Page 3

“How long you been at this?” Joe asked.
“Wedding planning? My sister Sofia and I started the business about three years ago. Before that, I worked in bridal fashion design in New York.”
“You must be good, if you were hired for Sloane Kendrick’s wedding. Judy and Ray wouldn’t settle for anyone but the best.”
The Kendricks owned a chain of pawnshops from Lubbock to Galveston. Ray Kendrick, a former rodeo rider with a face like a pine knot, had laid out a cool million for his only daughter’s wedding. If my event team pulled this off, there was no telling how many high-profile clients we might gain from it.
“Thanks,” I said. “We’ve got a good team. My sister is very creative.”
“What about you?”
“I take care of the business side of things. And I’m the head coordinator. It’s up to me to make sure that every detail is perfect.”
We reached the pavilion, where a trio of reps from the rental company were setting up white-painted chairs. Rummaging through my bag, I found a metal tape measure. With a few expert tugs, I extended it across the space between the cords that had been staked out to line up the chairs. “The aisle has to be six feet wide,” I called out to the reps. “Move the cord, please.”
“It is six feet,” one of them called back.
“It’s five feet and ten inches.”
The rep gave me a long-suffering glance. “Isn’t that close enough?”
“Six feet,” I insisted, and snapped the measuring tape closed.
“What do you do when you’re not working?” Joe asked from behind me.
I turned to face him. “I’m always working.”
“Always?” he asked skeptically.
“I’m sure I’ll slow down when the business is more established. But for now…” I shrugged. I could never seem to cram enough into one day. E-mails, phone calls, plans to be made, arrangements to nail down.
“Everyone needs some kind of hobby.”
“What’s yours?”
“Fishing, when I get the chance. Hunting, depending on the season. Every now and then I do some charity photography.”
“What kind of charity?”
“A local animal shelter. A good photo on the website can help a dog get adopted sooner.” Joe paused. “Maybe sometime you’d like to —”
“I’m sorry – excuse me.” I had heard a ringtone from somewhere in the abyss of my bag, repeating the five notes of “Here Comes the Bride.” As I retrieved the phone, I saw my sister’s ID.
“I’ve been calling the dove handler, and he won’t answer,” Sofia said as soon as I answered. “He never confirmed which container we wanted for the release.”
“Did you leave a message?” I asked.
“Five messages. What if something’s wrong? What if he’s sick?”
“He’s not sick,” I assured her.
“Maybe he got bird flu from his doves.”
“His birds aren’t doves. They’re white pigeons, and pigeons are resistant to bird flu.”
“Are you sure?”
“Try him again in a couple of hours,” I said soothingly. “It’s only seven. He may not even be awake yet.”
“What if he’s a no-show?”
“He’ll be here,” I said. “It’s too early in the day to freak out, Sofia.”
“When am I allowed to freak out?”
“You’re not,” I said. “I’m the only one who gets to do that. Let me know if you don’t hear from him by ten.”
“Okay.”
I slipped the phone back into my bag and gave Joe an inquiring glance. “You were saying something about the animal shelter?”
He stared down at me. His thumbs were hooked in his pockets, most of his weight braced on one leg, in a stance that was both assertive and relaxed. I had never seen anything sexier in my life.
“I could take you along with me,” he said, “next time I head over there. I wouldn’t mind sharing my hobby until you get one of your own.”
I was slow to respond. My thoughts had scattered like a flock of baby chicks at a petting zoo. I had the impression that he was asking me to go somewhere with him. Almost like… a date?
“Thanks,” I said eventually, “but my schedule is full.”
“Let me take you out sometime,” he urged. “We could go out for drinks, or lunch.”
I was rarely at a loss for words, but all I could do was stand there in baffled silence.
“Tell you what.” His voice turned coaxing and soft. “I’ll drive you to Fredericksburg one morning, while the day is still cool and we have the road to ourselves. We’ll stop to buy some coffee and a bag of kolaches. I’ll take you to a meadow so full of bluebonnets, you’ll swear half the sky just fell over Texas. We’ll find us a shade tree and watch the sunrise. How does that sound?”
It sounded like the kind of day meant for some other woman, someone who was accustomed to being charmed by handsome men. For a second I let myself imagine it, lounging with him on a quiet morning in a blue meadow. I was on the verge of agreeing to anything he asked. But I couldn’t afford to take such a risk. Not now, not ever. A man like Joe Travis had undoubtedly broken so many hearts that mine would mean nothing to him.
“I’m not available,” I blurted out.