She grabbed at something to say so she wouldn’t have to stand there, watching him look irresistible with the giant walking hair ball. “So . . . is the dog yours or everyone’s?”
“Beau is the family dog, though technically Trevor bought him.”
Trevor. The brother with the suite downstairs. The one she’d only seen on their website and never met. He was supposedly the inn’s recreation supervisor, whatever that meant.
“Is Trevor out or . . . ?”
Roark glanced down at Beau, sitting obediently by his side. “Something like that. A vacation of sorts, I guess. Sophie, Dev, and I are dog-sitting while he’s off doing whatever it is Trevor does.”
Madison nodded, tapping a finger on her bag. Of course the Bradley siblings were taking care of their brother’s dog. While they’d stared daggers at each other a couple of times when they thought she couldn’t see, they were clearly a close family. Close enough to communicate nonverbally and give each other hell.
She couldn’t imagine having a couple of brothers and a sister, able to read her mind, always on hand to do whatever she needed.
Watch the dog for me, refill my coffee, run a resort inn with me.
Part of her envied Roark, the other part knew she’d get hives from having someone in her business like that.
Roark tugged on Beau’s leash. “Go ahead and order if you’d like. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Okay.” She shifted the strap of her bag farther up her shoulder and watched him leave.
When he turned back, he caught her gaze with a smile. “There’s Wi-Fi all over the inn, by the way, including the restaurant.”
“You gave me the password at check-in.”
“Oh, that’s right . . . okay, cool. Back in a bit.” He tugged the leash and the dog bounded after him.
Madison took a steadying breath and headed to Bradley’s. “Cool.”
The hostess seated her at a table by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, with a perfect view of the mountains and the lake. A waitress immediately showed up with a steaming cup of coffee followed by a small basket of biscuits and a lazy Susan containing butter, what looked like molasses, and honey.
Madison leaned over and inhaled a big whiff of biscuit.
“Oh dear lord,” she said on exhale.
No wonder a world-traveling music star remained obsessed by this place. Whitney was from the Southeast, and Honeywilde provided all of what was best about the South: the food, the warm, welcoming environment, the relaxed atmosphere, the gorgeous weather.
Madison grabbed a biscuit, cut it in half, and slathered it with butter before Roark could return and see how much she’d put on each side. The temptation to hurry and eat one now, and pretend like a second one was her first, was immense. She took a sip of her coffee while the butter melted. Roark appeared in the restaurant doorway a moment later.
Damn.
Not because she’d missed her opportunity for biscuit scarfing, but damn.
He spotted her and strolled over, saying hello to a few of the guests. His face was full of color from the morning air, his dark hair slightly tousled from the wind. He was still put together, top to bottom, in dark gray slacks and what looked like a ridiculously soft polo shirt, but she could easily imagine him less cleaned up.
Ruffled from the outdoors, his hair mussed up even more, smelling like sunshine and evergreen, and a day or two of scruff on his jaw. He was the kind of man who could work a bit of stubble. The kind who made your lips pink after kissing him, and rubbed deliciously against you in . . . other places.
Madison jerked her gaze down to her biscuit. Work, work, work. Job, job, job. She was not here to salivate over biscuits and Roark. She grabbed a menu, ready to fan her face when she caught herself.
“Hey.” He pulled his chair out and sat down across from her. “Chillier than usual this morning, huh?”
She put the menu back down. “Yeah. Chilly.”
He smiled at her, his little dimple and eye crinkles very close and undeniable. She hadn’t girded enough for this meeting.
“These are unreal. Good luck eating just one.” Roark reached for the basket of biscuits.
She bit into hers and her taste buds danced a can-can. “What is in this thing?” she asked, struggling not to moan and melt in her seat.
“Flour, eggs, the usual. But more buttermilk than you’d care to know about.”
She took another bite. Maybe if she focused on the inn’s other attractions, she could ignore the one sitting across from her at breakfast.
