Page 23 of Eighteen Bowties and Counting

Beau nodded over to the huge riding and training facility across the street—Courage Reins. “The big barn over there.”

She detected something in his voice, but when she looked at him, he wore nothing but the pure shininess of a newly minted copper penny. “Will there be dancing?” she asked.

Beau looked at her then, his thoughts coming closer to the present than they’d been a moment ago. She could just see it in his eyes. “Sure will.”

“Are you a good dancer, Mister Peterson?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile. He started moving toward the edge of the lawn that met the dirt road, and she went easily with him.

“And modest about it too.”

“My momma said it was okay to admit when you’re good at something,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I’m bragging. I’m just saying I’m good at it.”

“So…will you dance with me at the wedding tonight?”

“Depends,” he said.

“On what?”

“If it’s going to freak out your heart.”

Charlotte wanted to snap back at him, but then he added, “Because my pulse is already goin’ nuts with you on my arm, so maybe we should do a raincheck.”

She dang near fell down, and she looked at him with wide eyes. “Your…what?”

“Let’s talk about it after,” he murmured just before he went into full public-relations mode and said hello to Ethan Greene and his wife, Brynn. They had three children with them, all pre-teens if Charlotte could predict ages. Since she’d been nannying kids that same age for a while, she felt certain she could.

The real Beau Peterson disappeared behind the foreman version of him, and Charlotte mourned his loss. Still, he was handsome and funny, charismatic and outgoing, and she enjoyed being next to him as they mingled with others from the ranch.

Everyone flicked their eyes to her for a moment, but no one made any comments about her being there with him, and she’d moved her hand out of his arm before they’d reached the grass. She thought about his racing pulse, the look he slid her every so often, and the way he’d invited her to this wedding.

If they weren’t dating yet, he definitely wanted to start. And Charlotte found she wanted that too. She hadn’t been out with anyone in a long time—nannying four children and living with her brother wasn’t the most romantic of breeding grounds.

She barely knew which way was up right now, and she told herself she had plenty of time. So she could enjoy this wedding, start her new job, and figure out how to live with the cowboy for more than twenty-four hours before she started a romantic relationship with him.

“I have to go line up,” he said, leaning his head down and creating an intimate bubble between them. “I’ll be back in a bit. Save me a chair?”

“Up front?”

“The wedding party is up front, yes.” He raised his head then, and Charlotte caught a flicker of unrest in those beautiful eyes. Beau walked away without saying anything else, leaving Charlotte to find her way to the rows of chairs with the altar up front.

Not that it was hard. The crowd swept her along, each cowboy and his lady wearing something fancy and fine. Their Sunday-best hats, and more black suit jackets than Charlotte had seen even at church.

She found a few rows up front that only held women, and she suspected their cowboys would make up the wedding party. She walked on her glass heels and approached, leaning down to say to one woman, “If my…the man I’m with is in the wedding party, can I sit here?”

“Sure thing,” she said with a smile. She indicated the rest of her row, which was third from the front. “I need to be on the end for my husband.”

“No problem,” Charlotte said as she squeezed by her. “I don’t know—we’ll be fine wherever.” She figured Beau would have to walk around and over people all day, so it didn’t really matter. Everyone would be doing it once they came in.

“Who are you here with?” the woman asked. “I need three seats. My sons are in the line too.”

Charlotte moved down another chair and set her phone on the one she needed for Beau. “Uh, I came with my cabinmate, Beau Peterson.”

“Oh, you must be Charlotte.” The woman’s whole face brightened, and she leaned over the trio of empty chairs between them. “I’m Juliette Ahlstrom. Garth’s wife.”

Charlotte simply smiled and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Garth and I used to live in your cabin,” she said. “He was the foreman here before Beau.”

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