“I don’t know why he’s wasting his efforts on those three,” Molly muttered under her breath. “They won’t be booking a wedding.”
“You jealous?” Bridget asked.
Molly rolled her eyes.
“I have an idea,” Bridget said to Owen when the young women were finally on their way. “Why don’t you and Molly check out the festival? She has a hangry headache—part hungry and part angry.”
“I’m not hangry.” All right, just a little. “And anyway, you can’t handle the table and the horses by yourself.”
“Big Jim will help me.”
Molly glanced in the direction her sister indicated. Their former part-time employee and his wife strolled toward them, smiles on their faces.
As Bridget predicted, Big Jim was glad to lend a hand. His wife needed a short rest anyway and sat at the table with Bridget. She reported she was feeling better, but her energy level hadn’t yet returned to normal.
“It’s settled.” Bridget shooed Molly and Owen away.
Molly didn’t object. She really was hungry, and her headache throbbed.
“This way,” Owen said and captured her hand.
Seeing Bridget’s self-satisfied grin, Molly realized too late her sister was playing matchmaker.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THEY STOPPED IN front of the row of food vendor trucks.
“Chicken on a stick, street tacos, barbecue brisket or fry bread?” Owen asked. “You have your pick.”
“Give me a second to decide.” Molly scanned the various menus posted in large print.
To their left was a dining area with plastic folding tables and chairs. Placed among the tables and chairs were tall stainless steel propane heaters, each one emitting streams of warm air. Molly wasn’t sure which she was more desperate for, sustenance or relief from the cold.
Funny, she’d been less aware of the temperature drop while Owen was holding her hand. He’d let go the moment they approached the food trucks.
As if reading her mind, he leaned closer to her until their shoulders bumped. “I hear the barbecue is good.”
“It is.”
“You’ve had it before?”
“Often. I-Hart-Catering is owned by Frankie Hart. She used to work at the Cowboy Up Café and quit a while back to start her own catering company.”
“Another successful small business owner. You O’Malleys are in good company.”
“You say that like you haven’t abandoned the idea of owning your own business.”
“I haven’t. It’s just not in the cards for me right now. Hopefully, when the kids are older. Like through college.”
“How’d your meeting with Craft-Right go? I should have asked you earlier.”
“Okay.”
She heard hesitation in his voice. “Only okay?”
“Let’s talk over dinner.”
The way he said dinner sounded like they were on a date. Molly reminded herself they were merely eating together.
“I recommend the brisket.” The sweet, spicy aroma of Frankie’s secret sauce had Molly’s mouth watering.
“You’ve convinced me.”
“Didn’t you eat earlier with your children?”
“I wasn’t in the mood for corn dogs.”
He stayed glued to her side while they moved forward in line. Occasionally, his fingers would not-quite-accidentally brush her arm or he’d lower his mouth to her ear in order to be heard above the noise. Each small contact or warm breath caressing her skin made her pulse quicken.
She told herself she wasn’t like those silly college girls fawning over him. Yet with every passing moment, she resembled them more and more, laughing at his remarks and basking in his attention.
By the time they reached the truck’s order window, Molly had forgotten all about her hangry headache.
“Hi, Molly!” From behind the glass window, Frankie bent slightly to address her. She wore a white apron over her Christmas sweater, the belt double-wrapped and tied in front. “How goes it?”
“Excellent. There’s a good crowd tonight, and we’ve had a lot of people stop at our table.” She didn’t add that Owen’s presence was responsible. “What about you?”
“We’ll sell out soon at this rate.”
“Do you have enough brisket left for two orders?”
“Absolutely.” At the mention of two, Frankie tilted her head to better see who had accompanied Molly. “Is this the new wedding guy?”
“Temporary wedding guy. Until Homer and Grandma return.”
“I heard they eloped. Who’d have guessed? Dad’s belonged to Homer’s church for years and had no idea.”
“Neither did any of us.”
“Give your grandmother my best when you talk to her next. Are they having a party when they get home?”
“I will. And, yes, they are. Look for an invitation.”
“I’d love to supply some of the food. As a wedding gift, of course. Free of charge.”
“That’s very generous of you. I’ll pass it on.”
“Now, introduce me to your friend.” Frankie emphasized the last two words in a way that suggested Owen was a lot more than a friend to Molly.
“Owen Caufield.” He tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Call me Frankie. And I’m pleased to meet you, too.” Her glance darted questioningly between Molly and Owen.
Molly shook her head.
“Right.” Frankie’s grin said she didn’t believe Molly.
She wasn’t alone. Molly didn’t believe herself, either.
“Two orders of brisket with all the fixings,” Frankie called out to her helpers.
Owen insisted on paying, though Molly tried to contribute her half. She and Owen bid Frankie goodbye and moved to the pickup window at the other end of the truck. While Owen waited for their food, Molly grabbed napkins, plastic forks and straws.
