“Yep. Mrs. G taught me. We used to watch musicals in between old Westerns.”
“I love classic movies. Even have a blog about them.”
“Yeah? Cool. Any favorites?”
“That’s a big question. How about we save it, and you can tell me about the town. Mrs. G said your aunt used to own a bed-and-breakfast on the hill?”
“Yep. I didn’t spend as much time here in Loving as my older brothers, but we’d come here some summers and holidays. Changed when the house burned down, my aunt passed, my mom too, and then my dad.”
“I’m sorry.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Loss can be hard.”
“Yeah. We got through it, with help from Mrs. G and people like the Georges and the Careys. And my brothers. We stick together. What about you?”
“I lost my parents too. We were all we had, so it was rough.”
He circled his thumb on her palm. They slowed as they reached the end of the river path. The leafing trees created a green bower overhead, sunlight filtering through the lacy branches, birds carrying on a melody with the light wind.
“You’re a strong person, to walk through that alone.”
She glanced at him. His serious, admiring gaze sank a sense of surety in her that she hadn’t felt from someone else in a long time.
“I had friends. And there’s a song I could sing for that.”
“Go ahead. Why not live in a musical if you can?”
She touched his shoulder. “My sentiments exactly. How about some exposition before another tune? I’d like to hear more about you and your family.”
“Same.” He began with a story about how his parents met, their courtship, and how he and his brothers spent some summers here and some on the ranch, learning to ride horses, rope cows, and run themselves around until they slept out on the summer porch in a bunch. Skirting over his parents’ deaths, he told her about his brothers and their wives and girlfriends, and how many of them had now moved to town, until it was only his oldest brother, Adam, his new wife Minnie, and Flint, left on the ranch. She shared some of her own stories, too.
“Have you heard the story of the town?” he asked
“I have. I’m glad Dr. George and some of her family are still here. I hear her relatives have a reunion every July and march in the parade, some dressed like their Buffalo soldier ancestors.”
“Yep. We used to watch the parade as kids. I’d like to treat you to the Careys’ ice cream special and watch the parade with you.”
“We’ll see. Sounds fun.” Her heart flitted like one of those musical birds because he wanted to include her in future plans.
He nodded. “There’s my aunt’s old place.” He pointed to the hill overlooking Main Street. “Want to go up? It’s got a great view. My brother Dean lives in the cottage now. He and Ethan are thinking of rebuilding the B & B, though maybe just as a private house again.”
“Sounds like a lot of changes in your family.”
“I roll with it. How’re you settling in here?”
She felt into his question. It had been a hectic time, and she hadn’t taken much time to reflect. “Better now.”
“Tell me more about your family,” he said. He listened to her tales of her parents and their travels, and how she adjusted to her new life in college after their passing, as they walked across to Main Street, past Careys’ and some of the other quaint and quirky shops, the planters overflowing with spring bulbs and flowers and greenery, and up the grass-patched hill. A bench—make that two—were set looking out over the town and the river.
A tremor of doubt shook her when he stayed silent as they admired the summering landscape. The mountains in the distance still topped with snow, but the hills in town had lost their frost, ready for the coming season. This could be home, this beautiful place.
Glacier National Park had been the last vacation she’d taken with her parents, which was why she’d chosen college in Montana, even though it put her far away from the dance career she’d once envisioned for herself in New York or San Francisco or Paris. High school frenemies had accused her of being not brave enough to forge ahead as a plus-sized dancer, but she’d been ready for that challenge. She supposed she’d already been moving away from those dreams to new ones even when she started college. Six years later, she was twenty-four, a waitress, a film blogger, a soon-to-be dance teacher, and happier than she’d been since that vacation.
He asked if she wanted to sit, so they did, and he asked about her blog. That got her going, and soon the sun shone high in the sky, at least an hour passed, she and Flint trading favorite film quotes and scenes, best snacks to pair with a movie, and making each other laugh with goofy impressions and strange comments they’d received from others who didn’t share their love of classic movies.
