Ryder waited while Lorri changed her shirt, and stood there second-guessing why he’d insisted she stay at the fair for a while. It wasn’t his job to care for her in the first place. I should’ve let Diane give her a ride home. What the heck has gotten into me?
The internal banter had only just begun though.
I tackled her pretty good trying to get her out of the way. Watching over her for a couple of hours is the right thing to do.
Has nothing to do with the fact she’s beautiful? No. Just to be on the safe side. A good neighbor.
She’s lovely. Even covered in dirt with wood shavings in her hair. But I’m not interested. I only have room for one woman in this heart.
“Great. I’m talking to myself and answering myself too. That’s it. I’m officially crazy,” he mumbled.
Maybe it’s appropriate we’re going to go build birdhouses. I’m cuckoo.
He kicked his boot in the dirt.
“Good as new,” Lorri said, interrupting his self-assessment. “This shirt is the softest material I’ve ever worn.”
“Looks good.” He cleared his throat and lifted his eyes from the logo on her chest, leveling his gaze with her deep green eyes. “That shirt is made from recycled milk jugs or something eco-friendly.” Milk jugs? Really? I’m a blundering fool. “The Wedding Ranch is very aware of cause and effect on the environment. Recycling. Reduced carbon footprint. All that.”
“I’d read about that. Here’s a fun fact for you. I actually created the logo that’s on this shirt.”
“You know Reece and Ross?” She was a little shorter than he realized now that she was on her feet.
“No. Not exactly.” Lorri shrugged. “They must be the owners. They wouldn’t know me either. I work for the graphic arts firm out of Raleigh that was contracted to do the work. I was living there—in Raleigh—when the project came in,” she explained.
“Small world.”
“It is sometimes,” she agreed with a smile that was beautiful even though her lips were still bluish.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. No need to tell her he was related to them. He probably wouldn’t see her again after tonight. “The shirt works. Good.”
She nodded.
“So, new in town?” He started walking toward the big block building.
“Is that your best line?” The toying edge to her comment came across as playful.
“Yeah. Guess so. I mean, I know everyone in this town, and I haven’t seen you before.”
“So, it was a statement?” Lorri commented. “Not a question?”
“Right. That and Tinsley told me that you lived down from her mom which means you moved into Mill Creek Highlands.”
“Yes, I did,” she said. “From Raleigh.”
“Right. You said that. I could’ve guessed you were from Raleigh though. You have that city attitude to you.”
“Really?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why not Charlotte?”
“No.” He was sure of himself. “You don’t have that banker look. Not a computer geek either. More of a Raleigh look.”
“And how does a Raleigh person look?”
He was in over his head. The banter was quick. He and Valerie had always gone at it like that. He’d been able to think fast on his feet back then, but that had been seven years ago now. Out of practice, and a little uncomfortable, he bailed out. “No comment.”
“Probably a good idea.” She winked, a perky smile lifting her cheeks.
He laughed. “Come on. This way.” He jogged ahead to open the door. “After you, ma’am.” Air conditioning flowed from inside, a relief from the afternoon heat.
She made a beeline for the rows of baked goods. Valerie had always insisted on looking at all of them too. What was it about ogling food you can’t even try that intrigued women? All the entries looked pretty much the same to him. He moved along at her pace since she seemed to be enjoying it.
“Do you bake?” he asked.
“No. That’s why I admire the people who can. I can barely get the pop-can biscuits to come out like the picture.”
His laugh came so quick, it almost choked him. “There’s an art to homemade biscuits, but those canned ones, they don’t require much skill. I think I can give you some tips on those myself.”
“Thanks.” She mused, glancing around. “I’d starve if I had to rely on my cooking. Thank goodness there are a few good restaurants in town.”
“Speaking of food, I promised you some. I’m going to grab us a couple barbecue sandwiches. These are the best. Keep looking. I’ll catch back up in a minute.”
He kept an eye on her as he waited in line at the BBQ booth. She wasn’t making an obligatory pass. She was really into it, checking each of the entries out and truly enjoying herself. He got the sandwiches and two bottles of water. He caught up with Lorri, who was looking at batches of homemade cookies.
