Til There Was You

Chapter 1-2

Misty Pennebaker slipped into Elvira’s Tavern, pitifully grateful her work day was at an end. Well, there’d be more work with this wedding consult, but that would be fun and for friends. Not that they were friends just yet, but Kennedy bought flowers twice a week for the inn she ran with her sisters, and Misty had hopes they would get there.

She hesitated in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She scanned the bar, looking for Cayla and Kennedy, and looked away quickly when she caught Denver Hershal watching her. Even while she avoided it, his gaze had an almost physical weight as it pinned her where she stood. Her skin heated from more than the early June sun, which made no sense at all because he wasn’t even smiling. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile.

The man had presence, and he made her uneasy. Not that she felt threatened by him, despite the tattoos she could see peeking out from beneath his shirtsleeves. He’d never said more than two words to her in the three years she’d been in Eden’s Ridge, and she hadn’t really done more than nod at him, as was small town custom. Once you were here for a year or so, you knew nearly everyone on some level. But there was something closed about Denver, just one of the things that set him apart from others she had met in the Ridge. He seemed to want to be left alone. Whatever his secrets—and nobody seemed to know what they were, at least not that she’d heard—he had a right to keep them.

Misty saw no reason to push or pry. She understood walling yourself off. Hadn’t she done the same? Oh, she’d made friends. She’d made a point of it, as she’d opened her business, gotten to know the various artists and artisans in the area. But there was a very clear line between Now and Life Before The Ridge.

Finally spotting her friends in a booth across the way, Misty broke her temporary paralysis and crossed to join them.

“You are just in time,” Cayla crowed. “I’ve got ideas!”

Misty grinned at her enthusiasm. “Kennedy, did you realize you were going to be a guinea pig when you agreed to this?”

Kennedy shrugged. “I needed a wedding planner. Cayla needed someone to practice her event planning skills on to kick off her new business. Seems like win-win to me.”

Misty had to agree. A local girl who’d come home to Eden’s Ridge after a nasty divorce, Cayla was starting over. Misty knew all about that, and she was all over doing whatever she could to support Cayla’s new enterprise.

Over a plate of nachos, they talked budgets and timelines, before finally turning to flower options for the venue—the barn on the family property, behind the inn.

“It’s going to be a country wedding, but not redneck,” Cayla said. “Tasteful.”

“I think Xander was ready to ask me to marry him all over again, when I told him he didn’t have to wear a tux.”

“You are, without a doubt, the most laid back bride I have ever worked with,” Misty said.

Kennedy shrugged, her green eyes dreamy. “I’m just happy to finally be with my Xander.”

Propping her chin on one fist, Cayla sighed. “They’re disgustingly happy. Join me in my moment of envy.”

Misty laughed. “I’m not looking for a man.”

“Well, neither am I. I’d like to be more rid of the old one than I am. But damn, I’d love to be that kind of happy.”

“Fine,” Misty conceded. “Maybe I’d change my mind if I had a guy who looked at me the way Xander looks at Kennedy.”

Kennedy squirmed a little. “This is a wedding planning meeting, is it not?”

“Yes, yes, back to work,” Cayla said, diving back into her planner and coming out with photos of the barn’s interior. “Now, I think we can use some kind of fabric swags or drapes to hide the less attractive sections of the barn, like the hay loft where y’all have stuff stored. And we’ll use the crap out of some white twinkle lights and some of that pretty outdoor lighting like you see on restaurant patios sometimes.”

“That sounds good,” Misty agreed. “And of course, I can use floral arrangements to direct people’s attention down the aisle and toward whatever you deem is the front. But it might be nice to have a focal point since there’s no real altar. Something to give it some pizzazz.”

Kennedy looked intrigued. “Like what?”

“An arbor maybe. Something I can twine with flowers and ribbon. It could be done up really pretty and in your colors.”

Cayla clapped her hands once, pressing her lips together in an obvious effort to hold in a squee.

Misty smiled. “I recognize your lightbulb moment. What are you thinking?”

Instead of answering, Cayla waved her hand. “Denver! Come here a sec.”

What the hell? Are we ordering more drinks?

Denver left the sanctity of the bar and strode over, his long legs eating up the distance. “Yeah?”

“How much do you love Kennedy?”

He didn’t even blink. “Enough not to complain that her break’s run over for wedding planning.” It wasn’t said in a teasing tone, just matter-of-fact.

But Cayla wasn’t put off in the least. “How ’bout enough to build something for the wedding?”

Build something? He’s a bartender.

Denver frowned, his brows drawing down over cool gray eyes. “Like what?”

“An arbor. Something Misty can train some flowers around and on. I’ve seen your woodworking. It’s totally in your wheelhouse.” Cayla gestured to the bar. “He carved all that himself.”

Collectively, they all shifted to look at the bar, with its subtly beautiful pattern carved into the side panels. Misty hadn’t ever really noticed it before because there was usually a crowd of people blocking it. She wanted to get up, get a closer look, but Denver shifted his gaze to her, pinning her in place.

“You want me to build an arbor?”

Something about the way the question was directed at her—or maybe it was just his intense focus—made Misty feel somehow like his target. She pointed at Cayla. “I want someone to build an arbor. She’s the one throwing you under the bus.”

Cayla clasped her hands in prayer position and gave him The Face—an adult version of the one her four-year-old regularly employed. “Please, Denver. For me? For Kennedy? For love?”

He winced. “If I do it, will you stop with all the gushy s**t?”

Cayla crossed her heart with one finger.

Face set in lines of resignation, he sighed and looked at the bride to be. “Fine. What exactly do you want?”

Kennedy held up her hands. “Don’t look at me. It’s Misty’s concept.”

Cayla shook her head in mock disappointment. “I swear, you’d get married in blue jeans if not for me. Anyway, you are the least fussy bride on Earth. So here’s the date we need it by,” she scribbled something on a sheet of paper and shoved it across the table at him, “and what we’re thinking we can spend on it. Let me know if that doesn’t work. You and Misty get together to sort out the details of what she needs and what you can actually put together in that amount of time.”

Misty started to protest because Cayla was totally railroading him, but those gray eyes flicked to her again.

“Fine. Dinner crowd’s coming in right now, but I can talk tomorrow. Swing by your shop?”

This big, burly, bull of a man in her pretty little shop? “Uh…okay.”

He nodded to himself like something had been decided and walked away, leaving Misty wondering what the hell just happened.