“We better get lunch.” They rose and he raised their hands up then dropped them again. “Any hope I have anything to do with that better now feeling?”
“There’s hope.” She bumped her hip on his. “Need to see how you do on the dance floor.”
“Ready for the challenge.”
“No competition, no pressure.”
“I don’t mind a little pressure.” He smiled and pointed to his cheek.
“Are you asking me for something?” She knew what he wanted: a kiss. And she wanted to give it, but she liked people to be explicit in asking for what they wanted.
“A kiss, if you please?”
She smiled, leaned up and brushed her lips on his warm cheek. The clove and citrus scent of his aftershave coupled with the fresh breeze made her lean into him, her bones jellifying. No brief kiss had ever had such an effect on her. He held her loosely, but close. Their breathing synced and he rested his head on hers for a moment.
Home, she was home. Her parents had talked about this feeling that came with love: a sense of safety, of coming back to yourself, of knowing. And she knew, knew this could be the beginning of something beautiful.
His stomach growled, making her giggle.
“Hey, I didn’t get much breakfast,” he said. “There was a certain woman flustering me with her allure.”
She turned, grinning up at him before batting her lashes and doing her best vamp pose.
“You’re quite a woman, Mandy Thurmburg.”
“I know.” She flitted her fingers across his chest.
He grasped her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers in a quick movement. A tingling sensation shot through her hands and to her heart, increasing her certainty that Flint was worth her time, and that with more time together, something special could happen between them.
“What about that lunch?” she asked, cupping his hand in hers.
“Let’s get to my truck and I’ll give you the driving tour.”
She nodded. She’d follow him anywhere, like Chérie said to Beau in Bus Stop.
They walked down the hill, and though the warm fizzies stayed, she let go of the urgency of wanting him. This was no movie, it was life, and while she liked to be spontaneous, she didn’t do causal when it came to romance. They had time, and she’d enjoy today with him.
He pointed out more town landmarks and gave tidbits of local lore as they ambled to his car in a roundabout way, behind Main Street and up Willow before ending at Mrs. G’s street. He held his truck door open for her and handed her into the cushy seat. Once he was settled, they drove out the old highway. Flint named the ranches and businesses, the hills and creeks. Eventually he stopped at a red-painted farm stand with a covered area lined with shelves and produce stalls, and a seating area filled with picnic tables.
“I come out here at least once a month when they’re open,” he said as he helped her out of the car and up to the farm stand. “Good to support other local businesses, and we buy some of the produce for the restaurant at the lodge from Becky and her husband.”
Walking the rows, her hand found Flint’s again, and that well of safety and certainty deepened. She tugged him along as she exclaimed over the huge heads of broccoli
and the shades-of-amber honeys, the locally made soaps and bright sunflowers, the mushrooms and herbs.
Flint grabbed a basket and loaded it with everything she admired. “Need groceries?” she asked with a wondering glance at his overflowing basket.
“Hoping you’ll come to dinner tomorrow. Will you?”
Her stomach fluttered along with her lashes as she glanced at him. His cleft chin and sparkling gaze flooded her with warm honey. It seemed soon to go to his house for dinner, and she really wanted to. “Just the two of us?”
“What would make you comfortable?”
She worried her lip. “Mind if I think about it?”
“Take your time. The invitation stands. How about those pies?” He stopped in front of a bakery case inside a small building that backed the more open area.
She peeked in, perusing the various golden, small pies. “I’ll take a spinach-feta.”
“Hi, Becky, how are you?” he asked the woman behind the counter.
“Flint, good to see you again.” She eyed Mandy with a friendly curiosity.
“This is Mandy.” He introduced them and explained that Mandy worked at Gallagher’s.
Polite inquires exchanged, he ordered a pork-greens pie, hers, and a spiced sweet potato square, as well as two huckleberry sodas. She offered to contribute to the bill, but he declined, paid, and left what looked to be a generous tip in the jar on the counter after thanking Becky.
