Hailey Makes The Boy Bride Today

The loser of the bet was Leo Barns, a quiet, gentle-natured carpenter who had foolishly wagered that his handcrafted bridge could outlast Hailey’s temper in a storm. It hadn’t. The bridge held, but Hailey’s resolve was iron. So Leo, all six feet of flannel and sawdust, found himself standing at the altar of the Pineridge Community Church, wearing a flowing ivory gown that Hailey had ordered from the city.

He’d lost the bet on purpose. The bridge was perfect. Hailey Makes The Boy Bride

“Let them stare,” Hailey said. She picked up a bouquet of wildflowers—his bouquet—and pressed it into his calloused hands. “You lost fair and square. Now, smile. You’re a beautiful bride.” The loser of the bet was Leo Barns,

“You know,” he said, “most men give their wife a ring.” So Leo, all six feet of flannel and

At midnight, as they walked home past the very bridge he’d built, Leo stopped. He looked down at the dress, then at her.

“I want a wedding,” Hailey had announced at the town council meeting, her boots up on the oak table. “And I’m not the one wearing the dress.”