Their order was delivered quickly, arriving in paper boats. At the first whiff, Molly’s stomach nearly climbed up her throat. She couldn’t wait and snuck a quick bite on their walk to a table. Owen found two empty seats near the center of the dining area and right beside a heater.
“Hey, check that out.” Owen nodded toward a large screen at the far end of the food court.
“It’s the kiss cam.”
Molly recalled the gimmick from last year. A camera operator strolled the festival grounds taking videos of couples kissing, which then appeared on the big screen.
“Someone at the petting zoo mentioned there was a proposal last year.”
“Yeah.” Molly swallowed a forkful of brisket, thinking she’d died and gone to heaven. “Grandma was here and told us all about it.”
“If that happens again, maybe the ranch could offer the couple a discount.”
She stopped eating to look at him. “Do you always have such good ideas?”
“What I do for a living.” He shoveled a generous bite into his mouth. “Oh, wow. This is good.”
“Best in the valley.”
Owen grabbed a napkin. “Frankie seems nice.”
“She is. Her younger sister and Bridget are friends.” Molly took a sip of her soda. She’d eaten enough that her hunger was marginally sated. “They hung out together a lot during the summers when we stayed with Grandma and Grandpa.”
“That must have been nice for you, already knowing people when you moved here.”
“It was. Though I haven’t had much time for socializing. Turns out running a wedding ranch is time consuming.”
“Things won’t be letting up, either. The magazine article is bound to generate business.”
“I hope. One can never predict. We might bomb despite our best efforts.” Molly sampled her coleslaw. “I really wish Grandma was here for the interview. S
he’s the owner and founder of the ranch. Seems a shame not to include her.”
“Any chance the magazine can delay the interview?”
“Not a prayer. I’m told their production schedule is set in stone.”
“How did you all decide on a Western-themed wedding venue anyway?” Owen asked.
“It was Grandma’s idea. She hosted several weddings in the past for friends and family. Word got out and she began getting requests.”
“Let me guess. Being a smart business woman, she recognized a need and the idea for Sweetheart Ranch was born.”
“Pretty much. Six months into the renovations, she asked Bridget and me to join her.”
“And as they say, the rest is history.”
Molly took a sip of her soda. “What happened at your meeting with Craft-Right? Did they offer you the job?”
Owen wiped barbecue sauce from his face and hands. “Not exactly, but they probably will. If the board agrees, they’ll present me with a formal offer on Monday.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The board still needs to vote.”
Molly studied him. “Why am I sensing hesitancy?”
He shrugged. “The starting salary is lower than I’d hoped for, but they do offer decent benefits and pay quarterly bonuses.”
“Money isn’t everything. There’s job satisfaction.” Molly was happier at Sweetheart Ranch than any of her former jobs. She loved being part of a business from the ground up and having a vested interest in the business’s success.
“True,” Owen admitted. “Job satisfaction is important. I like the way Craft-Right runs their operation, and their product is first-rate. Best on the market. The location is all right, too.”
“Is it the traveling?”
“I was assured no more than two days a week on the road.”
“I’m not hearing any negatives.”
Owen pushed his empty paper boat away. “You want my honest answer?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“This would be a good job for me. Other than a lower salary, it meets all my requirements. In addition, the hours are reasonable, leaving me plenty of time for the kids. Most importantly, I’d be employed. That matters to me for a lot of reasons, pride among them. I don’t like being out of work. It goes against my nature. There’s also the matter of us.”
“Us?” she asked hesitantly.
“I wouldn’t ask you to get involved when I have nothing to offer.”
“Please don’t factor me or us into your decision. You have to do what’s best for you and your children and only you and your children.”
“You’re right. And what’s best for them and me is that I’m employed.”
“I hear a but.”
“I like sales and I’m good at it. I’m also weary of the grind.” He offered her a weak smile. “That’s the first time I’ve admitted it. To myself or anyone.”
Molly sympathized with him. She’d felt much like he did about her last job. But he was right in that he did need to work.
“Maybe you could take the job at Craft-Right and keep looking elsewhere. You might discover you like it there.”
“Maybe.” Using the side of his hand, he brushed crumbs off the table. “Can we change the subject? I don’t want to ruin our date.”
“Not a date,” she reminded him, yet her heart kicked into higher gear at the mention of the word.
“It could be.”
“Not yet. We still have our goals. Mine is to Sweetheart Ranch. Yours is to improve your relationship with your children. Those have to come first.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Just look at all the progress you’ve made, Owen. I can see it.”
“Thanks to you and your willingness to bend.” His voice took on a husky quality. “For a while, I thought I’d lost them.”
Molly was touched. “I’m glad.”
“And you. You’re doing an incredible job.”
