Tricia and Guy Scampy, one of country music’s biggest power couples, stood here ready to perform.
Nate’s gaze dropped to where Tricia Scampy’s rounded belly filled out the lavender overall shorts she was wearing along with a plain white tank top. He’d think she was dressed pretty subdued if it weren’t for the ridiculously tall, wedged sandals with rhinestones.
He liked McKenna’s Birkenstocks better. He liked everything about McKenna better.
“So you guys know this is for free, right?” Nate asked, letting his gaze wander onto Guy, who looked like he could double for a young Keith Urban with his longish, light brown hair, blue jeans, and fitted black T-shirt. “I hope my dad explained that we can’t afford to pay you anything.”
Guy smiled with a perfect set of teeth. “Don’t worry. We’re not expecting to walk away tonight with any cash in our pockets.”
“Oh.” Tricia snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. From your dad—” She dug into her pocket and dropped a check into the donations box on Nate’s table. “For an emu, apparently?”
Nate eyed the amount on the check. No emu in the world cost that much. “All right. I sort of get why my dad’s willing to help. But why are you guys doing this?” Surely two famous country stars had better things to do than perform a free concert on a Saturday night in the tiny town of Bugle.
Tricia rested a hand on her belly. “Let’s just say we owe a few favors.”
“To who? My dad?”
“Yeah, and maybe that guy too.” Guy pointed to where Bass Harry the First was clutching a clump of black fabric to his chest as he whimpered about the goats destroying his lucky hat. “He certainly looks like a man who could use a favor.”
“So should we go ahead and hit the stage?” Tricia asked.
Before Nate could respond, Gus was rushing toward them. “Hey Nate, we’ve got trouble.”
“What’s wrong?” said Nate.
“What isn’t wrong? Bass Harry’s too upset about his hat to perform. Tall Harry said he didn’t know his act was supposed to be clean, so now he’s only got one joke and he’s worried everyone’s already heard it. And Hairy Harry said he’d rather everyone find his YouTube channel so they can listen to his unabridged lecture on jazz the way God intended, but he is still willing to sign books if the table’s not too wobbly. All that to say the crowd’s getting restless and Lottie’s really stirring the skepticism. Georgie told the kazoo choir to go ahead with “The Star-Spangled Banner” before things turned ugly, but we’re going to need someone to hit that stage soon if we don’t want a riot. Any chance that guy with the sock puppet is here?”
Nate pointed at Tricia and Guy. “I’d say now’s a good time to hit the stage.”
Gus looked at Tricia and Guy, looked back to Nate, then did a double take to Tricia and Guy. “Hey, aren’t you those one people?”
“We are those one people,” said Guy. “So you tell Ms. Skeptical and all her negative ninnies to hold on to their hats because Tricia and Guy Scampy are about to set that stage on fire.”
“Ooh, I like that,” said Gus, rubbing his hands together. “But I’ll probably leave out the hat part. Bass Harry’s having a hard-enough time as it is. By the way, Nate. A big guy named Oliver showed up. Said he’s the boyfriend. Georgie handed him a chicken and told him to stick close to the coop.”
“Is it me or is this turning into one of the goofiest gigs we’ve ever done,” Guy mumbled to Tricia.
“Oliver made it?” Nate said to Gus. “Perfect. Now we just need Bobbi. Where in the world is Bobbi?” Nate had no sooner said the words when he spotted McKenna’s rental car rounding the curve toward the B&B.
Finally.He felt himself take his first full breath of the evening. “I don’t want to go too far out on a limb here, but I think everything might actually be coming together.”
“Any requests?” Tricia asked.
“Just one.” Nate tore his gaze away from McKenna’s vehicle long enough to grin at Guy and Tricia. “I need you to sing the crooniest, longest, most romantic version of the closest thing you have to a Harry Connick Junior song while a guy the size of a moose proposes to his chipmunk-sized girlfriend. And I’m going to need you to let a beautiful redhead take as many photos of you as she wants all night long, which may require posing with a chicken or two.”
Tricia nodded a few times, then looked to her husband. “I’m thinking we’ll be good on all our favors after tonight.”
As Bobbi continued spouting off wild accusations in the car, McKenna parked the car at the bottom of the driveway in front of the barricade, then shot off a quick text to Nate.She thinks we’re engaged.
“What is this? Why are all these people here? Don’t tell me this is an engagement party.” Bobbi yanked off her seat belt and twisted to face McKenna. “Or is this your wedding?”
Okay. McKenna had reached her limit of ridiculousness, and considering everything that had happened the past three weeks, McKenna considered that a pretty high threshold. She unlocked the door and climbed out of the car while Bobbi did the same. “Would you settle down and try thinking rational thoughts for one solid minute?”
“I refuse to be your maid of honor,” Bobbi said, slamming her door shut.
“How about a solid ten seconds?” McKenna said, starting up the driveway.
“Where’s this husband of yours? Shouldn’t he be here to greet you?” Bobbi folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. “And what’s with all the stupid chickens?”
