Marrying Up

by Abby Knox

  Her expression does not change. "And how many more do you have?"

  I stuff my hands in my pockets and study the ceiling of the barn for answers. "Well, I think I might have a spool of rope somewhere around here but it's not this big."

  Ally doesn't look upset or impatient, but all business. "Right, OK. So this is the table I want for the reception. Exactly like this. We'll need at least ten. How many can you get?"

  I pull off my hat and scratch the top of my head. "I guess I can check at the utility company and see if there's something like that they're not using…"

  Ally seems satisfied with that and walks off to measure the barn windows, chattering about how she'll remember to wear jeans tomorrow and maybe pick up some boots. When she senses me still standing there watching her, she turns and smiles at me. "So are you gonna call them or?"

  "Oh, you mean right now?" The smile she shoots my direction says she caught me staring at her ass, and she doesn't hate it. What are we doing here? Are we working or are we flirting? Sam would have my hide if he saw me wasting her time like this.

  Right. Time to stop staring at that tight little body, that skirt that's beyond ridiculous for someone to wear while trying to do any kind of work on a ranch — even if that work is wedding-related — not to mention that form-fitting blazer that looks like it's just barely constraining two softball-sized melons.

  I'm the worst. I'm not the best man, I'm the worst man. I'm a pervert, still staring at that dangerous silhouette, not even trying to hide it.

  "Yeah, now would be good. And if they need the tables returned to them, please tell them we're going to paint them white, I hope that's OK."

  Again, I scratch my head. "I don't think that'll fly, but…"

  It seems like the more she sashays those hips around the barn, the faster she talks.

  "Well, that's all right, you just tell them," she says, skittering off to measure the corner of the room. "You tell them this is what we want or we go to another vendor. I know it sounds harsh so if you need me to do it, I can do it."

  I hesitate, looking at my phone. "Thing is, I don't think the utility company is gonna care either way if we walk."

  "Fine, I'll just buy them, I'm sure I'll be able to reuse them. As soon as I 'gram this wedding, everyone is going to want spool wedding tables for their reception."

  "Gram?"

  She pauses to think on that for a moment and then clears her head. "Instagram."

  "Oh, right. I don't have one of those," I say, for no reason I can think of. Why am I still talking and not making calls? Good gravy, this woman. How is it that I'm the best ranch manager in three states but I can't manage to get my ass in gear with this little lady bossing me around?

  She turns to me for a second, her rigid tape measure stretched out about eight inches. She taps the end of it thoughtfully against her cheek, and I feel a bonfire blazing in my belly at the things I'm thinking about. If she knew the things I'd like to press against her soft cheeks, she'd smack me clean across the face and I would say nothing but "much obliged to you, ma'am."

  I am not the good boy she thinks I am.

  She suspects nothing, just smiles and lifts one eyebrow. "You should, you know. Nice looking cowboy like you would have a zillion followers in a hot second. All you need is a good photographer to follow you around all day long."

  I shake my head. "All of that sounds like my personal nightmare."

  She laughs with a charming little snort and gets back to work. I like how she's not one of those people who covers up her mouth while she laughs. I dial up the utility company and get transferred about fifteen times before leaving a random voicemail, probably somewhere in Timbuktu. I hang up and wait for my next set of instructions.

  Ally is moving efficiently as she can in those heels and I have to tamp down the urge to carry her again. Her feet must be killing her. "So the petting zoo will go over here. And the cake cutting stage over here, but we'll need to move these water troughs. Is that going to be a problem in any way?"

  A petting zoo? A cake-cutting stage? I'm starting to think I should have never let her down off the horse, but instead I say, "Not a problem at all, ma'am. You'll get everything you need."

  Chapter Eight

  Ally

  Why does the party supply store put the best stuff on the top shelf?

  Story of my life.

  "Here, let me."

