive cardboard box that smelled faintly of vanilla frosting and powdered sugar. Behind her trotted Mrs. Gable, Pinewood’s premier wedding coordinator and a woman who ran community events with the strict discipline of a military general.
"Look who I found trying to sneak into the kitchen," Clara called out, her eyes crinkling with that warm, musical laugh Liam loved so much.
"I was merely supervising the logistical arrival of the pastries," Liam joked, stepping forward to take the heavy box from her hands. He set it down with surgical precision on the edge of the table, well out of reach of a certain hundred-pound tracking dog.
"Good morning, Constable," Mrs. Gable said, her sharp eyes scanning the room like a highway patrol officer looking for speeders. She unclipped a ballpoint pen from her clipboard. "We have exactly two months until the big day, and we are severely behind schedule on the seating arrangements. Plus, we still haven't settled on the role of the... canine attendant."
Bandit let out a sharp, authoritative bark, as if asserting his right to be the best man.
"He wants to carry the rings again," Clara teased, gently squeezing Liam's hand. "Though I think we'll opt for a secure velvet pouch with a triple-knot this time."
"Absolutely not," Mrs. Gable interrupted, tapping her clipboard. "Animals in the main ceremony are a liability. Last year, the Miller wedding had a golden retriever trip the videographer into the chocolate fountain. Total operational failure. Bandit stays in the pavilion."
Liam opened his mouth to defend his partner, but before he could speak, a sudden commotion echoed from the back of the building. The industrial kitchen doors burst open, and the local baker, a frantic young man named Toby, ran out clutching a flour-dusted apron.
"Mrs. Gable! Constable! We have a localized tier-one disaster!" Toby gasped, wiping sweat from his forehead. "The cooling racks for the sample cupcakes collapsed! The decorative icing station is a total zone of chaos!"
Mrs. Gable sighed heavily, her professional composure fracturing for a fraction of a second. "Duty calls. Clara, Liam, stay here and finalize the fabric choices. I will handle the bakery breach." She marched off toward the kitchen like a Mountie heading into a snowstorm.
With the coordinator gone, the tension in the room instantly melted away. Liam pulled Clara into his arms, breathing in the scent of lavender and vanilla. "Alone at last," he whispered, leaning down. "No runaway snowplows, no stray cats, and no missing children."
"Don't challenge the universe, Liam," Clara giggled, tilting her head up.
Their lips were barely an inch apart when Bandit, sensing the shift in romantic energy, decided to act. But instead of shoving his furry snout between their faces, the massive dog lunged toward the table. A rogue plastic balloon ribbon had caught the draft from the open door, drifting lazily across the satin swatches.
Intent on retrieving the stray plastic litter, Bandit leaped. His heavy front paws caught the edge of the unsecured folding table.
In a slow-motion catastrophe straight out of a movie, the entire table flipped forward. Baskets of floral arrangements rained down. The massive box of sample wedding cupcakes slid off the edge, launching a colorful arc of pink, teal, and white frosted baked goods directly into the air.
Liam lunged forward on his hands and knees to save the primary planner binder. Clara jumped backward, her hands flying to her mouth.
SPLAT.
A beautifully decorated, extra-large vanilla cupcake loaded with heavy cream-colored frosting dropped with pinpoint accuracy, landing squarely on the shoulder of Liam's sharp casual blazer. It slid down the fabric, leaving a thick, sticky trail of sugar in its wake.
Silence fell over the community center. Bandit landed gracefully on all four paws, a dollop of pink frosting sitting perfectly on the tip of nose. He gave a victorious shake of his head, licked the frosting clean, and sat down to offer a front paw.
Liam froze on the floor, staring at his domestic partner in absolute, defeated horror. He looked up at Clara, a mixture of a groan and a genuine smile escaping his throat.
"I swear I cleared the area of loose furniture," Liam muttered, rubbing his temples as he surveyed the frosted wreckage. "But clearly, our partner wants to be the ultimate wedding planner."
Clara stared at him for three agonizing seconds before her shoulders started shaking. She threw her head back and let out a laugh so loud it echoed across the rafters of the high ceiling. She walked over through the sea of fallen satin swatches, pulled a thoroughly embarrassed Mountie to his feet, and wrapped her arms around his neck, frosting and all.
"Liam Vance," she said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye as she looked at his ruined blazer. "Two years of dating taught me to expect this. I guess three's a crowd, even at our own tastings. But you are entirely responsible for cleaning the community center floor before Mrs. Gable returns."
Liam smiled, kissing her deeply as the afternoon sun warmed the hall. The Mountie had gotten his girl, even if his four-legged shadow insisted on keeping tight security over the seating chart.
