Page 23 of The Heartbreaker Next Door

Something flickered across her face—warm and quiet and real—and I filed that small moment away carefully, because something told me it was going to be the only thing that went right today.

By five thirty, I was pulling up to the ranch in full damage control mode. The only reason the bride wanted to get married at the ranch was for the ocean and vineyard view from the ceremony location on the south pasture. She had no problem with the ceremony being covered by a clear tent, the problem was that, with this weather, there was no way we could hold it in the pasture. Guests would be trudging through mud, and the chairs would sink into the ground. The barn would not give her that same view.

After getting to my office, I pulled up the map of Lockhart Ranch. There was a building near the south pasture that I’d never been to. It wasn’t named on the map, it was just a structure.

I called Wes Bennett, head of maintenance. When he picked up, I asked what that structure was. He explained it was basically a concrete slab with walls and a roof. Apparently, Selma had planned to build a chapel out in the field, for brides who wanted a church wedding, but once Dean took over the finances, the project was put on hold.

I asked if he could take me to go look at it. A few minutes later he’d pulled up in his truck. I ran from the side door to the passenger side as I was assaulted with raindrops.

“Isn’t raining on your wedding day good luck?” he asked as he drove us out to the field.

“Rain, yes. Flooding, not so much.”

He pulled up to a structure, and we went inside. I saw it was exactly how he’d described it. A shell of a building, with exposed wooden beams, cathedral ceilings and the entire north facing wall was glass overlooking the vineyards and ocean.

“Do we have electricity?” That was my main concern.

He nodded. “We have electricity and plumbing.”

“So we could have the wedding here,” I thought to myself, but realized I said it out loud.

“I just need to make sure everything is up to code before I can let you put people in here.”

“Okay.” I looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to check.

“I’m going to have to go back to my office and pull permits,” he explained, clearly sensing my eagerness. “I’ll drop you off on the way.”

“Thanks.” I left the structure, already planning what I could do with the space.

“So how is little man doing?” Wes asked as he made the short drive back to the admin buildings.

“He’s good.”

“His dad around?”

I wasn’t used to people being so forward and asking such private questions. But since I’d relocated here, I’d found there was no filter when it came to asking personal things.

“Sometimes,” I responded honestly.

Tanner came around when it was good for Tanner. He’d never been a stable influence in Maverick’s life. If anything, he was the opposite. He’d promise him things, camping weekends, trips to Disneyland, toys he wanted, and then would flake.

“He’s a good kid,” Wes declared as he pulled back up to the admin office.

“Thanks, I think so.” Everyone at the ranch had been so welcoming of Maverick. They treated him like he belonged, like he was one of them. They’d even made him his own employee badge.

I got back to my office and waited with bated breath for Wes to give me the green light on whether or not the “chapel” could be used. I sat at my desk planning for both contingencies. Once I got the go-ahead, or not, I needed to be ready. I didn’t want to speak to my bride until I had solutions.

Within five minutes I drafted a plan for what we’d need to accommodate not only the ceremony but also the reception in the chapel so the guests wouldn’t have to change venues in the pouring rain and/or mud. Then I spent the next five minutes drafting a plan to sell the bride on the barn location. Both were in play until I heard otherwise.

Finally, after what felt like five hours, but was most likely fifteen minutes, my phone vibrated with a call.

I answered it.

“It’s a go,” Wes cheerfully reported.

First comes the crisis. Then comes the cavalry.

The instant Wes gave me the all-systems-go, my hands were already dialing—call after call as I delegated the war plan in my head. There’d be no time to wait for the rest of the staff to trickle in. I needed bodies and brains and brawn, and I needed them now. I sent out an S.O.S. Before I knew it, half the kitchen had mobilized, the head of security was laying down rubber mats, and the Lockhart brothers were out there debating the merits of open seating versus fixed aisles in a building that, an hour earlier, had been considered little more than a shell.