Page 30 of The Wedding Ranch
“Really?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why not Charlotte?”
“No.” He was sure of himself. “You don’t have that banker look. Not a computer geek either. More of a Raleigh look.”
“And how does a Raleigh person look?”
He was in over his head. The banter was quick. He and Valerie had always gone at it like that. He’d been able to think fast on his feet back then, but that had been seven years ago now. Out of practice, and a little uncomfortable, he bailed out. “No comment.”
“Probably a good idea.” She winked, a perky smile lifting her cheeks.
He laughed. “Come on. This way.” He jogged ahead to open the door. “After you, ma’am.” Air conditioning flowed from inside, a relief from the afternoon heat.
She made a beeline for the rows of baked goods. Valerie had always insisted on looking at all of them too. What was it about ogling food you can’t even try that intrigued women? All the entries looked pretty much the same to him. He moved along at her pace since she seemed to be enjoying it.
“Do you bake?” he asked.
“No. That’s why I admire the people who can. I can barely get the pop-can biscuits to come out like the picture.”
His laugh came so quick, it almost choked him. “There’s an art to homemade biscuits, but those canned ones, they don’trequire much skill. I think I can give you some tips on those myself.”
“Thanks.” She mused, glancing around. “I’d starve if I had to rely on my cooking. Thank goodness there are a few good restaurants in town.”
“Speaking of food, I promised you some. I’m going to grab us a couple barbecue sandwiches. These are the best. Keep looking. I’ll catch back up in a minute.”
He kept an eye on her as he waited in line at the BBQ booth. She wasn’t making an obligatory pass. She was really into it, checking each of the entries out and truly enjoying herself. He got the sandwiches and two bottles of water. He caught up with Lorri, who was looking at batches of homemade cookies.
“This might not be what you’re craving after staring at all those baked goods, but I think you’ll like it better than that blue cotton candy.”
“Thanks.” They ate while walking down the last row of baked goods—the tiered cake category. There were lots of traditional wedding cakes, but also contemporary and theme cakes.
“I like this one.” Ryder stood in front of a four-tiered cake.
“I’m drawn to the trendy semi-naked cake. The sugar flowers are so realistic and the bluish-green eucalyptus is such a nice contrast to the pinks.”
“Are you kidding?” Ryder laughed. “Looks like someone just swept their finger around the edges to steal the frosting. I turn every cake that sits on my counter too long into something that looks like that. Doesn’t take much talent, just an appetite for sweets.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we just ate, or some of these cakes might be in danger.”
“Truly,” he said with a nod.
“Thanks for the sandwich. That was the best barbecue I’ve ever had, and I’ve had my share,” she said.
“Glad you liked it.”
She took a sip of water from her bottle then lifted on her toes. Delighted, her eyes flashed. “Quilts!”
“You quilt?”
“Oh no.” She flipped a hand in the air as if he’d made the craziest assumption possible. “I don’t quilt either. In fact I don’t do much in the domestic area at all.” She double-stepped over to the display of quilts. She wandered through the ones hanging from the ceiling, her chin to the sky moving as if she were navigating a maze. “These are gorgeous.”
“Takes a lot of work.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Mom used to spend hours in front of her quilting frame, hand-stitching the final patterns. She always said that was the most precious part of the quilt, although you didn’t even notice it unless you really looked.”
The black and red quilt on his bed now was one his mom had made for him. In the hand-stitching in one of the corners she’d sewn the words, “Sleep soundly every night knowing I love you, son,” something that no one knew but the two of them. That memory made him miss her. Some days it was like she’d been gone forever rather than on a road trip with his dad, especially when weeks went by with no phone call. He wasn’t even sure which state they were in now. “Mom loved quilting.”Memories of her holding the ribbons she’d won in this fair went back as far as he could remember. She used to have an old Christmas tree in the corner of her project room that was filled with mostly first place ones.
“Oh, I’m sorry. When did she—”
“She’s very much alive. Sorry. I just haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Where does she live?”
