“Goldilocks, you pull up to the front door and get out. I’ll find a parking spot and join you inside. You shouldn’t get that dress wet,” Rowan said.
Normally, I’d fight this macho attitude. It was raining. I wouldn’t melt. But he was right about the dress. I didn’t want to get his nice present wet. It would ruin the silk. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so I put the cart in park. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” he said. “Now hurry inside. I’ll be right there.”
Without another word, I threw open the door and made a break for it. Luckily, we were on the early edges of the unexpected rainstorm, so only a few drops caught me before I made it inside. I chastised myself for not having an umbrella in the cart, but most of the time, I wore jeans or shorts. Getting those things wet wouldn’t ruin them. And I certainly didn’t care about getting my hair wet. It was pulled into a ponytail or messy bun most days.
I glided a hand over my straightened hair and searched for a mirror in the B & B’s foyer. I was checking the back of the dress for wet spots when I caught Rowan entering through the front door. His jacket had more rain spots than I did, but the man looked like he stepped out of a wet dream. Or a romance book.
“You look amazing.” Rowan joined me at the mirror and tugged on his lapels, straightening his already straight jacket. “You certainly class this sailor up by being on his arm.” He smiled down at me and offered his arm, which I took.
A slow smile spread over my face. “You always know what to say. I can’t believe that woman left you.”
The smile disappeared from Rowan. “Well, maybe you’ll understand when I tell you the story later.”
“You’re worse than Thorn and Avery when you tell a story.”
“Who are those people?”
“They’re the town journalists, and you may meet them tonight,” I said, pulling his arm toward the din from the ballroom. “Now, take a deep breath and prepare for the fire.”
“Fire?”
“If BIMBO was the frying pan, we’re about to hop feet first into the fire,” I said.
“Bring it on, Goldilocks.”
Chapter 21
Rowan Rafferty gains an ally
Kendra wasn’t kiddingabout the fire. The Demeter House Ballroom was packed to the gills with Pointers. Soft, golden light spilled from delicate chandeliers, casting a gentle glow over the polished wooden dance floor at the far end. The air was filled with the mingling scents of fresh floral arrangements and a hint of the delicious appetizers being circulated. Guests of all ages from the town filled the room, their laughter and chatter blending harmoniously.
Bolt and Chloe circulated through the crowd, refilling champagne glasses and telling stories. Uma Maddux was deep in conversation with a gray-haired man with a mischievous smile. Those two were oblivious to the other people around them. I smiled and wondered how long they’d been together.
“There they are,” Kendra whispered as she tugged me toward Jesse and True, standing at the head of the room.
True wore a white dress and pouted as she stomped her foot. Whatever Jesse said to her before we got to the party did not go over well.
“You had one job,” True was saying to Jesse.
“There’s the happy couple,” Kendra joked.
“Hey, Ken.” Jesse leaned in to hug her. Kendra recoiled slightly and scrunched up her nose as she patted him on the back and pulled away.
Interesting.
Jesse held out his hand to shake with me, and I obliged.
“True,” I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Everything is lovely.”
“Except for the music,” True said.
I strained to hear the music. “What music?”
True elbowed Jesse. “Exactly. He had one thing to do this week. The engagement party music.”
“Babe,” Jesse pleaded. “I forgot. I have had other things going on.”
