But Katie and Maureen, their confidence crippled by the near-disaster of losing their first venue because Katie’s dad, Maureen’s ex-husband, had bounced a check, were amenable to almost any suggestion Shannon made. When Katie expressed a desire, she did it as a request, tendered shyly, as if she were terrified Shannon would be offended and throw them out, leaving Katie and her beloved to get married on the streets.
Alerted to the money trouble—or just a jerk ex-husband—Shannon had also been direct and firm about the need for full payment up front, and Maureen had not balked. It all added up to Shannon being able to plan a wedding in every way she considered to be tasteful and right, taking into consideration the things Katie wanted most in her day. She’d never had so much fun at work. Katie was a fan of pastels, which wasn’t entirely appropriate for a fall wedding, but they’d made it work, with a palette of muted salmon, soft gold, and sage green. Katie’s dress was vintage—authentically vintage, an heirloom from her great-grandmother and naturally, beautifully aged to a pale cream—and the men would be in dark navy suits. Shannon was bringing a photographer friend in from Tulsa, because she wanted good photos of this wedding for the brochure and website she was designing.
Assuming good weather, they’d be married in the Craftsman-style gazebo in the garden, with seats for just shy of fifty guests arranged in the aisles from all four directions around the gazebo. If the weather worked against them, they’d be married in the dining room, and then the staff would do an efficiently planned and carefully rehearsed flip of the room to set it up for the reception while the guests had cocktails in the parlor.
Katie and Jordan were more or less local, coming from Springfield, so none of the guests were staying over, but the whole inn was booked with the wedding party, who’d all checked in the day before. The wedding was the next afternoon. Today was the main crush of setup, so she’d encouraged the bride and groom to take their respective parties out for the day. The men had opted for a hunt (Shannon hoped like crazy nobody came back to the inn with a dead deer, but she was ready if they did), and the women were going into town for shopping.
Now, though, they were all in the dining room having breakfast, and Shannon was standing out on the front porch, enjoying the sharp, almost frosty chill of the fall morning, drinking her second big cup of coffee. God was smiling down on this wedding. It was a beautiful, clear day, the weather forecast showed nothing but clear skies for a week, and the leaves had decided to take on their brilliant fall wardrobe as if especially for Katie. Their gorgeous garden wedding, with flowers still abloom, would have a background of vivid fall foliage.
Everything was perfect but one thing: the horse and carriage. Lilli had bought a lovely used carriage, and Badger had painted and polished it to a high black gleam. It could not be better. But the fancy harness Lilli had ordered had been defective, and they’d had to send it back. The replacement was not in yet, and the harness that had come with the carriage was not attractive. It was worn and workaday, and no amount of flowery garland was going to make it better. Katie had indeed nearly swooned when Shannon had told her she could make her entrance to the garden in that carriage, and Shannon would hate for it not to be perfect.
As she stood there, looking out over the grounds, watching the horses running off their night’s sleep in the paddock, she saw Show’s pickup crest the rise on the long drive and head down toward the barn. It was early, and he was in his truck, so that meant work. Dare she hope? There seemed to be something in the bed of the truck. Oh, she hoped. She walked to the steps and stopped, watching, as he parked and yelled for Badger.
Badger came through the main barn door, and they both walked back to the truck bed and pulled back a tarp. Yes! The new harness! This wedding was going to be perfect and put the Keller Acres Bed & Breakfast on the map! Shannon couldn’t help herself. She did a little happy dance, shimmying her hips and shoulders, as she giggled.
When she got that out of her system, she looked back over to Show’s truck and saw him and Badger both staring at her, rooted in place. That was embarrassing. Oh, well. She decided to own it, and she lifted her mug and grinned. The barn was a ways off from the house, but she saw Badger turn fast, as if he’d been caught being naughty. Knowing him, his face was beet red. But Show—Show was smiling. She was sure of it. He gave her a nod, and he and Badge carried the harness into the barn.
She’d made him smile.
She turned and went back into the house, through the parlor and into the kitchen. The cook staff of three, including Beth, her chef, were winding up the breakfast meal and beginning to prep for the wedding meal. Trying not to get in their way, she searched the rows of shelves for the big picnic thermos. She didn’t see it.
From behind her, she heard Beth’s deep, smoky voice. “What, Shannon? We’re busy here.” She looked like a lunch lady and acted like a drill sergeant, but she was an amazingly talented, elegant chef and baker—nothing that resembled haute cuisine, but wonderful food, beautifully presented. She was town, and Lilli had hired her on word of mouth reputation. She’d never run a professional kitchen before this one, but she’d worked as a waitress at the Chop House. More to the point, she’d raised and fed six boys and seemed to be born for this job.
Technically, Shannon was Beth’s boss, but in the kitchen, she was an intruder. She turned and smiled. “Looking for the big thermos. I want to take coffee down to the barn for the boys.”
Beth wiped her hands on her apron and pushed Shannon aside, sliding open a cabinet under the prep counter. She pulled out the big pump thermos. “Here. S’pose that means you’re draining the pot, too, then.”
