“Great. I’ll hang a few from the elk horns inside.”
“You’d better behave, Quade.”
My name on her lips pounded into my chest like taking a nail straight to the heart. Her voice held the same teasing tone she’d used when we were younger, when she’d catch me snagging muffins from the Inn’s kitchen during one of their huge Sunday breakfasts.
“I’m not sure behaving fits into my skill set,” I teased, my voice softer than I intended.
She ignored my comment while her pen moved across her notepad. “We’ll need extra bracing under the deck if they decide to add that champagne bar they’re talking about. I’ll email you specs.”
The way her mouth tipped down at the edges made me think she’d rather swallow battery acid than communicate with me directly. “You can leave it with Marla if you’d rather.”
“I tried. She said she’d rather have us ‘work together like adults.’”
Of course she did. My Aunt Marla could give Nellie a run for her money when it came to playing matchmaker. She’d always thought Sabrina and I would end up together. Personally, I didn’t see it. Sabrina was too damn good for a man like me. She deserved the whole world and all I ever would have been able to give her was a tiny corner of it. She must have figured the same because somewhere around the time the damn Ex-List came out, we grew so far apart that I was sure we’d never find our way back to the easy friendship we’d had before.
The next hour was pure torture. I watched her walk around, take measurements while bending over in jeans that clung to her curves in a way that should have been illegal, and make notes on that damn notepad. I worked at the pace of a snail, trying to pretend I wasn’t watching the way sunlight slipped over her shoulders. When she crouched to check the joists, the faint scent of coffee and vanilla hit me, and every memory I’d buried came clawing back.
She stood, brushing sawdust off her knees, and I couldn’t take the silence a second longer.
“I never thought you’d come back to the Inn.”
“Marla needed help.”
“Was it really that simple?”
Her shoulder lifted just a bit. “Some things still are.”
I wanted to ask if we could be one of those things, but the words stuck in my throat.
The crunch of tires on gravel saved me. A black SUV rolled to a stop in the long drive. Dust clung to the shiny paint. A woman climbed out wearing heels that didn’t belong on Hard Timber’s gravel roads. She had on oversized sunglasses, glossy platinum hair, and clutched a tablet to her chest like a shield.
“That’s the wedding planner,” Sabrina muttered. “Are you ready for this circus?”
“I was born ready.”
The woman tottered toward us, her hand outstretched. “Are you Trace Quade? The craftsman Marla’s been buzzing about?”
I blinked. “Craftsman?”
“Yes. I’m Mimi LaClaire with Exquisite Events.” She lowered her sunglasses and glanced down at my hammer. “Your aunt told me you could do anything with those hands.”
I caught a quick roll of Sabrina’s eyes before I looked back at the wedding planner. Heat crept up my chest. I’d never been exceptionally gifted when it came to reading women, but she didn’t even try to hide behind innuendos.
“This town is perfect for my client’s wedding. I can see why she wants to hold the whole event here. It’s like stepping into a small-town movie set.”
“We’re excited to host her event,” Sabrina said.
“And you must be Sabrina. It’s so nice to meet you.” Mimi dropped her voice and leaned closer. “You know the bride never would have known about Hard Timber if it hadn’t been for that podcast. What’s the title? Something about Hard Timber’s Ex-List? Uncut?”
My stomach tightened. “Is that right?”
“Yes. My client had me invite him to do a show during her rehearsal dinner. He’s flying in to get interviews from locals. The ones who made the list. The ones who didn’t. The ones who, uh,”—her gaze flicked between me and Sabrina—“might have something to say about it.”
Sabrina’s knuckles whitened around her clipboard. “Is that confirmed?”
“Not yet, but his producer already called Marla.” The planner smiled, oblivious. “It’ll be great exposure for everyone!”
Great. More exposure. Just what I needed. The interest around the podcast had died down a little after Ridge and Gillian got together. The podcaster had stuck around for a couple of weeks trying to get me to talk since I was the last name on The Ex-List, but he finally gave up. Now, with this fucking wedding, it sounded like Hard Timber would be thrust into the spotlight again.