Time to put her train of thought back on the tracks. “I was going to say, a biscuit is all I have time for. I need to find a florist, today if possible.”
He shrugged. “Eat and run. I understand. But if you’re only having the one biscuit, you have to try it with our honey.” He turned the lazy Susan so the little pot was in front of her.
She twirled out a bit and let it slowly swirl over her biscuit.
Roark smiled at the waitress as she came over to pour him coffee and top off Madison’s. He told her they were only having coffee and biscuits and waited until she walked away to lean forward. “You mentioned florists earlier.”
“Yes, Whitney wants a specific style, so I need one who’s willing to work with me on being untraditional.”
He kept his voice pitched low. “I know a great florist in town. We use her for the inn and she’s open-minded about whatever we have in mind. There were some crazy lantern-flower things that Dev wanted last Halloween, and she managed to find them. Anyway, she’d work with you on whatever you want, won’t ask a lot of questions about who’s getting married or blab all over town about anything.”
“Sounds promising. Did she do the gladioli in the reception area?”
“She did.” He grinned. “And the arrangement over there.” He nodded to a magnificent natural spray with greens and browns that flowed perfectly with the restaurant’s rustic yet classy feel.
“Nice.” Madison bit into her honey-covered biscuit half, and immediately gawked at Roark while reaching for the little honeypot. “The food here is ridiculous. You know this, right? The honey is . . .” She drizzled more in lieu of more gushing.
“That’s why I said you had to try it. It’s our honey too. We keep the bees right here. My grandpa was a keeper, hence the resort name. Honeywilde was his baby, from the ground up.”
“Kudos to your grandfather.” She closed her eyes, toes curling in her shoes. The butter was the right saltiness to compliment the honey’s sweetness, and the biscuit was out of control. All of the food so far was out of control. No wonder the restaurant had a steady flow of patrons, even if inn traffic was slow.
“Anyway, flowers.” Roark chuckled, probably because she looked like she was having a religious experience. “The florist I mentioned, Brenda, she’s the one who suggested Honeywilde have a signature color too. Apricot. I’m telling you, she’s your top choice in town.”
“What’s the name of her shop?” She was tempted to leave the biscuit stuck in her mouth as she leaned over and pulled her portfolio from her bag.
“Brenda’s.”
Naturally. No fancy flower shop names for Windamere, North Carolina. “I’ll call her for an appointment. Maybe I can speak with her later today.”
Roark laughed, shaking his head. He ate his biscuit and kept shaking.
“You don’t think I’ll be able to speak with her today?”
“You can speak to her all you like, but with less than three weeks’ notice, she’s going to show you the door when it comes to getting flowers. She stays booked up.”
“Then why did you—”
He held up the other half of his biscuit. “But, since she does stuff for us all the time up here, I could talk to her. She likes me.”
Madison bet she did. “You’ll call and put in a good word?”
“Things will go more smoothly if I go see her with you. I need to talk to her about our fall arrangements anyway, and Brenda is . . .” He broke o
ff to look out the window, amusement toying with his face, his dimple dipping in, fine crinkles at his eyes. “She’s a lot more likely to cut you a deal with me there.”
This was not part of what she’d had planned. Roark was a big, tall glass of distracting, and she needed to focus. Less time around him, not more. She didn’t want to rely on him more than she already did, but if it got her a deal on the best florist in town, she’d be crazy to say no.
One of his dark eyebrows eased up. “Unless that’s a problem.”
Why would his help and accompanying her be a problem? If she made out like his joining her was an issue, then it would be. And she was the one with issues, not him.
“I only want to make sure this wedding is the best it can be, for both our sakes,” he said.
“I know. It’s not a problem.”
They ate their biscuits in silence, Roark glancing at her like he wasn’t quite convinced. True, spending the morning with him was a complication she hadn’t counted on. But it wasn’t his fault she wasn’t prepared to partner so closely with him on this event. She knew the wedding was going to be a concerted effort, but knowing a thing and actively doing the thing were two different things.