Shannon hadn’t thought of that. She’d only thought of an excuse to go down to the barn. She supposed the harness itself was excuse enough. “Hadn’t thought of that. Never mind, then.”
But Beth was already filling the thermos. “It’s fine. I’ve got the other pot brewing anyway. But tell Badger I know how many damn muffins I bake, so he’s not gettin’ away with nothin’ when he’s sneakin’ around up here.”
Laughing, Shannon took the full thermos. “I’ll do that. Thanks. You need anything from me?”
“I do not.”
Shannon nodded and turned toward the door. But Beth called, “Shannon?”
She turned around. “Yeah?”
“How they gonna drink that coffee, you think?” Beth reached up and pulled a stack of big, disposable coffee cups from a shelf. “Here. They’ll have to drink it black, though.”
Shannon felt herself blush a little as she took the cups. “Black is probably fine.” Beth nodded and went back to her work, dismissing Shannon with a wave.
Shannon took the thermos and paper cups down to the barn, glad again that, despite the inn full of wedding party, she’d dressed casually for this day of hard work—low-heeled boots, boot-cut jeans, and a cardigan over a white button-down blouse, left untucked. She’d caught her hair off her face with a narrow silk scarf. Traipsing across the gravel and grass of the inn grounds in pumps was a good way to sprain an ankle, and today was a day she’d be doing a lot of traipsing.
When she went into the barn, Show and Badger had hung the harness on the wall and were checking it closely. Badger was so close, in fact, that one might think he was examining it with a jeweler’s loupe. As she walked down the aisle between the horse stalls—all of them empty while the horses were loose in the pasture—she called out, “How’s it look, guys?”
Show turned at her voice, but he didn’t look at her. She was disappointed at that; she’d hoped maybe that smile meant he was warming a little. He’d been even more reserved in the past few weeks, though, hardly around at all, and staying near the barn, away from the house, when he was.
But he answered her question. “Won’t be sure until we get it rigged up, but it looks good—right, Badge?”
Badger looked back at Show and then at Shannon. “Yep. I want to get Eddie harnessed up and make sure, but I think we’re good.” Badger was an unlikely choice for live
stock manager. He was young—just twenty-one—and skinny, with long, straight auburn hair he wore in a ponytail, but Lilli’s instincts to hire him had been good—they were seemingly always good. She’d given people jobs at the inn who never would have been given these opportunities at more established facilities, and as far as Shannon could tell, she hadn’t missed one step.
They had six horses and nine goats, and Badger loved them all like his own children. He knew his stuff, too. He’d gotten two of the horses under saddle himself and had them fit for intermediate riders. He led trail rides for guests through the adjacent woods, riding a big, beautiful, black mare named Gypsy. He was in the process of training a border collie pup to herd the goats for him—more as a hobby than an actual necessity. The nine goats were a docile, compliant, ragtag bunch, all of them rescue animals, so all of them altered. They didn’t need a herd dog. But the pup, Weasel, was cute, and Badger was having a good time.
He was shy and sweet and, as far as Shannon could see, ink-free, so, despite his long hair and his Harley ride, he didn’t seem the type to be prospecting for the MC, but he was. As a Prospect, he’d taken a fair amount of grief from the members, but Show didn’t seem to be one to lay that on him. Shannon liked that. She felt a little maternal toward Badge, and it got her hackles up when the guys yelled at him just because they could.
“That’s great news! The bride is going to be ecstatic.” She held up the thermos. “I brought coffee out for you boys. Can I interest you in a cup of Beth’s fresh brew?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and set the thermos on a work table and pumped some out into one of the disposable cups. She handed Badger the first cup, even though he was farther away. He looked a little awkward at Show being passed over, but then he took the cup with a grin and a nod. Shannon filled another cup and turned to Show.
“I didn’t bring sugar or cream down. Sorry.” She held out the cup.
“S’okay—I take it black.” His hand dwarfed hers as well as the cup she offered—there was no way they could both hold the cup, even for the brief moment it took to pass it from one hand to the other, without touching. She gasped a little, just an intake of breath, at his hot, calloused fingers on her hand. His thumb covered hers, its nail wide, blunt, and flat. He had the hands of a man who knew hard work.
She’d held on a beat too long, and he pulled on the cup. “Black’s fine, hon.”
“Oh, sorry.” She let go and looked up into his face. She found his eyes on her.
“Thanks. For the coffee.” He smiled a little, one corner of his mouth coming up a fraction of an inch. Then he took a drink, and the moment was gone.
Shannon composed herself quickly and, feeling blushy and awkward, she said, “No problem. I’ll be back down for the thermos later.” She turned to Badger. “Let me know if you have any problems with that thing.” Badger nodded, and Shannon turned and walked out of the barn, feeling like she’d managed somehow to make a fool of herself in those few minutes.
~oOo~
Two hours later, she’d seen the wedding party off on their various adventures for the day, and she and Beth were in the dining room running one more time through the seating chart. Katie had come to her in a crisis not five minutes after Shannon had gotten back from the barn, remembering that two cousins she’d seated at the same table had come to blows and started a melee at the last family function.
Wonderful.