Mandy carried the soda bottles and they found a table that looked out over the fields and to the mountains and evergreens in the distance. Flint sat next to her and they chatted about the scenery, the food, and movies, and ate and drank the just-right soda.
Everything about this, the moment, the setting, being with Flint, seemed just right. Like home.
She shifted in her seat, a raincloud of doubt moving in. She felt everything she wanted to, everything her parents had shared about love. But she also knew real love took time, and she and Flint had only just met. It seemed too soon to be so sure, so comfortable and anticipatory and happy. It was a wonderful day. And she wanted more, one wonderful day after another with Flint Manning by her side.
Chapter Five
Flint drove Mandy to his house to drop off the groceries he’d bought at the farm stand. Every moment with her made him more sure she was the one, only problem being he didn’t believe in that sort of thing: the one, true love, and all that. He had nothing against it, but as his confidence had returned, so had his skepticism about love and romance.
Being with Mandy—he wanted that—but he wanted her to be happy, and he wasn’t sure he was the one to do that for her. Yet as he drove up to the old bunkhouse he and Ethan had had remodeled, and she craned her neck to see everything, and her gaze popped, and she exclaimed over the ranch, he could see her here, with him. Walking through the fields, feeding the chickens together, sitting on the porch with coffee and watching the sunset, carrying her over the threshold...
He shook his head. These thoughts weren’t like him. He’d decided as a teen on a bachelor life, and he saw no reason to change that. Until now.
“You okay?” Mandy asked. “You seem kinda serious.”
He shrugged. His feelings were serious, and it was a change. “Did you want to come in, or wait while I put this away?” He gestured to the bags in the back.
“Mind if I wait in the garden? I want to enjoy the sun.”
“Please do.” Maybe neither of them was ready for the intimacy of being in his home alone together.
Huh, Flint Manning, slowing down and thinking through possibilities with a woman. Change hadn’t just come for his brothers.
His brow furrowed as he put away the provisions he’d bought, wanting to do something for Mandy, wanting to show her he wasn’t just some guy, that he wasn’t trifling, as Mrs. G warned him against. He rolled his shoulders and shelved his thoughts about himself and what all this with Mandy meant. Because today was about having fun, introducing her to the town and people, and, maybe, opening a new path for both of them. While he was used to galloping forward without concern about paths or what lie ahead, this time, with Mandy, he wanted to slow to a trot and take in what was happening and where she wanted to go.
Meeting her outside, he smiled at the way she wandered, touching the leaves on the aspen trees, fingering the growing sweet pea vines, and finding a heart-shaped pebble in the path.
She showed it to him before moving to drop it back down. He grasped her hand and closed his around the stone and her fingers.
“You can keep it.” He placed another hand on hers.
“How about I set it there?” She pulled him toward the porch and he followed with growing appreciation for the surprises she heaped on him. Setting the stone on the little table between two rockers, she turned to him. “I’d like to have it here, for next time.”
“I’d like that, very much.” His voice hoarse, he didn’t bother to clear it, or pretend he wasn’t jumbled with feelings. He wanted to kiss her, but mindful of what she’d said earlier, he held her hands instead and let his gaze travel over her sweet face: her high forehead, her flowing hair, her plump cheeks and lips, her sparkling brown eyes full of fun and fondness.
“I really like...your house,” she said then grinned.
He laughed full-out and held out his arms. “How about a hug, Miss Playing it Like Elizabeth Bennet.”
She joined his laughter. “You surprise me. And you’re not much of a Mr. Darcy.” She stepped into his embrace as he gave her his best prideful, arrogant look that he associated with the Jane Austen hero.
“What, you thought I was a Wickham?” he asked, trying to keep up the playful banter, but instead trailing off and basking in her warmth, how she held him tightly, how perfectly she fit in his arms.