  The masculine voice behind me can be no one else but Smitty. I've been making some stops in town on the way back to the ranch this morning to see what of decorations I can get my hands on for Sam and Wren's wedding. It turns out this mom and pop place is even better than the chain party stores I sometimes lean on when I'm squeezed for time.

  My face goes completely starry-eyed when I turn to watch my cowboy friend reach up and fetch me the spool of the good tulle that I need. His eyes squint, giving the impression that being indoors and looking directly into fluorescent lighting is harsher than sunlight. What is he doing here? I thought he had ranch chores to do in the mornings.

  "Ma'am," he says with a nod, handing it over.

  "Thanks," I reply. "They should provide step stools if they're gonna put the good tulle on the top shelf."

  One side of his mouth turns up and my gaze zeroes in on the whiskers right there. "They could, but then I wouldn't have the honor of helping you get your tools."

  "Oh, not tools. Tulle. T-u-l-l-e. It's this." I point out the gauzy soft material on the spool. "But very cool of you not to think it was weird I was calling fluffy wedding decorations 'tools.' You're very kind."

  "Oh, I see. My mistake. Wedding nomenclature is not my strong suit."

  How badly do I want to hug him right now for using that word? So bad my arms ache.

  "Stop it. You're a great assistant wedding coordinator," I tell him.

  Smitty stares down at his boots, his fingers in his belt loops. "Thanks," he says. "You'd be a pretty good ranch worker."

  I shake my head because I know this compliment is just him scraping around to think of something to say. After all, he's feeling awkward and I make him nervous. "That's nice of you to say but, no. My skill set is quite limited to party planning and not much use around a ranch."

  Smitty looks up and looks me in the eye. "Me, I'm just good at getting things from the top shelf, so together maybe we make something productive."

  We both nervously look away when the double meaning hits us at the same time. My face feels hot. As a rule, guys don't make me blush. The guys that hit on me at weddings are usually half-drunk and don't mean half of what they are saying. This guy is dangerously close to making me catch real feelings for him.

  A scratchy voice squawks over the store loudspeaker, something about needing additional cashiers to the front.

  "So…things not busy on the ranch today?"

  Again, his eyes go to his boots and then back up to me. "I sorta…got done early so you could dominate the rest of the day," he says. I watch as his cheeks demonstrate a time-lapsed tomato ripening. My god, someone put this boy out of his misery.

  My dopey grin has nowhere else to go; I have to let it out. "Dominate? Sounds delightful."

  "That's not what I meant," he says, rubbing his eyelids with his thumbs.

  "It's OK!" I say reassuringly. "It was meant to be. I needed you, obviously." I wave the tulle in the air to remind him of how necessary he is.

  "I meant to say I enjoyed meeting you in person, and I enjoyed your company, and I'm happy to be of service," he explains, his fingers seemingly trying fruitlessly to wipe away his fierce blush.

  I'm still smiling; my hand goes to his arm to steady myself. "How are you allowed to be so adorable?"

  "I…uh…"

  "I mean it."

  He steps away from me to make room for a shopping cart being pushed by a harried mother with two toddlers climbing the basket. I watch as he nods and tips his hat to the mom, giving her an encouraging smile. Oh my god. I can't handle how pure this man is. I don't think I've
ever witnessed anyone behaving this conscientiously toward other people. Well, anyone except my Gramps.

  And then he tips his hat at the little kids.

  How? How is he still single?

  You know the answer to that, Campbell. Because he's yours. Now go and get him.

  Shut up, I say to my lizard brain. I don't want to spook him. What if he's one of those emotionally unavailable dudes, just like the rest? What if he's one of those guys who "doesn't like to put a label on things"? You don't know what you're getting into.

  After the mom and kids pass, he turns back to me, and all embarrassment seems to be gone. His shoulders are square and a look of determination has taken over his countenance. "Where were we?"

  I smile flirtatiously and put my hand where it was, on his forearm. His sleeves are rolled up; his skin is warm to the touch. "About here?"