He squinted over at her again, and Madison jumped to a topic to stop him from trying to figure her out.
“Did you leave Beau outside?”
He shook with an exaggerated shudder. “No. Beau is an indoor dog. He’s up at reception now. Our woolly welcome wagon.”
“He does have some wild hair.” But she liked it. Beau’s hair was disturbingly similar to hers if she got out of the shower and didn’t do a darn thing to it.
Roark chewed and nodded. “That’s because he’s a Double Doodle.”
Her laugh was a half cough of coffee. “A what?”
“Labrador retriever, golden retriever, and standard poodle mix.” He cocked an eyebrow as if to say I know, right?
“I never knew such a thing existed.”
“My sister found him when Trevor had to have a dog. The mix doesn’t shed and he’s as laid-back as they come. Perfect inn dog.”
She eyeballed another biscuit, decided what the hell, and doused half of it in honey.
“What about you? Any pets?”
She almost choked again on the absurdity. “No. I—no. I travel a lot with my work. I can’t even keep a houseplant alive.”
Roark drank his coffee, barely making a sound, his quiet consideration making her skin tingle. It took every ounce of her control not to fidget under his gaze.
As quickly as she could, Madison finished the rest of her coffee and half of her biscuit. “Are you ready to hit the road?”
“I’m set.” Roark stood, pushing his chair in before helping to pull hers back. “I can drive us into town.”
“You’ve got the Southern gentleman routine down pat, huh?”
“What do you mean routine?” He sounded more amused than offended.
“The pulling out of chairs, holding of doors.”
“Manners and social graces were big with granddad. I was about twelve when he passed, but by then, he’d already drilled into me how I was to behave around guests and grown-ups.”
“Do you hold doors for male guests and offer to drive your male business acquaintances around?”
“I might.” He wrinkled his brow, but with a playful tone in his voice.
“If it’s all the same, I’ll drive,” she told him.
He shrugged like it didn’t matter to him either way.
That’s how she ended up with Roark in her Audi, his broad shoulder nearly touching hers, his arm taking up all of the room on the center console.
“We should’ve taken my truck,” he muttered, shifting in the seat. “Not out of some male power-trip thing, but your car is pretty damn small.”
“There’s plenty of leg room.” Madison fluttered her hand around her neck. “And did you just say damn in my presence?”
Roark rolled his eyes. “Stop it. And yes, I did.”
She took in the way he filled up the bucket seat. The sight of his long legs and thick thighs assuaged any guilt over his discomfort. “I need to know where Brenda’s is located so I can get there alone. And if I drive somewhere once, I know it.”
He leaned over.. “Do you know how to get into town?”
Madison hadn’t a clue.
Roark stared, waiting until she quickly met his gaze. Those gray-blue eyes were too near, too striking. She kept her eyes on the road.
“Down the mountain?” she tried.
His puff of laughter was so close, the warmth brushed her cheek. “Yes, down the mountain, smarty-pants. And after that?”
“No.” But he’d called her smarty-pants, like they’d been comrades for months.
Madison didn’t know if the familiarity was merely Roark’s nature or because he was accustomed to siblings, but he had a casual way of joking, teasing her as though they knew each other. The truly strange part was it didn’t bother her as much as it normally would. If anything, it eased her self-doubt.
“Then a right onto Main Street and Brenda’s is on the corner. Got it?” he asked.
“Got it.” She hadn’t heard a single word of his directions.
It didn’t matter though. He ended up repeating all of it; precise, detailed instructions on where and how to go as they reached each turn. Something told her that his brother and sister never agreed to drive him anywhere.
A strip of brick stores took up the corner of Main and Broad Streets, and Madison parallel parked a few doors down from the shop. Brenda’s Flower Shop had a glass front, the window filled with trendy décor and gift items, artificial wreaths, and arrangements in unique combinations.
