by Jill Lynn
After a beat, he nodded. “Okay. Sorry to doubt your abilities.” He scanned the countertops. They were covered in prep items. The storm before the calm. Lee used to get frustrated with the mess she created before a dinner party, but she’d always pulled it together in the end. Come to think of it, Lee’s doubts about her capabilities had hurt, too. At least Finn’s were warranted because he knew next to nothing about her.
“It’s like checking out a painting before it’s finished. It’s not going to resemble anything right now, but tomorrow night, it will.”
“Okay.” Finn raised palms. “I’m here if you need me to do anything. Otherwise, I’ll stay out of it.”
“Thank you.” Ivy appreciated that. Because she planned to show Finn that he hadn’t made a mistake in working out a deal with her. That she was still the capable woman she’d once been. That she remembered how to make decisions and be confident in them. And that maybe her instincts didn’t have to be wrong all the time—the way they had been with Lee.
Actually...most of that she needed to prove to herself. For Finn, this was just about a dinner party.
For Ivy, it was about so much more.
* * *
Having Ivy orchestrate the dinner couldn’t be worse than anything Finn would have managed to accomplish. At least that was what he told himself while moving cattle the day of the gathering.
He’d stayed out of Ivy’s way and out of the house on purpose, because she’d been right last night. He hadn’t trusted her to handle things. Pretty sure the seed of that was watered by Chrissa. How had one woman done such a number on him in such a short amount of time?
The crazy part was, despite the way Chrissa had twisted things and confused him, commandeering his help and then reneging on everything they’d talked about, Finn had still struggled to let go of her, to leave her behind and move on with his life. Not because he couldn’t stop loving her, although that had taken some effort on his part, but more because he was worried about her. Worried that the stories she’d told him about her ex/current husband were true, and that the man had somehow talked her out of trusting her instincts.
But Finn couldn’t save Chrissa. She’d made her choice, and he’d had to walk away. And that had messed with him. It also explained why he was so concerned about the deal he’d made with Ivy.
He’d engaged with her girls yesterday without thinking, and it had come back to haunt him. He was starting to entertain questions like...were they going to be okay? Would they make it to California safely after her vehicle was fixed? How would the girls fare without a father in their lives?
Things he had no business fretting about.
Things that reminded him that he shouldn’t have made the deal in the first place. But it was too late to change anything now. The dinner would be happening in just over an hour, and in a couple of days, Ivy would get her vehicle back and she’d be on her way to California. Then Finn could put an end to any thoughts of her or her girls needing rescuing.
Not that Ivy had even asked him for that. At least she’d come up with the idea of them making a trade. Which meant Finn wasn’t rescuing her. He wasn’t pulling another Chrissa or repeating the past.
Finn strode from the barn to the house. The triplets were outside, playing with the babysitter. A girl Charlie had recommended. She’d said that Ivy would need someone to watch the girls for the evening if she was going to be able to host. Ivy had agreed, and the two of them had worked out the rest of the details. Finn would write the check at the end of the night, and as long as the dinner went well, it would be worth it.
The girls waved and called out to him. He returned the greeting and then paused with his hand on the outside doorknob. I should have come back earlier. Checked on things.
But I promised I wouldn’t do exactly that.
If the house wasn’t ready, he would be scrambling, big-time. And based on the mess Ivy had created while getting ready... Finn opened the front door with a wince already in place, but any concern quickly fell away.
The house was immaculate, but more than that, it didn’t even look like his place.
The lights had been dimmed, and flickering candlelight filled the living room, island and dining table. The island had been set up as a serving station, and the plates and napkins were ready to go. They’d discussed that there wouldn’t be enough chairs for everyone to have a seat at the table, but Ivy had remedied that by placing white folding chairs throughout the living room in addition to the usual seating. Finn wasn’t sure where she’d commandeered those—if she’d rented or borrowed or what—but she’d told him she’d stuck to the budget, so he didn’t really care how she’d made it happen.
The place smelled amazing, too. Garlic, potato, simmering barbecued beef all came rushing toward him, and... Was that fresh bread? His taste buds ignited.
Finn shut the door behind him and strolled toward the island, where a note stuck amid the tableware caught his eye.
Getting ready. Be back soon. Ivy.
After showering off the grime and dirt from the day, Finn dressed in his best jeans and an off-white button-down shirt Charlie had gotten him for his birthday when he’d turned twenty-nine last month. She’d be thirty-one in a few weeks. They were just over two years apart, and their mom had often teased them that they were so close in age it had been like raising twins. Now that Finn had been introduced to Ivy’s triplets, he’d have to argue with her over that. Three at the same age was a whole other level.
He slid on his good boots—the ones not covered in manure and snowmelt—and returned to the kitchen. Ivy still wasn’t back, so he poked around at the food options she’d set up. The fridge was full of items he didn’t remember purchasing. She must have filled in or made something better out of his supplies.
About fifteen minutes before guests were supposed to arrive, Finn panicked. Ivy still wasn’t back. Was there a problem with the girls and the sitter? Should he shoot her a text? They’d exchanged numbers this week while figuring out details for tonight. Or should he walk over to the bunkhouse and check on her?