  He smiles back at me and idly passes the side of his thumb over his bottom lip. "That's exactly right."

  Oh. My.

  "Ally, would you like to have lunch with me right now?"

  It's the "right now" that gets me. Guess I don't have to worry about bringing him out of his shell. He likes me. He is wasting no time. I like this. A lot.

  My stupid eyes blink at him quickly several times in a way I can only assume is some kind of evolutionary holdover, because eyelash batting is not my preferred style of flirting. I check the time on my phone. "Isn't it a little early for lunch?"

  Again with that mouth curving up on one side. "Girl, I've been up since 4 a.m. Helped birth two calves. Fixed a tractor. Replaced some rotting fence posts. Mucked out horse stalls…"

  "Oh my god, now I'm tired and hungry thinking about all that work. Let's go."

  Chapter Nine

  Smitty

  Being called cute is not my first choice, but I'll take it. Especially when it's coming from Ally. If I'm cute, it just means we're a good match, because she's the cutest thing since Pikachu was invented.

  Her little white Prius suits her. "Hey, I hardly recognize your chariot when it's not covered in mud. It cleans up nice."

  "Thanks," she says, unlocking it with her fob. "Where do you want to eat?"

  I'm so relieved she didn't question me on why I was in the party store in the first place, that I'm more than happy to let her choose the restaurant. I couldn't tell a lie if she pressed me on it. Truth is, I saw her car in the parking lot when I was passing by on my way back from delivering eggs to the beekeeper.

  She peers around the parking lot and suggests a decent Mexican place that might be open early.

  "This way we can walk together instead of driving separately," she says, as we fall in step with each other.

  "I like the way you think," I say, making sure to keep my stride a little bit shorter. She's in another one of those tight skirts and high heels. "Plus I'm hungry and we get free chips and salsa."

  I hold out my arm for her to hold on to. She grins shyly and slips her little hand through the crook of my arm while we walk. "I like the way you think, too."

  Chapter Ten

  Ally

  When I arrive at the ranch the next morning, there are twelve spools already arranged in the barn, exactly as I had planned.

  And, to my astonishment, they are already painted white. "How in the…"

  "I hope it's all right, I went ahead and painted them for you."

  I spin around to see Smitty standing there, white paint on his hands and jeans. "How? When? More importantly, why?"

  Smitty leans one arm against the barn door frame, which makes his torso look extra long and lean and huggable. He tips his hat back and examines something in the wood, then pulls off a jagged splinter with his bare fingers while I wince. "Oh, you know. I had the time."

  I know that's a lie, but I'm so grateful. "That's one less thing to take care of. Thank you so much."

  "Listen, I uhm… I might have… cleared out my schedule for the day. The rest of the guys have it pretty well handled, so what else do you got for me?"

  I have to bite my lip to keep from licking it, and giving away all the dirty ways I could answer that question.

  "Well, sure. I have a whole list of things. But you don't have to. I mean, I can't pay you."

  "Your company is payment enough, little lady."

  Oh jeez, the number of people I would allow to call me "little lady" is a very short list. One name appears on that list; that name is Smitty.

  "It's above and beyond. And legally I should be paying you, it's not right."

  He shifts his hips and moves his arms so his arms are now folded while he leans, and it's just unfair how small his waist is in comparison to his shoulders. "If you insist on paying me then we should just go for it."

  "Uhm… go for what?"

  I suddenly feel thirsty. Looking around, I notice there's no water hookup in here, which could be a problem for the reception. Must have water, must have toilets. Anyway, focus, Campbell.

  "Well, for starters," he says, "I have some ideas on how to get a petting zoo."

  "You do?" Now I'm amazed and thirsty.

  "And my guy will probably save Sam some money. Feel like going for a ride in the country?"

  I smile curiously. "We are in the country."

  "I mean, way out in the country. It's a long drive."

  The thought of taking a road trip with this man should send off all manner of red flags, but it doesn't. I want to do this. I mean, right now I could run away to Mexico with the man and forget about weddings forever.

