For the next six hours, we work.
It’s a blur of activity. Hattie and her staff from Sweetbuns take over the kitchen, filling the air with the scents of roasting meat, cornbread, and spicy chili. Josie and Gus man the bar, setting up taps and arranging glassware.
I find myself working alongside the Sloan twins. They are fascinating to watch. They communicate in a shorthand of nods and hand signals, anticipating each other’s moves before they make them.
“Banner needs to be higher,” Carrie says, pointing to the rafters.
“On it,” Lila says, grabbing a ladder.
Sammy, the intern, is tasked with decorating the tables. She’s tying red bandanas around the mason jars that will hold wildflowers.
“Does this look right?” she asks me, holding up a jar.
“It looks perfect,” I tell her. And it does. It looks like Muddy Creek. Rugged, simple, and a little bit wild.
As the afternoon wears on, the room takes shape. The hay bales are arranged in semi-circles around low tables covered in red-and-white checkered cloths. Twinkle lights are strung up, replacing the harsh fluorescent overheads with a soft, warm glow.
The stage is cleared. The sound system is tested—the bass thumping through the floorboards, vibrating in my boots.
I stand back near the bar, wiping sweat from my forehead. It looks amazing. It looks like a place where people want to be.
“Not bad,” Josie says, leaning against the bar next to me. She hands me a bottle of water. “For a lawyer, you have decent taste in decor.”
“I have good teachers,” I say, nodding toward Pearl and Dot, who are currently arguing with Gus about the pricing of the domestic beer.
“Willa looks better,” Josie says quietly.
I look toward the office window. Willa is inside, organizing a stack of signed rodeo jerseys and gift baskets. She’s laughing at something Carrie said.
“She does,” I agree.
“It helps that she’s surrounded by people who love her,” Josie says. “This town has her back.”
I think about the men back at the ranch. Are they thinking about me? Do they know I’m here? Are they angry that I’ve been staying away?
Boone’s face flashes in my mind. The way he looked at me in the rain. The things he did to me.
I push the thought away. I can’t deal with that right now. I have to focus on this. If tonight fails, I lose the ranch. If tonight succeeds... I still have to figure out what to do about them.
The sun begins to set. The parking lot starts to fill up. Trucks and cars are arriving, their headlights cutting through the twilight.
The energy shifts. The work mode fades into anticipation.
Dot walks over to me, adjusting her spectacles. “It’s time, dear. You need to go get changed. You can’t meet your public wearing jeans and a T-shirt covered in paint.”
I look down at myself. She’s right. I have splatters of primer on my sleeve and flour on my jeans.
“Go,” Pearl says, shooing me toward the door. “We’ll handle the final touches. Go put on something pretty. Show these boys what they missed out on.”
I laugh. “Okay, I’m going.”
I walk out into the cool evening air. The stars are just starting to peek through the breaking clouds. For the first time in a week, the sky is clear.
I get into my truck and drive the short distance to Pearl’s guest house. I rush inside, Wellsy greeting me with a happy yip.
I take a quick shower, scrubbing the paint and grime from my skin. I stand in front of the mirror, debating. I don’t want to look too fancy. I don’t want to look like the city lawyer. I want to look like me.
I pull on a pair of dark wash jeans—my good ones—and a fitted button-down shirt. It’s blue, a deep, vibrant color that matches my eyes. I leave the top button undone and roll up the sleeves to my elbows.