If she didn’t return, could he figure out the food?
The front door flew open and Ivy flew in. She’d gone from pretty—he wasn’t going to deny the woman had the kind of face that got him right in the gut—to stunning. Her makeup was perfect—not too much, not too little. The color lining her lids was shimmery and captivating, making her eyes pop, and her cheeks were either flushed or she’d added some pink, because they were kissable and distracting.
She spotted him and flashed a smile. “Hey! Were you worried I wasn’t coming back? You really need to work on your trust issues, Finn Brightwood.” And then she laughed as if teasing him. Little did she know how close to the bull’s-eye her dart had just landed.
“I’m working on it.” Among other things. Finn motioned to the room. “It looks great in here.” The candles were fake; he could see that now. Safer, and they still cast a nice glow.
“Thank you. It’s a great space, so that made it easy.”
Easy. Maybe for her. Definitely not for him. “What can I do to help?”
She rounded the island, then handed him a serving tray and motioned to the clear cups. “Fill those with the sparkling cider. I’m going to have some poured and ready because usually everyone arrives at the same time and then things get crazy and people get missed. Don’t want that happening.”
A knock sounded on the front door, and Charlie poked her head inside. “It’s me.”
“Yay!” Ivy’s delight at seeing his sister made Finn’s chest squeeze with an unknown emotion. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight, Charlie.”
“She was included in the numbers because when she heard the cattlemen’s group had lured me into hosting, she wanted to attend so that she could see me fail.”
Charlie removed her coat and opened the front closet. “Now, Finn, that’s not true.” S
he spun in their direction after hanging her coat. “Okay, maybe it is true.” Her gaze met Ivy’s, and they both laughed.
“I suddenly feel very ganged-up-on.”
The women hugged in greeting, and Charlie started an inquisition right after. “How’s your head? Anything new? Any reason for me to regret not shoving you into the ambulance the other night?”
Ivy grabbed a bottle of cider from the fridge and handed it to Finn. “Nope. Nothing new. I’ve been having some headaches, but they’ve been minor. The girls all seem fine, too.”
In minutes, the doorbell rang, and people started arriving. Ivy was right—it was busy. The drinks Finn had poured disappeared quickly. Ivy had set out some appetizers. Guests mingled and snacked while waiting for everyone to arrive. There were lots of comments about how nice his house looked, how great everything smelled.
Ivy dashed around in a casual burgundy dress that belted at her waist, making sure drinks were filled, chatting with everyone. At one point, Finn overheard someone asking how she knew him. She said they were friends, then moved the conversation along, questioning how long they’d been ranching, exclaiming over the length of time.
She could host parties as a profession.
Once everyone arrived, Finn prayed over the food and people began dishing up plates. Ivy didn’t slow down for a second. She stationed herself behind the island, keeping a hawkeyed lookout on anything that had emptied or was starting to run low. Numerous times during the evening, Finn found his attention straying in her direction. She was...distracting.
Finn directed his focus to C. C. Leap instead. The old rancher was known for his expertise in land replenishing. Finn had plenty of questions to ask him, since he felt the Burkes had overused the land, and that had been part of what led to their downfall. He didn’t want to be prideful about his theories. He wanted to ask a competent source about rejuvenating the ranch.
C.C. offered to meet with him and analyze the ranch, which Finn considered a victory so big he’d host this silly dinner all over again if it netted him the same results.
By the time everyone had finished the main course, Finn had been told no less than five times that he was throwing the best dinner party the group had attended. They also recommended he plan on hosting next year’s, since he’d done such a good job. Finn resisted groaning at that. He hadn’t done anything. Ivy had managed it all.
And to think he’d doubted her for even a second. Just went to show how far down his trust-meter had fallen. And how far back up it would have to go in order to be in working condition again.
Chapter Three
The last guests left around nine in the evening, and Finn blew out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them.
Everything had gone well, and he was as done as a forgotten burger on the grill. The temptation to crawl into bed and crash and not deal with the mess the group had created was strong, but Finn resisted. Better to knock it out now. Besides, Ivy had been cleaning up throughout the evening when the opportunity allowed, so it shouldn’t take too long.
The guests had loved her. More than one rancher had commented on Finn having a great girlfriend, that he’d found a keeper. At first Finn had corrected them. He’d explained that he and Ivy were friends, sticking to the story she’d given earlier in the evening, though new acquaintances was a better description.
But by the fourth remark, Finn had given up. Trying to explain why a beautiful woman was helping him host wasn’t getting him anywhere. At the next gathering, he’d just tell the group that he and Ivy had broken up. It would be easier than trying to clarify their relationship.
Finn gathered used cups and tossed them into the trash, the house eerily quiet. Where was Ivy? Had she gone back to the bunkhouse? It would be strange that she hadn’t let him know. Especially since he needed to pay the sitter. Not that Finn had expected her to stay until the end of the evening. She’d more than surpassed his expectations throughout the night.