“This might not be what you’re craving after staring at all those baked goods, but I think you’ll like it better than that blue cotton candy.”
“Thanks.” They ate while walking down the last row of baked goods—the tiered cake category. There were lots of traditional wedding cakes, but also contemporary and theme cakes.
“I like this one.” Ryder stood in front of a four-tiered cake.
“I’m drawn to the trendy semi-naked cake. The sugar flowers are so realistic and the bluish-green eucalyptus is such a nice contrast to the pinks.”
“Are you kidding?” Ryder laughed. “Looks like someone just swept their finger around the edges to steal the frosting. I turn every cake that sits on my counter too long into something that looks like that. Doesn’t take much talent, just an appetite for sweets.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we just ate, or some of these cakes might be in danger.”
“Truly,” he said with a nod.
“Thanks for the sandwich. That was the best barbecue I’ve ever had, and I’ve had my share,” she said.
“Glad you liked it.”
She took a sip of water from her bottle then lifted on her toes. Delighted, her eyes flashed. “Quilts!”
“You quilt?”
“Oh no.” She flipped a hand in the air as if he’d made the craziest assumption possible. “I don’t quilt either. In fact I don’t do much in the domestic area at all.” She double-stepped over to the display of quilts. She wandered through the ones hanging from the ceiling, her chin to the sky moving as if she were navigating a maze. “These are gorgeous.”
“Takes a lot of work.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Mom used to spend hours in front of her quilting frame, hand-stitching the final patterns. She always said that was the most precious part of the quilt, although you didn’t even notice it unless you really looked.”
The black and red quilt on his bed now was one his mom had made for him. In the hand-stitching in one of the corners she’d sewn the words, “Sleep soundly every night knowing I love you, son,” something that no one knew but the two of them. That memory made him miss her. Some days it was like she’d been gone forever rather than on a road trip with his dad, especially when weeks went by with no phone call. He wasn’t even sure which state they were in now. “Mom loved quilting.” Memories of her holding the ribbons she’d won in this fair went back as far as he could remember. She used to have an old Christmas tree in the corner of her project room that was filled with mostly first place ones.
“Oh, I’m sorry. When did she—”
“She’s very much alive. Sorry. I just haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Where does she live?”
“She and Dad took off to see the country. Sold the house and bought themselves a fancy RV. Thing is as big as a cotton baler. I get postcards. Sometimes they stay in one place for a few weeks. Mostly I think they are letting life lead them to the next adventure.”
“That sounds amazing.” She tossed her hair back. “There are so many beautiful places I’ve never visited. I bet it’s wonderful.”
He liked the way her dark hair waved this way and that. “For them maybe. I couldn’t do it.”
“Honestly, as awesome as it sounds it’s probably not for me either. I’d never be brave enough to do that.” Her brows pulled together. “I’m kind of a creature of habit. I like to know where I am and what I’m going to be doing.”
“I’m with you on that,” he said. “And tradition. I like to do things that I know make me happy. Those are what should become tradition. Right?”
“Yes. And don’t repeat the things that don’t bring joy.” She seemed pleased on their meeting of the minds.
She admired the quilts, reading the information about each one. She ran her fingers across fabric in muted greens and blues. “I love this one. It would go perfectly in my house.”
“I like the green. It’s a different shade.”
She snickered. “Not like John Deere green, huh?”
“Nothing wrong with John Deere green.”
“Not if you’re a tractor,” she teased. “This is more of a sage. My house is about this shade. It attracted me instantly.”
“You know, most of these quilts will be for sale this Sunday. I mean, if you think you might be interested.”
“Really?” She stepped closer to the quilt. Each stitch was so precise that if she hadn’t read the card she’d never have guessed it was hand-stitched. She liked the way the top stitching left the fabric in puffy tufts along the pattern. She traced the stitches with her fingertip. “Look how intricate the continuous swooping flourish is on this one. It’s like they tried to copy the path of a bumblebee’s flight on a spring day.”
“That was rather poetic. You sure you don’t know something about quilting?” He stared at her. One moment she was trading snippy banter with him, the next she spoke as delicate as a feather.