  I nod in agreement, and Smitty jumps right in by making a phone call while I make calls to check on the DJ, flowers, and catering.

  I soon figure out what he means by "a deal" on the petting zoo. When he tells me the price, I am in utter shock.

  "Why would he do that for free?"

  "Well, he's an old friend of Sam's. The only problem is, we have to go and get the animals and equipment ourselves because the guy's got an event happening at his farm there tomorrow night. And he said he could put us up for tonight since it's kind of a drive."

  I look at the GPS map on his phone, and I realize what he means.

  A few hours and two state lines later, we're barreling down a gravel road with Sam's livestock trailer in tow.

  The countryside is somewhat flat and treeless, but the fields are pretty and dotted with white farmhouses, red barns, and windmills. It's like The Wizard of Oz but in color.

  When we finally reach the long driveway, the iron arch over it reads, "Morning Glory Farms and Event Center."

  It's the cutest little spread I never expected to find in the middle of nowhere. The rambling old farmhouse has a quaint wraparound porch. A bright red barn lies beyond the house, and beyond that is a directional sign pointing the way to the bed and breakfast and the art studio.

  We follow the farm road out to the event center.

  People are busy setting up rows of straw bales, a flowered bridal arch, a bandstand, and a dance floor under a massive tent.

  Smitty introduces me to the couple in charge, Maggie and Jackson, who somehow seem to be doing all of this work despite having five, six, seven small children running around the property with another half dozen dogs and cats adding to the chaos.

  The adorable couple shows us the petting zoo animal barn, filled with assorted calves, chicks, lambs, baby goats, donkeys, even baby alpacas.

  "Do you think this will suit your needs?" Jackson asks.

  "I think this is above and beyond. Wren is going to lose her mind," I say.

  Maggie answers all my questions while Jackson and Smitty work out the details of transporting the animals in the morning.

  Maggie and I make our way back to the men, who are finishing up with the wedding prep. "And I'll help you load up the animals first thing in the morning," I hear Jackson say.

  "We don't necessarily have to stay if you need to turn over the rooms for the bridal party tomorrow," I offer, still not sure how comfortable I am with the idea of staying the night in the same pl
ace as Smitty. I'm not afraid of him—not Smitty, the perfect gentleman. I'm more worried about me jumping his bones in the middle of the night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Smitty

  "We could make it back tonight, but I'm pretty tired," I say, stretching out on a blanket under the tree at the guest house. My belly is full of Maggie's homemade comfort food. Ally is lying on her side across from me, having a glass of wine.

  Maggie, Jackson, and their posse of kids and critters all up and left our spontaneous picnic, insisting that the kids can help put away the dishes and clean up.

  "Yes, we could, and we probably should. Shouldn't we?" Ally is bent over her day planner, crossing off things and making more notes in margins.

  I roll over on my side and watch her chew nervously on the inside of her cheek. "What do we have left to do on that list, partner?"

  She sighs. "Well, the caterer and the bartender has been scheduled, I found an up and coming vegan caterer who is eager to impress, so fingers crossed. Sam has agreed to let me use the lavender in the field for floral decorations and bouquets, which I can make myself on Friday. Should be pretty simple and we can save on flowers. Other than the food, that's the most expensive thing on this list. We won't have a deejay, but Sam is going through Wren's music collection, getting names of songs to use, which my assistant will burn onto some CDs. The judge is taken care of. Chairs and a dance floor and centerpieces have been ordered. So really, all that's left is decorating and setting up chairs, which you and the guys will help with on Friday. Tomorrow I'm going to hunt down a dress in the city, and I've already got some dressmakers setting things aside for me. So, not much," I say with a smile. "I think we're ahead of schedule."

  "Good, because it's so nice here, I kind of don't want to leave," he says.

  I smile at him and I see the mischievous look in his eye. "I don't really want to leave until the morning either," I say.