They drove along Willow toward the bridge at the edge of downtown.
“How did you spend your summers as a kid?” she asked.
“At home.” He supposed he should ask her some questions, if only to deflect her from asking any of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know more about her. It was that he wanted it too much. But especially, he didn’t want to start sharing, because that might open up topics he wanted to keep closed off.
“What—” they both said at the same time.
“Jinx,” she said. “Aunt June used to say you’d owe me a lemonade. Think they’ll have lemonade at the wedding reception? I hope they have pink lemonade. Or a Shirley Temple. I’m a sucker for those.”
At least she’d changed the subject without his having to.
“Mrs. Davis got me started on Shirley Temples,” she continued. “You two are close, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“I just did.” A tiny hint of exasperation crept into her cheery tone. “You sure have put on the Montana Man persona. Aunt June said you’re from California. Marin County, like me.”
Right. Those two women—Mrs. G and Mrs. D—knew pretty much everything there was to know in this town. He just hoped that was all that had been shared about him. Most didn’t know much beyond that, at least.
“Yep.”
A laugh twinkled from her, easing his shoulders and the prickles of discomfort that had been jabbing him.
“Guessing these Sunday clothes aren’t your usual?”
“Nope.” He almost laughed at himself for how one-word-answer he was being. Instead he focused on joining the line of cars heading across the bridge and to the church parking lot. He was kind of surprised he hadn’t been roped in for that duty. But then it seemed Mrs. D had another kind of evening planned for him. To what end, he didn’t know, and didn’t really want to think about.
Mrs. D might think she’d get her way, but not if her way was to set him up with Dolly Gallagher.
“Wow, Mrs. Davis wasn’t kidding. Seems like almost the whole town is here. Though I guess not. Population 2,052 the sign said when I drove in. Probably there’re only about five hundred here. What do you think?”
“Hard to tell.” It was enough to cause a traffic jam. Nothing like they had in the San Francisco Bay Area, of course. He was glad to be out of there—too crowded for his liking, though it had been less so as he’d been growing up than he’d heard it was now.
“I haven’t seen Cutler Manning in years,” Dolly continued. “He and his brother Dean used to visit their Aunt Manning. I think some of his other brothers did too, once in a while. The bride I don’t know. Met Maya before, though. She lives in her grandparents’ old house. Who do you know?”
“Groom.”
“How do you know him?” She shifted in her seat, adjusting the A/C vent.
“Manning Ranch.”
“You worked there?”
“Yep.”
“Would you rather not talk? I know I can carry a conversation, but really, I don’t have to talk.”
She wasn’t apologizing, and her tone was more playful than anything else. Was she teasing him? The thought of it revved him up in a way that would make it more challenging to sit still next to her for the probably long wedding ceremony. He rifled his hair.
But nothing helped him come up with a witty response. She had him tongue-tied.
“Wow, I’ve struck you speechless.”
She was kidding, he was sure, but she was right. She’d struck him with some of that magic, a magic he didn’t believe in, though.
“Just maintaining the persona,” he quipped.
Her laugh was rich reward. “Good to be consistent. I like that.”
And he liked her. Liked her talking a mile a minute. Liked her smile and cheer. Liked her confidence and curiosity.
He grunted. Liking her wasn’t on the agenda. Especially if they were going to work together, or rather, if she hired him.
Trees surrounded the church lot, more numerous than the cars. Slowly, they edged their way toward the parking lot, where he recognized a few of the young guys who’d worked with him at Taft’s Logging sometimes. Ken Taft must’ve loaned them out for this.
He wasn’t sure about Taft, but if Mrs. Davis spent time with him, he couldn’t be all bad. And he was fair, at least. Luke just had a mistrust of rich men, was all. His father was one.
“What a neat old building. Though there’s a lot of grim history in these Catholic mission churches. Bet they didn’t teach that in your fourth grade, either, did they?”
He shook his head. He didn’t remember much about elementary school, but he did remember his parents taking him to the mission in Sonoma. It’d been their last outing as a family.
“Mine either. I mean, it’s challenging to teach about enslavement and racism, but it’s important. Everyone deserves to be acknowledged and mirrored. Well, I won’t get into that now. Not wedding-appropriate talk.” She pushed out a breath.
“I don’t mind.” He liked that she cared about history and people. As he parked, he caught her gaze.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Then another time. I’ve got to get into the party chit-chat frame of mind.”
A shiver ran over him. He’d rather get a root canal than chit-chat at a party. “Better you than me.”
“Stick with me. As you can tell, with me around, you won’t have to say a word.”
He could kiss her for that. “I’ll owe you one.”
“Good answer.”
He could kiss her anyway. Instead, he quickly exited the car and helped her out without actually touching her, which seemed like too dangerous an activity. They walked over to the path to the church, silent as the chatter around them increased. Once inside, it hushed somewhat. Ushers sat them on the groom’s side.
He craned his neck to spot Mrs. D and Ken Taft, but didn’t see them. Instead he spent some time returning waves from people he knew, and glaring at a few of the guys signaling at Dolly when she turned from them, doing her own greeting.
