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“Well, welcome to Haver’s Creek Inn. We appreciate you stopping by and considering us for the venue of the annual Police Officer’s Gala. Our on-site chef prepared the spread you see before you.” Clarence waved his hand across the food with a flourish, then he leaned in and whispered to us, “He trained in Paris you know.”
“Impressive,” Whitney said admiringly, although I’d bet money she’d worked with famous chefs back in LA.
“Please help yourselves.” Clarence handed us each a plate. Wasting no time, I piled mine high with a sample of everything. Whitney, more judicious, grabbed a few bites of things.
“Shall we begin the tour?” Clarence popped out of his chair, before adjusting his bowtie. “Follow me.” He escorted us through a few smaller rooms that would be perfect for a work retreat but not a gala. It didn’t matter, because it was the end of the tour where the real viable option was, the large decked out barn that served as a hotspot for young millennial couples.
Clarence told us about the space, then left us to explore it on our own.
The space was huge. Wooden beams crossed the ceiling with string lights expertly strung across them. Two massive chandeliers lit the space, contrasting against the wood.
It was straight out of a fairytale.
And that’s why it was used by pretty much everyone in town for every big occasion.
“This place is stunning,” Whitney said in awe. “My clients in California would pay a crap ton of money to get this type of barn-chic experience.”
“It certainly is something, but I don’t think this is going to work.”
Whitney whipped her head around to face me. “What do you mean?” She looked angry, like she didn’t trust me not to sabotage the process. “Why won’t this work?” She slowly made her way to me from the other side of the barn where the guests would sign in.
I crossed my arms. “I don’t think this is the space for us.”
Whitney started obsessively clicking the pen in her hand. “This place is fantastic. It’s gorgeous, it can actually accommodate the projected number of people set to attend the gala, and the food is some of the best event food I’ve had, and that’s saying something.” She propped a hand on her hip, giving her thumb, and her pen, a rest.
“If I had to ballpark it, I’ve been toat leasteight weddings here, three of which happened this year alone.”
Whitney’s nostrils flared ever so slightly as she breathed in. “It’s too perfect—that’sthe problem?”
“Pretty much. But then what do I know? I don’t do this for a living.”
Whitney set all her stuff on a nearby chair and began pacing the room. Fascinated, I took a seat myself, watching her every move. She scoured the entire barn, checking out every nook and cranny, leaving no detail left unseen.
Several minutes, and a couple laps around the barn later, Whitney took the seat directly next to me, her posture upright and stiff compared to my laid-back slouch.
“Have you really been to that many weddings here?” Whitney asked.
I nodded. “It’s by the far the most popular place to get hitched in Haver’s Creek.”
I placed my arm around her chair and began playing with a string of her windblown hair.
“Damn. I thought this was going to be the place.”
“It’s okay, Sprinkles.” I lightly caressed her shoulder. “We’ll find something else that works. I promise.” I watched as goosebumps elevated on her arms, a warm sensation coming over me that I evoked such a reaction.
At least until Whitney shot right up out of her seat.
That was like a splash of cold water to the face.
“We can go now,” she said, grabbing her things and practically running towards the barn entrance.
As we started our goodbyes to Clarence, Whitney’s phone rang. She excused herself, taking the call.
“Hi, Sav, everything alright?” I heard her answer before she got out of range. I shook Clarence’s hand again before following Whitney.
When I saw Whitney’s face go white, I picked up the pace, taking the stairs two at a time.
Chapter 15
