Perhaps it makes a difference when the woman is Campbell Hawthorne.
The pavilion is safe to look at. Comprised mostly of beams, the long rectangular structure has the same rustic Western style of the guest lodge behind us. If the winter is mild, William has the staff set up firepits or domed tents with their own heaters so guests can relax and take meals in the great Montana outdoors. This whole idea is a new development since I left.
Campbell steps off the path before the pavilion and points down to the barn. “He wants to ride a horse into the sunset with his bride. After the, uh, vows.” Tension lines her face. “He wants to swoop her up and ride away.” She blinks and wipes at her eye. “Sorry. The wind must’ve blown dirt into my eye.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
She sniffs. “About what?”
“If the extra work of readying horses and hoping like hell Stanford can keep his seat and not dump his bride doesn’t give the couple pause, the pure corniness has to.”
She scowls. “It’s not corny.”
“It’s corny. Cheesy. Lame. Whatever the kids say these days. Moreover, it’s a hazard. The horses the guests ride are used to people. They’re used to the trails and cattle. They’re not used to galloping away with two riders.”
“I reiterated all that to the bride and groom, and it’s not lame. It’s romantic.”
I scoff. “A groom riding in on horseback?”
“Maybe not that part, but riding off into the sunset. With the mountains in the background?”
“Superfluous at best.”
She lets out a frustrated huff. “It is not. There’s nothing more Hawthorne Ranch than a wedding with horses.” She stomps toward the pavilion.
Why is she championing some over-the-top nonsense the bride and groom?—
Shit. I charge after her. “It’s what you wanted.”
She stops, her body ramrod straight.
Aw hell. The birds around us chirp away, unaware that I just insulted Campbell’s dream wedding that she has to plan for her cheating ex and her cousin. “You wanted to ride off into the sunset with the love of your life, and now you have to plan that for January.”
She stuffs a boot into the grass. “Like you said, it’s corny anyway.”
“No.” Yes. I shove a hand through my hair and grip the back of my neck. “It’s over the top, yes, but if youcan’t be over the top on your wedding day, then when can you?”
“Good cover, but you think it’s silly. You made it clear.” She pins me with her sad gray eyes. “Just don’t make your opinions known to them, please.”
Thepleaseon the end cuts right through me and lets the guilt pour out. “I won’t.”
“The ceremony will take place on that end.” She pretends like the moment never happened and points to the far side of the pavilion before swinging her arm to the middle. “The chairs will be moved and tables set up for the meal, and the wet bar will be in the back. Dance floor and band where the altar was. We can roll the partitions down for any sun, wind, or rain that interferes with the day, and we have the screens for when it’s getting dark and the bugs are out. The family meal will be in the bar in the lodge, but the bridal luncheon and groom’s dinner will be out here.”
Her tight-lipped smile does nothing to make me feel better.
I meet her gaze with an assessing one of my own.
“Are you sure you don’t want someone else to bartend?” she asks, catching me off guard.
“Why?”
“Can you serve drinks without looking at someone like they’re the most inane person you’ve ever met?”
“I do it every week.”
She cocks her head. “Do you though?”
I cross my arms. “Care to explain what that’s supposed to mean?”