They’d be wondering about her. Luke hadn’t thought about this wrinkle—that Dolly Gallagher would attract just about every straight single man in the area. His chest constricted, as if he’d been punched. He had no claim on Dolly, and therefore no right to be jealous, not that it was ever a helpful emotion.
But there it sat, rearing its ugly head like an unwelcome snake in the garden.
Music swelled and he had to sit closer to Dolly as more people were seated in the long pews. His knee touched her leg, causing a heated ripple to shimmy up into his core. He tried folding in on himself so they wouldn’t be touching, but there was nothing for it.
He prayed they’d keep the ceremony as short as possible. Soon, they rose as the bride and her attendants processed in, all looking beautiful, as bridal parties usually did. But none of them had anything on Dolly. He snuck glances at her as the ceremony went on. At least he hoped she didn’t notice. If she did, he’d look like a fool. Which, he had to admit, he was. A fool for Dolly Gallagher.
He found it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.
Chapter Five
Take Me By the Hand
Dolly dabbed her eyes with her tiny handkerchief when the bride and groom, beaming, walked up the aisle. Then she clapped along with everyone else. Nora, the bride, elegant in a long shift-style white dress, and Cutler, handsome in his dark suit, were followed by the groomsmen in similar suits—two of his brothers, if she weren’t mistaken—and bridesmaids in red gowns, cocktail length in a 1950s silhouette.
The old church, with its high ceiling and dark wood pews, was decked out in red roses and baby’s breath. Nothing ostentatious, but, like the bride’s gown, simply elegant. From the beginning of the ceremony, when they’d acknowledged the tribal lands of the Salish and Pend d’Oreille peoples, to the end, as the happy couple had been declared man and wife, Dolly had ridden a wave of emotion.
Dolly didn’t have
much to compare to, as she hadn’t been to any weddings, but this rivaled those she’d seen in movies and on TV. What she hadn’t realized was how emotional a real-life happy wedding could be. She hadn’t gone to any of her friends’ weddings, as the timing had always been off—either she’d been grieving, or too busy with her shop or other business.
And now, here she was at thirty-eight, all her friends partnered off, and she’d barely ever even had a serious relationship. Not since college, anyway. During that time, she’d lost her parents, and had focused everything in her on her bookshop and doing what she could to build community, to give people a place to browse and chat and be among books.
Now, feeling a heaviness from the mix of emotions, she leaned back, accidentally brushing against Luke. His solid presence throughout the ceremony, his silent strength, had given her a ground of safety and comfort. She didn’t understand it, but it was there, that foundation, as real as he was standing behind her, his hand just touching her back.
“Ready?” he asked as the pews emptied and they had a clear path to the exit.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet. Edging out, she walked with the rest of the straggling guests to the wide church doors. Stopping outside, she waited for Luke, who soon stood beside her.
She turned toward him, without looking at him. “Are they having the receiving line at the reception?”
“Yep.”
The air cooled since they’d gone inside and the sky streaked with pastels, the bright blue day fading slowly into night. Trees surrounded them, as if guarding the land.
“It’s beautiful here.” Her hand itched to take his, to share the connection to this place she felt with him.
“Let’s go.” He strode forward.
Her brows tugged together. How could he not want to pause and take all this in? Disappointment sank through her, but she let it drain out. Taking in some deep breaths of the clear, foresty air, she found her smile again and followed Luke to his truck.
It was an old tan Ford, and he kept it clean, a couple of long toolboxes attached in the bed. He waited, holding the passenger door for her. She climbed up to the seat, which had been covered, also in tan. She got the feeling Luke didn’t like to stand out. But he did, to her. He was handsome, yes, but it was his inner strength and steadiness that drew her to him.
Once he’d started the truck, she spoke again. Talking helped keep things casual, for her, anyway. “If the reception is half as beautiful as the ceremony, I’m going to be a mess by the end of the night.” Her tone was laughing, but part of her knew what she said was true.
“I thought you liked it.”
“I did. You?”
“It was a wedding.”
Now she laughed out loud. “Okay. Not much for weddings, or love and romance in general?”
His hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly. Then she refocused her attention as they took a different road out, one she hadn’t been on before, at least that she could remember. It was like driving through a fairy-tale forest, not in the light, flower-fairy familiar way she got in the forests back in the San Francisco Bay Area. This was darker somehow, with more pine trees and menacing looking shrubbery, yet it was awe-inspiring and beautiful.
“I don’t think I’ve been over here before. Does this go toward town?”
“It doesn’t go to town, but it’ll get us to Middleton Ranch for the reception. Thought you might like the new route.”
She glanced at him, but his expression was neutral.
“Thanks for thinking of me,” she said.
His neck reddened but he remained impassive and silent. He was a challenge to figure out, but he did seem thoughtful, another good quality in a contractor.
“So,” she continued, retraining her attention on the surrounding landscape, “what do you think about taking on the renovation of my building?” Focusing on business was another way to keep things from getting too intimate.
When he didn’t reply, she opened her mouth to speak, but then remembered that sometimes, quiet people especially, needed time to formulate what they wanted to say. Luke seemed like one of those people. So she clamped her lips shut and tried to figure out what some of the plants along the road were, with little success. But it entertained her.