She dipped her head as if she hadn’t realized she’d uttered those words out loud. “No, but I know a lot about patterns and color. I was an art major. I work in marketing in the design area.”
“Which explains how you created the logo on that shirt.” He twisted the tag on the quilt to see who had crafted that one. “Patsy Faber. I’m sure you can negotiate a deal on this one. She’s been sewing quilts for years. She’s one of Mom’s close friends. She’ll definitely be here on Sunday after church.”
“That would be wonderful.” She pointed to the quilt. “I’m coming back for that quilt.”
“I’ll introduce you two.”
“Thanks. Oh, gosh. I’m sorry, I’m sure this isn’t your idea of a good time. I can come back and stroll through this stuff another day. Let’s make those birdhouses.”
He pointed toward the far side of the building and they walked together.
There was no one in the booth, but the tools and supplies were still sitting out. “Come on.” He pulled a metal chair out for her. He picked up two stacks of precut wood, handing her one as he took the seat at the head of the table to her right.
“Are you sure we’re not going to get into trouble for making ourselves at home like this?” She leaned in. “Those people over there are looking at us.”
“They’re just enjoying the show.”
“If we get arrested, you are posting my bail.” She wagged a finger in his direction. “Got it?”
“Welcome to Leafland County, where anyone can build a birdhouse without getting arrested.” He lifted two pieces of wood and positioned them. “Like this.”
She followed his lead, lining up the edges, gluing and clamping them before nailing them together.
They worked quietly. He liked that she wasn’t the type to fill every quiet moment with words—talking just to talk. He valued comfortable silence. Each step of the way there were nods and smiles as they built the birdhouses. She followed direction well.
“Now for the roof. We have old license plates that can be bent to create the pitch or there’s live-edge wood. What’s your pleasure?”
“What’s live-edge wood?”
“They still have bark on one side.”
“That’s a hard decision.”
“Let’s do one of each. I’m giving you mine anyway. I don’t need a birdhouse.”
“Great. I’d love to have both. Thank you.”
He bent a license plate across the roof of his birdhouse, while she nailed the live-edge slices of wood into place on the other.
“Not bad.” She looked very pleased with herself. “These are great. Who do we pay for them?”
“On the house,” he said.
She looked like she was going to argue, but then she simply said, “Thank you, sir.”
“Least I could do for bumping your noggin.” He swept her hair from her forehead. “Let me see that.” He winced. “You’ve got quite the goose egg there.”
“Lovely.” She brushed her hair back into place. “Could’ve been worse. So quit apologizing.”
As if on cue the Cody Tuggle song “If I Say I’m Sorry” played. She laughed, pointing toward one of the speakers. “See!”
They both noticed the coincidence at the same time. “Alright already,” Ryder said.
“I love this song,” she admitted. “He’s one of my favorite singers.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm. He’s a good guy.”
“How do you know?”
“I can tell,” she said. “If you listen to the words of his songs, he’s a genuine guy. He writes most of his own lyrics.”
“I’ll let you know what I think when I meet him.” Ryder leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Don’t tell anyone, it’s top secret, but he’s getting married at The Wedding Ranch next month.”
She shook her head. “No way. But if it is true, and it’s a secret, you shouldn’t be telling me.” She waved a finger at him. “Or anyone else for that matter.”
He looked stumped. “You’re right. I don’t even know why I did that.” He stood there looking at her. “I guess … I was trying to impress you.” Have I gone completely mad?
Her cheeks reddened. “Well, don’t tell secrets. That’ll impress me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He placed both birdhouses into a box and slid them under the table. “We’ll pick these up later. We should get you something to eat. Are you hungry?”
“Not after that barbecue, but I kind of had my heart set on trying a fried Twinkie.”
“Dessert then.”
“Deal.”
“We have to cut through the midway to get to where they park all the really good food trucks. I happen to be pretty skilled at those games.”
“Are you bragging?” The playful tilt of her shoulders made him regret the comment.
“Isn’t bragging if it’s true.”
“It’s still bragging.”
He steered her by the elbow to a tent with one of those games where you have to throw the ball and hit bottles off of a platform.