Finn checked down the hall and found the bathroom door open. She wasn’t in there. As he passed by the den that was tucked behind the kitchen, he paused in the doorway. A dainty form was sitting on the couch, head back, eyes closed. Ivy’s steady breathing told him she’d conked out. A strange, troubling warmth swirled inside his chest.
Good thing she’s leaving after the weekend. Doug had thought her car would be done on Monday. Finn was starting to think Monday wasn’t soon enough.
What was it with him and rescuing women? Ivy had been through a lot in her life... Finn would even go so far as to say her current situation registered at hot mess levels. Her husband had not only embezzled, he’d taken his own life. She was moving her girls across the country to live with her parents and start over.
The last thing he needed was to get involved, so he was actually grateful their deal was coming to an end.
He shifted his weight, and the floor creaked beneath him. Ivy shot awake, her hand fluttering to her chest.
“Oh, no. I can’t believe I fell asleep.” Panic tugged on her features, and she began pushing up from the cushions.
“Don’t get up.” He stepped into the room. “I mean, don’t get up too quickly.” It was likely that the accident was still taking a toll on her body.
Finn moved to the chair across from her and eased onto the cushion, as exhausted as he would be after manual labor. He turned on the lamp on the side table next to him, causing a yellow glow to illuminate a slice of the room.
“Sorry I missed the last part. I assume everyone is gone?”
“The house is empty, thankfully, and you didn’t miss anything. Sending a few people out the door was no big deal and not what you signed up for. I thought you’d cover the food for tonight and that’s it. But you went above and beyond that. You were a really great host. I’m going to have a problem because of what an amazing job you did.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”
“A number of people already suggested that I host next year, too. Said it was the best annual dinner they’d had in a decade.” Finn had wondered if those comments were overheard by some of the others in the room who’d hosted previously, but everyone seemed so happy to give up the job that nobody had claimed offense.
The compliment flushed Ivy’s cheeks. “Guess you’ll have to recruit someone else to help out then.”
“They won’t do as good a job as you.”
“No.” The bow of her lips increased. “They won’t.”
“I gather your head has been bothering you more than you’ve let on.” All week Finn had been wondering if Ivy should be doing so much. Now he had his answer.
“It’s been pesky, but nothing a little medicine can’t help.”
“I have a hard time believing you right now.”
Ivy’s fingers twisted on her lap. “Well, what was I going to do? Crawl into bed and not get out? What would the girls have done if I was out of commission? Sometimes as a mom, you’ve just got to...do. There isn’t a choice.”
And Finn was almost certain she’d had to do the same, even while married. But he didn’t plan to ask about what kind of spouse and father her late husband had been, because he could guess the answer, and because he wasn’t going there with Ivy.
The only place he was going with Ivy was separate directions. Even if hosting this dinner with her had turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Because there was a whole lot of difference between one week of agreement...and another rescue.
* * *
Ivy signed the paperwork to pick up her vehicle and grasped the key in her hand. Freedom. Finally. Not having access to her Suburban had been a lesson in patience that she hadn’t agreed to participate in. The idea that she could roll out of the lot and go anywhere, do anything, made her feel as if a load of bricks had been removed from her handbag.
She’d been dependent on other people since she and the girls had slid off the road. Namely the
Brightwood siblings. She’d fought hard to regain her independence after losing Lee—and herself over the years—so the setback had been a struggle.
Ivy loaded new car seats and the girls into the vehicle, then made her way toward Charlie’s Garage. The other woman had given them a ride to the auto body shop and then asked if Ivy would stop by the unfinished café she was opening, which was next door to her mechanic shop. Why, Ivy wasn’t sure, but Charlie had been there for them the past week, even going so far as to lend Ivy and the girls bedding, towels and other supplies for the bunkhouse, so she would never consider not granting the small request, even with three distractions in tow.
As if to emphasize her thoughts, the girls’ volume upped in the back seat as they squabbled over a doll.
The sign at the front of the café matched the vintage style of the one over Charlie’s Garage. Charlie’s Pit Stop. Cute. Charlie had told Ivy the place was meant to be a spot for garage customers to grab a cup of coffee or a pastry while they waited for their car to be fixed as well as a spot for Westbend residents to meet up or grab some light fare.
Ivy parked near the front entrance. She let the girls out on the sidewalk, and they ran ahead, looping back when Ivy opened the café door for them. Inside, the last remnants of construction dust floated in the sunshine. The brick wall and worn wooden floors screamed original, but the counter, cabinets and shelves lining the right side were definitely new. It was a great mix of retro and redone.
Footsteps sounded from a back hallway, and then Charlie appeared. “Hi, guys! I’m so glad you stopped by. Any chance you girls want to check out my sandbox out back?” Charlie’s gaze shot to Ivy. “Sorry—I should have asked you first. But I have something to talk to you about, so I thought maybe the distraction would give us a second. Is that okay?”
“Please!” the triplets chorused, and Ivy conceded. The drive from Connecticut had been long, and they’d been loving the freedom to play this week.