“I think,” he said after what seemed like ten minutes or more, “that you may want to weigh your options. And I need to evaluate it properly before I can offer a bid.”
She pushed back a brief thought that he didn’t want to work with her. “I appreciate your thoroughness. But I thought one of the reasons you agreed to take me as your guest was so we could talk business?”
“That’s what Mrs. D said. Did I ever say that?”
“Why did you, then?”
He adjusted his hands on the wheel. “Why not?”
“I guess good to know you’re not a ruthless businessman.”
He swerved slightly, the truck swaying to the side. She reached for his arm instinctively, then drew back. They bumped over a pothole or rock before he righted their course.
That maneuver had left her with an ache in her stomach that felt like it could be relieved by being close to him, leaning into the same sense of safety he’d wrapped her in during the wedding. She tried to scooch over, though, because especially if they were going to be working together, it wasn’t appropriate to get close in that way.
She hugged her arms around her stomach as they continued on, the sky darkening by degrees. He turned onto another road, the trees becoming sparser and more varied.
“Almost there.”
The lavenders and peaches and blues of the sky once again caught her gaze. “Big sky country, huh?”
“Not as much here as in the plains. But yeah, it’s spectacular.”
A whole two sentences from Luke was like a long monologue from someone else. And maybe more valuable because he took the time to think before he spoke. He wasn’t the type of man to just say any old thing. Not that she minded those people who spoke a lot without thinking it all through; sometimes she was one herself.
“Is that why you moved here?” she asked.
“A big part of it.”
“Wow,” she said as they drove up a long dirt road toward a stone and wood house. Seemed like they were coming at it from the side, but that didn’t diminish the appeal of the structure and land.
He parked in a mown field, where other cars were being pulled in as well.
“Special parking for the reception?” she asked.
“Yep. Guess I should’ve warned you there’d be a trek across the grass.” He glanced at her feet. Her beige wedge sandals weren’t the most practical, but they were a better choice than heels in this terrain.
“I’ll be all right,” she said. Her stomach flip-flopped at what she wanted to say. “If you take me by the hand.”
He ran his hand over his hair and got out of the car. Her stomach dropped. Maybe she’d miscalculated, though she didn’t think asking for a man’s hand to make it across a field without falling was a big deal.
Though holding Luke’s hand seemed like it could lead to big feelings.
He opened the door for her and she slid out. The door shut as she walked away, carefully picking her steps. She faltered. A strong hand took hers and Luke’s solid body moved beside her, close by. Their hands fit together, fingers intertwined as if they’d held hands countless times before. Their steps synced, as if they’d walked miles side by side. The air was heavy with the scent of mown grass and heat and aliveness, filling her with the same feeling.
She twisted toward Luke and her foot slipped in a dip in the path, but he caught her. Peeking up at him, she almost gasped at the intensity of his gaze, the nearness of his full lips. She touched his short beard then pulled her hand back.
“Sorry, wasn’t thinking.” And she hadn’t been, exactly, other than wanting to feel the roughness of his hair, graze his slightly tanned skin, and more.
He shook his head then turned so they were as they’d bee
n. “You okay?” His voice sounded like a croak.
“Yes, thanks. You?”
“Fine.” He caught her hand in his again, palms moist. She couldn’t tell who that was coming from. It wasn’t that hot anymore. Was she that nervous, or was he? Or both?
She swallowed. Maybe he was fine, but she wasn’t. The warmth and attraction toward this man that coursed through her was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. And she wasn’t ready for it. Not at all.
Chapter Six
Hold Onto Her Tight
Luke thought about pulling his hand away, since he was sweating with nerves at being so close to Dolly. But he didn’t want her to fall again, both for her own safety, and his. Because the more dangerous fall here was his—he was falling for Dolly Gallagher, hard.
During the wedding, and driving here, the urge to tell her he’d been thinking of her, to discuss all the little things he’d heard and noticed that he thought she might appreciate, almost overwhelmed him. He fought it off, smothering it like he would a small fire.
“Aunt June said Brandon Manning bought this place? Is it really historic?” Dolly asked.
“Yep. Built with mostly local materials back in the early twentieth century. It’s been kept pretty pristine, and Brandon and Ana spent a lot of time since spring getting the gardens into showcases, and a revamping the working one as well.” He guided Dolly around some of the bumps in the field. Soon they approached the house.
“It seems unique.”
So was she. Instinctively, he pulled her closer as they became surrounded by more wedding guests. A couple of guys he knew eyed Dolly. While he understood the impulse, he didn’t like it. They didn’t know he wasn’t really with her. He shot them a glare then felt like an idiot for acting possessively toward her. Another feeling he hadn’t had in a long time, and he preferred to keep it that way.
She stopped, turning her head, apparently to take it all in. “I can’t believe how they did this. It’s like a wildflower meadow. And is that a vegetable garden?” She leaned back, looking to the orchard. “And fruit trees? Was—is—this a working ranch? I don’t see any animals.”
Hello Dolly Page 3