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter how good you are. You know this game is rigged to keep you from winning.”
The booth operator feigned offense at her accusation. “This joint is not rigged. I promise you that.” He handed Ryder three balls. “I run a fair game. Get it. Fair. Go for it. Wait a second. Miss, pick out what you want to win.”
Lorri pressed her finger to her lips as she scanned the stuffed animals, laser-lit hats, and feather boas. “That teddy bear.”
Ryder gave the guy a nod, then winked at Lorri. “Here goes.”
He threw all three balls and nailed all three. He took a bow, and the operator presented her with the giant stuffed bear.
“That thing is huge.” Ryder lifted it over his head, balancing it on his shoulder and back.
“You haven’t seen huge until you’ve met Mister.”
“You mean to tell me there’s a Mister Lorri? You’re not wearing a ring.” Yes, he’d noticed.
“Not that kind.” She took her phone from her pocket and scrolled to a picture. “Here. No. There’s no Mister Lorri Walker, but there is a Mister in my life.”
“Holy cow. That’s your dog? I’ve got feeder calves that size.”
“That’s why I named him Mister.”
“I would too. How much does he weigh?” Ryder had steer-wrestled calves smaller than that.
“One hundred and eighty pounds last time we were at the vet.”
“He’s a cool dog. If you’re not already, you might want to start buying your large-breed dog food from the mill in bulk. It’ll save you a bundle.”
“That would help.”
“I’ve known those guys forever. I’ll hook you up down there.”
“Thank you. That’s really nice of you. You do know everyone around here.”
“Nothing of it,” he said. “It’s the neighborly thing to do.” He walked forward and realized she had suddenly dropped back. She had an odd look on her face.
“Yeah, sure, neighborly is good. As long as that’s all it is. I mean, I’m not married. No ring as you said, but I’m not looking either.” That sounded harsh. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’d even be interested, but—”
“Don’t dig yourself in any deeper. I’m not looking either.”
Her smile came back. “Oh good, because my ex was a real jerk. Bought me that giant dog, then left for a lady with a Yorkie from puppy class.”
“I never did like those little barking breeds.”
“Tell me about it.” She looked like she might have regretted giving him too much information.
“No worries. We’re just neighbors. No time for more than that. I’ve got a very busy schedule,” he said.
“Me too. I’ve been accused of working too much, but what does that even mean? We’re supposed to work hard, aren’t we?”
“Being a hard worker is a very important life skill. I completely agree.”
“See! Thank you.” She stopped and looked for a moment, then turned back to him. “I need to get home to my big dog before he gets hungry and eats the couch or something. Today’s been fun.”
“It has. I’m glad you’re okay.” He lifted his phone and moved the flashlight in front of her eyes, then raised his finger in front of her face. He didn’t even have to tell her to follow it as he gave her the remedial field test for a concussion again. “No nausea or dizziness?”
“Nope.”
“I think you’re fine. Do you think you can drive? I’d be happy to give you a lift.”
“No.” She answered quickly. “Thank you. I’m fine to drive. I’m going to go get those birdhouses and head home.”
“I’m a little worried about you driving. I could follow you to be sure you make it home okay.”
“I’ll tell you what. If I feel like I can’t drive, I promise I will stop. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is drive recklessly, or have people think I’m driving drunk. You don’t want to get me started about drunk drivers.”
“You’re not the only one with strong opinions on that. But tonight, I just want to know that you’re safe, and that I didn’t give you a concussion trying to rescue you. Can I at least carry the birdhouses to your car for you?”
“No. You’ve done enough, babysitting me all afternoon. I can handle it. Thank you.” She turned to leave, then lifted her hand in a wave. “Bye,” she called out over her shoulder as she walked away.
“See you around town.” He didn’t want to sound interested. He wasn’t. “It’s a small town. I’m sure we will. Cross paths, I mean.” He wasn’t so sure that was any more convincing.
Shut up.
He watched her walk into the building, resisting the temptation to help her with the birdhouses to her car after she’d already said no.
Ryder turned and walked over to the arena where the horse show was in full swing, but then jogged out to his truck to follow her so he could be sure she wasn’t on the side of the road somewhere.