So they rearranged the seating, and now Shannon knew to have the staff keep an eye out for anybody looking especially scrappy tomorrow evening. A brawl, inevitably caught on somebody’s phone and uploaded to the internet at the earliest possible opportunity, was not the kind of publicity Shannon was hoping this wedding would bring.
That crisis hopefully averted, Beth went back to the kitchen, and Shannon headed back to the front desk. Show was standing in the middle of the parlor, dangling the thermos by its handle and looking generally uncomfortable. When he saw her, he took a couple of steps her way and stopped, holding up the thermos.
“Brought this back. Didn’t know where to put it, though.”
She’d said she would go back down to the barn to pick it up. She was sure he’d heard her. So this was either nothing more than simple chivalry, saving her a trip, or the coffee was providing him the same kind of excuse to see her as it had provided her to see him. Though she knew it was probably the former, she decided to play on the latter. She wanted to get to know this guy. He was obviously not going to make a move. But she had skills. And assets.
She took the empty thermos from him and laid her hand on his arm. Oh, wow. His forearm was huge. She’d seen it, of course. Until the weather had taken on a bit of fall chill, and he’d started wearing plaid flannel shirts like the one he was wearing under his kutte today, his arms had almost always been bare. But she’d never felt the steely cords of muscle before. Oh, wow.
“Thanks, Show. You didn’t have to do this. I’d’ve gone down for it later on.”
He shrugged, looking down at her hand on his arm. He moved away. “I’m heading out. No problem to swing it by.”
Deciding not to try right this second to figure out what it meant that he’d moved away from her touch, Shannon asked, “The harness work out? Everything ready with the carriage?”
He nodded. “Looks good.” He started to say more, then stopped. Shannon waited, and he started again. “Edgar’s mane’s looking pretty shabby. Badge’s been trying to even it out, but the one thing he can’t do with a horse is pull a mane. You got anybody else can do it?”
Shannon shook her head. She’d grown up a country girl and had ridden her share of horses, but she’d never gone in for the fancy stuff. The most she’d ever done to a horse’s mane is comb it. And before coming to Signal Bend, she hadn’t been near a horse in twenty years.
“I can do it. I’ll come over tomorrow morning. You got ribbon or something to match the wedding? I can pretty him up some.”
“You can do a horse’s hair?” She couldn’t help but smile. That was maybe the most incongruous image she’d ever had in her head—this mountain of a biker with hands the size of pie plates braiding satin ribbons into Edgar’s mane.
He almost smiled back. “I can pull and braid a mane. You want the help or not?” Even if the smile hadn’t made his face, she could hear it in his voice.
“It would be great, Show. Really. I have more ribbon than I know what to do with.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
They’d just had, by far, the longest conversation they’d had in the four months since she’d met him. Knowing very well she was pushing it, but in too good a mood and feeling too attracted to him to resist, she took the step that brought her right up to him, rose up on her tiptoes, her hand on his broad wall of a chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His skin was rough with stubble above the line of his long goatee. He smelled…enticing. Like a man. He went rigid as soon as she’d put her hand on his chest, but she followed through, working hard to appear oblivious to his discomfort.
“Thank you, Show. That’s a huge help. I’ll see you in the morning.” She went around him and back to her office.
~oOo~
True to his word, he was there in the morning. When Shannon went outside after breakfast, for her customary coffee on the front porch, his truck was already parked near the barn. She went in and grabbed the ribbons from behind the desk, and then headed down. She’d spent a good portion of her quiet time the previous evening thinking about him and their interaction that day, and she’d decided that she needed to try to make something happen or move on.
Badger was oiling the new harness, and Show had Edgar tied in the center aisle. Edgar was a decent-size roan gelding. Not a bad-looking horse, but nothing special. Shannon leaned against the edge of the big door and watched for a minute. Show had been there awhile—most of the mane was already neat and even. He was talking to the horse while he worked, his voice low and smooth. Edgar seemed to be dozing, though every now and then he�
�d shake his head and neck a little.
She walked in. “Still surprised you know how to do that.”
With his hands still in Edgar’s mane, he turned his head her way. “Girl I was with in high school showed, but she was little and had to stand on a stool to work her horse’s mane. I learned to do it for her. Stays with you.”
“Was she properly appreciative of your efforts?” Bold, she knew. But bold was the plan.
She’d surprised him, and he turned to her again. Then, with that little almost-smile from yesterday, he said, “She was.”
She smiled back, a full smile into which she put as much meaning as she knew how. “That’s good, then.” Waving the hand that held the bolts of ribbon, she added, “I brought the ribbons. What do you want me to do with them?”
He nodded over Edgar’s neck toward a shelf. “Set ‘em over there. What kind of braid do you want?”
“What can you do?”
“Nothing fancy. Simple braids. Or buttons. Or loops. I can’t fishtail or any of that English crap.”
“The harness is going to have a garland of flowers over it. Could you braid a couple of colors of ribbon into loops so that they’ll match the flowers?”
Show muttered to the horse, “First they take your manhood, and then they take your dignity. I know, boy.” To Shannon, he said. “Yep. I can do that. Edgar says no pink, though. Not enough apples in the world for pink.”
Into the Storm Page 4
