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The room is tastefully decorated with elegant white roses and LED candles. No imported flowers here, thank god. I look around the room and feel the love everywhere. It's one of the rare high-end weddings where kids are invited and it feels like a party. Everyone is dancing, everyone is happy, no drama. I just want to hug everybody.
Maybe what I want is to dance with someone.
Before I start feeling my feelings around all these people, I should probably go and get started on the Evans wedding. What I need is a challenge, so I'm looking forward to seeing how elaborate of a wedding I can pull off in a week, and the Evans wedding is just the challenge I need.
Chapter Five
Smitty
"Let's go check on the mamas, Charmander."
Yes, I named my horse after a Pokémon character. When I get to name the animals around here, that's pretty much how it goes.
I had a fun time in the city, but I left a day early. It was not much fun without someone to spend it with.
It's now Monday morning, and I'm headed to check on the mama cows who are due to have their calves any day now.
Char saunters up to the birthing barn and I leave her by the water trough while I check on the girls. Currently, we've got about twelve moms close to birthing.
When I come up on Slowpoke's pen, I see her pacing in circles and mooing. I approach and hold out my hand to rub her neck. "Baby's coming soon, darlin', don't worry. Any time now."
I make sure she's got plenty of water and straw to get comfortable.
While I'm mucking out some of the other pens, I hear all the usual sounds of morning on the ranch: birds chirping, cattle calling in the distance, brush hog clearing brush.
What I don't expect to hear is the sounds of tires spinning and a small engine revving just outside the barn.
"Be right back, Poke," I say to the cow and step outside. The pile of mud I see was probably a white Prius at one time. What I can gather from this scene is someone has driven onto the property, gotten lost, and gotten their hybrid rollerskate in the mud. The driver switched on the windshield wipers to clear the mud from the glass, but the windshield should be the least of anyone's concern because it's obvious by looking at the tires, that car isn't going anywhere anytime soon.
It must be Ally. And Ally needs help. Slowpoke can wait; she's got hours of labor ahead of her.
Standing in front of the vehicle, I wave my arms to get the driver's attention. Through the muddy windshield, I see the same woman whose social media I creeped on the other day. And, OK, about five or seventeen times since then.
Ally has a countenance of determination that is admirable. She's very adamant about getting nowhere fast as she continues to pump the gas.
Finally, she looks up and sees me. "What? I can't hear you."
I have to chuckle as I walk over to the driver's side. Seeming to realize rolling the window down will probably result in making a muddy mess of the tiny motors inside her driver side door, she opens the door to talk to me.
When she opens the door I see a dark purple blazer, hair tied up in a professional bun, and eyes that immediately soften when she looks me up and down, which makes me feel a bit bashful.
"You colored your hair," I say, noticing a lighter shade than what I've seen of her online.
She looks at me curiously and I realize I've just given myself away.
"Mr. Smith?" she says.
I nod and lift my hat and inch off my head and plop it back down. "That's me," I say, looking apologetic.
She beams at me and her smile is just as killer in person as it is on the screen. Ten times more, to be honest.
"You left the place very clean," she says. "Thank you."
I can't help but smirk. "Yeah, I patched the hole in the wall real good. I told my redneck friends to cool it but they insisted on a full-on rager."
She chuckles and says, "You covered up the evidence of your crimes impressively. I might have to hire you to clean the place next time I rent it out."
I shake my head, feeling like a dope. "I'm sorry. You're stuck and I'm standing here letting your car sit in the mud. I'll help you get out."