“I really love what I do and want to be the best at it. For Grandma’s sake as well as my own. Someday, when she’s ready to retire, my dream is to run Sweetheart Ranch with Bridget.” She sat up straight. “Not have my head in the clouds over some guy.”
“Some guy being me?” The glint reappeared in Owen’s eyes.
“Yes,” she confessed. “Some guy being you.”
“People hold down jobs and have romantic relationships all the time.”
“It hasn’t worked well for me in the past. I quit my last job because my boss was about to fire me. I was fired from the job before that. If Grandma Em hadn’t called and asked me to come to Mustang Valley, who knows what I would have done,”
“People bounce around from job to job early in their careers.”
“Fired, Owen. I was fired. And Grandma saved me. I owe her. At the very least, I owe her my complete attention while Sweetheart Ranch is launching.”
“What would she say if she knew about us?”
There was no “us,” though Molly didn’t correct him. “She’d give me an evening off and say go for it. But Grandma just eloped. She’d like to see everyone in love and happy like her.”
He reached across the table for her hand and folded it inside his. “I like you, Molly. I’m pretty sure you like me, too. Can’t we at least explore the possibilities? Once I have a job,” he added.
The sincerity of his words, combined with the hope in his voice and his strong fingers curling around hers, was difficult—no, impossible—to resist.
“What are you doing Christmas night?” she asked, surprising herself.
“Um, I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. Packing to leave the ranch, I guess.”
She suddenly didn’t want him to be alone on that most special of days. “Come have dinner with us. That is, if you don’t mind sitting through a very long and possibly boring-for-you present opening session.”
“Nothing I’d like better.”
They shared a smile and a look that went on and on.
“How about a kiss for the kiss cam?” A young man pointed a video camera directly at them.
“We’re not a couple—”
Her protest died when Owen leaned in and covered her mouth with his.
* * *
“HOW CAN WE possibly finish in time?” Molly was very aware her voice had risen a full octave. “We must have been crazy to agree to this.”
“Relax.” Bridget refastened a bow to the back of the last pew. “We’ll manage. Just like we always do.”
“I don’t know how.” Molly furiously rubbed a soft cloth over a silver candlestick, attempting to remove a barely visible speck of tarnish. “We shouldn’t have spent all weekend at the festival. It would have been better to get ready for the magazine interview tomorrow instead. They’re going to be here at one.” As if her sister didn’t already know that.
“Are you kidding! Five new appointments this week alone and a wedding in March. All from the festival.”
“One wedding.” The speck of tarnish defied Molly’s efforts. “Three full days, a ton of hard work, and that’s all we have to show for it.”
“Quit being a Debbie Downer. You know most promotion efforts don’t have instant results. We passed out five hundred flyers, at least, and collected almost as many email addresses.”
Molly’s goal was to send out a monthly newsletter, a project she’d tackle once they survived the holidays, the vow renewal ceremony and this blasted interview.
“You’re just worried because Grandma’s coming home soon,” Bridget said, “and you wanted to show her a filled appointment calendar.”
Not wrong. They’d been talking to Grandma Em with increasing regularity these last few days as the end of her and Homer’s trip neared. They were due to arrive on Wednesday, Thursday at the
latest. Grandma seemed to have returned to Earth after spending weeks on cloud nine. Suddenly, she was all business again and voicing concerns about vacancies and the number of package deals sold.
That was good and not so good. Last evening, Molly had burned the midnight oil updating the financial records. While they’d taken in decent revenues since their grand opening, the ranch continued to operate in the red. Grandma Em had assured Molly businesses often lost money during their first years of operation, and Sweetheart Ranch had been open less than a month.
Molly longed to be the exception to the rule, to prove Grandma Em had been right in hiring her.
“I’m leaving shortly to do some shopping.” Molly moved to the next candlestick.
Bridget was picking dead leaves from the poinsettias and turning the pots so that the plants’ best sides were showing. “Where are you going?”
“The nursery, for wreaths to hang on the gate.”
“We have wreaths.”
“Some of the needles are turning brown.”
“Stop obsessing. It’s fine.”
“What are you baking for them?” “Them” being the magazine’s columnist and photographer.
“Pumpkin squares and strawberry-and-cream truffles in case one of them is gluten intolerant.”
“Do you think we should offer them a carriage ride?”
Molly was undecided. Then again, she’d been attempting to put Owen and all things associated with him from her mind since Friday night at the festival and their very public kiss.
How she could have completely forgotten they were seated among a hundred people and being filmed was beyond her. Yet, she had forgotten from the moment their mouths connected. He alone could do that to her.
“Definitely,” Bridget said. “They may not want to go, but we should certainly have the horses harnessed and ready. For pictures if nothing else. We’re the only wedding venue in the state to offer on-site carriage and hayrides, which is probably the reason we’re in Southwest Bride’s top ten.”
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