“Roark!” a voice cried out as soon as they got in the door. A woman, maybe in her midfifties—with her impeccable caramel skin, Madison couldn’t tell—standing not much over five feet tall, floated toward them with outstretched arms. “What on God’s green earth has made you drag yourself all the way into town?”
Madison made it her business to study the refrigerated cases along the wall, all filled with the usual roses and arrangement fare, along with seasonal flowers and unusual greenery.
Roark hugged the lady, their reflection filling the glass door. “It’s not that far. You act like I never leave Honeywilde.”
“You don’t!” Brenda exclaimed, her voice sharp in the small shop filled wall to wall with wares. “It takes a force of nature to get you down here. Nothing caught on fire, did it?”
“I came to talk to you about our next arrangements for fall. And to ask a favor.”
“Anything for you, handsome.” Brenda smiled up at him before turning to look at her. “And who is this lovely young lady you’ve brought to my store?”
Madison met Brenda’s gaze in the reflection of the case. If she was capable of blushing, she’d be red from head to toe.
“Brenda, this is Madison. She’s an event planner from Charlotte and she’s planning a wedding at the inn.”
Madison turned and smiled.
“And she is gorgeous. Look at you.” Brenda fussed over her, taking Madison’s hands and holding them out. “All put together, and I can tell you’re smart. You look like you could be doing national news on CNN or something.”
A pang of nerves bounced around her chest at the attention. Brenda seemed sincere in every word, and Madison wasn’t sure if she was flattered or embarrassed or both.
“I bet you put on one fine wedding, don’t you?”
“I . . .” She stumbled for a reply. Compliments directed toward her personally, rather than toward her events, were totally foreign. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever met anyone who was as up front with them as Brenda.
She didn’t know what to say. “I . . . think so. Yes.”
Roark must’ve noted her struggle, because he got down to the reason for their visit.
“Wedding flowers in three weeks?” Brenda fisted her hands on her hips “Roark Bradley, have you lost your mind?”
<
br /> “No, ma’am. And it’s not all me. It’s Madison’s wedding.” He thumbed toward her, trying to share the blame. “Please, Brenda. I need you to make this work. You can’t say no.”
“Did I say no yet?” Brenda put one hand out, counting on each finger. “I can make it work, but I’ll need to order from my supplier by next week. Rush delivery. We’ll need to make a decision this week on what and how much, to get it in time. I’ll have to work nights to get the arrangements and bouquets done, along with what’s already on slate.”
“I can make it worth your trouble,” Madison promised her.
She had to work with Brenda, and not because of the compliments or her welcoming nature. Her conviction behind all that warmth, the obvious dedication; when Brenda said she could make it work, the statement was fact, not fluff.
Roark was right. Brenda was the florist.
“If you’re willing to work with me on style and getting the bride what she wants, you can name your price.”
Roark cocked an eyebrow at the both of them. “I’ll have you know, I did not get the same offer for the wedding location.”
Brenda patted his arm. “That’s because you’re not me, honey.”
“I know. I’ll owe you for this. Please say yes.”
Brenda considered him, hands still on her hips. “You most certainly will owe me one. One meaning you’ll come into town more often. Last time I saw you was in the Italian place with that nice little teacher. What’s her name?”
Roark lowered his chin and muttered, “Annabeth.”
Madison gave the cut flower case another once-over.
“That’s it. Whatever happened there? If you don’t want to take Annabeth out again, take Madison here. A nice man like you should get out more.” Brenda was on a mission, but then, Roark was the one who’d said he owed her.
He wrapped an arm around Brenda’s shoulders. “I’ll do my best, but who has time to date? Are you dating?”
She smacked at the hand on her shoulder. “We’re not talking about me.”
“I have an entire resort to run, and increasing business for me means better business for you.”
“I know, I know.” She patted the hand she’d smacked. “I’m mothering you. I can’t help it.”
A Moment of Bliss Page 6