She let out a contented sigh then stepped out of his embrace. He wanted more, but he respected her boundaries.
“People talk about you that way, like you’re a womanizer, but you’re just you. Better than some fictional hero, even.” She grasped his hand and he stepped next to her.
“Thanks. I think the talk about me is greatly exaggerated.” He grinned. “In any case, I’m done with Wickhamming. I’m focused on this woman who’s appeared and who’s worth waiting for. Let’s get to the wedding. I want to dance with you.”
She returned his cheerful expression. “Can hardly wait.” She squeezed his hand and they walked to the truck. Slowly, he handed her into the cab and they gazed at each other, this time more serious and searching.
He didn’t know what to say as they drove off, so, for once, he let the silence sit. He didn’t even mind. Mandy was here with him, her scent of roses and spring and possibility embracing him as tightly as she had.
Luke and Dolly had decided to have their wedding at West Ranch Bed and Breakfast, so he and Mandy were soon there, having retraced their way out of town. Autumn’s cousin Mike had created a great destination in the old place, cozier than Manning Lodge, and offering outdoor experiences catered from his boyfriend, John Raines, and Wade Davis’s sporting goods store on-site out of the remodeled barn. Flint pulled the truck into the field they used for event parking and he and Mandy walked with others up to the rambling old house, which Mike had renovated last year. As one of the managers at Manning Lodge, Flint liked to keep up with local building and lodging. The ceremony had already occurred, as Luke especially was a private person, so the couple had opted for a small ceremony followed by a big-ish reception held inside and in the garden of the B & B.
“This is beautiful!” Mandy’s smile and wide eyes zinged pleasure through him. “Autumn grew up here?”
“Yep. Her cousin Mike’s done a great job with it.”
“I hear you have a lodge out at your family ranch?”
“True. Happy to show you around anytime. My brother Dean will be getting married there in a couple of weeks. Would you like to be my guest?”
Her steps faltered as they walked up the front stairs of the inn. She pulled him to the side
on the rocking chair lined porch. “It feels good that you’re including me in your plans, and I need some time. This” –she waved her hand between them— “is happening really fast, even for me.”
“Understood.” And he did. If she’d consent, he’d elope with her right now, that was how sure he was about her, about them. But he got that commonsense wise, they needed to slow it down. They were both young and there was no need to rush. Except that he wanted to spend every possible moment with her, didn’t want to see other women, or for her to date other people. “I just really want to be with you.” He caressed her arm and met her gaze.
“Thank you. Let’s be together today.” She touched his cheek with a sweet smile, that one he’d first been drawn to when they’d met.
He wanted to be okay with what she was saying. He was okay with it on one level. But that grip of...fear or nightmare shivers that sometimes dogged him rode with him, chasing him down. He swallowed hard and nodded, for now outpacing his pursuer.
Placing his hand on the small of her back, he led her in. Introductions began with Mike and John; followed by quick hugs from the Careys and Georges, who’d already met Mandy; and Mrs. Davis and Ken Taft, who, as close friends of Mrs. G, also knew both of them.
Mrs. Davis smiled at both of them. “So happy to see you two beautiful young people here together. Love is in the air this last year, and it seems to be continuing.”
“The town lives up to its name,” Mandy said with calm and a hint of amusement.
“You’re quite a young lady,” Mr. Taft boomed and clapped Flint’s back. “She’ll keep you on your toes.”
“He’s upright enough as he is,” Mrs. Davis said, waving a hand at Mr. Taft with a sharp look. “Have you met my nephew Wade and his wife Irene, Mandy?”
Wade Davis and Irene Molloy-Davis walked up, both shaking hands with Flint and Mandy.
“Yes, they came into the café a couple of weeks ago.” Mandy nodded to Mrs. Davis.
“Well, you’ll want to introduce her to your brothers,” Mrs. Davis said, tilting her head toward the bar area. He glanced over and sure enough, there were his brothers and their significant others.
Sweet May Page 3