Rolling Like Thunder. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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hear them. “Aren’t we supposed to meet the Chance family at a saloon called the Spirits and Spurs tonight?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Then once we get there, you can buy me a drink.” It wasn’t what she really wanted from him, but for now it would have to do.
FINN WOULD HAVE liked to watch the presentation again, but Chelsea wanted to polish it some more. She spent the rest of the trip, including the layover in Salt Lake City, tweaking it. And she accused him of being anal.
After they landed in Jackson, they picked up the gray SUV she’d reserved and he drove to the little town of Shoshone while she continued to play with the PowerPoint file.
“You’re missing the scenery.”
“That’s okay.” She didn’t look up from the screen. “I’ll see it on the way back.”
“Surely it’s done by now.”
“Mostly, but every time I look at it I see one more thing I want to fix. The presentation tomorrow is super important.”
“I’m well aware of that, but the version I saw on the plane should do the trick.”
“It’s way better now.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard of her laptop. “There. That font pops more than the other one.”
“There’s such a thing as working a project to death, you know.”
She glanced up. “Did you really say that? You, a card-carrying member of Perfectionists Anonymous?”
“I’m beginning to think you founded the club. I don’t remember you fiddling this much with the O’Roarke’s Brewhouse PowerPoint.”
“That’s because I worked on it in the middle of the night and you weren’t there. How would you feel if something this important was riding on your expertise?”
He contemplated that. “I see what you mean.”
“Thank you.” There was triumph in her voice. “If you’d been the one responsible for this very important PowerPoint, you would have made me drive while you worked on it.”
“Well, you’re going to have to stop because there’s the Bunk and Grub up ahead. We don’t have much time to check in before we head over to meet the Chance family at the saloon.”
She turned off her laptop and tucked it into her carrying case. “Looks just like the picture on the website, a cute little Victorian. With a name like the Bunk and Grub, you’d think it would be more rustic.”
“The Spirits and Spurs is rustic. We passed it on the way here.”
“Is it close?”
“A couple of blocks. We could walk it.” Then he thought of her high-heeled sandals. “Or not. I forgot about your shoes.”
“If I can take the hills of Seattle in these I can certainly walk a couple of blocks on flat ground.” She glanced down at her outfit. “But are you sure I’ll be okay wearing this? Not that I have anything more Western and rustic to change into.”
“Chels, you’d look great in a feed sack.” He wondered if he should have said that. But it was true. She had an instinctive sense of style.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t bring a feed sack. I don’t even know what they look like, but I’m sure they’re rustic. Being a cowboy and all, you probably know all about them.”
He laughed. “I do. Listen, whatever you brought will be fine, unless you decide to go riding while we’re at Thunder Mountain. Then maybe we should pick up a couple of things in Sheridan. Or you might be able to borrow a pair of boots from Rosie or Lexi, depending on sizes.”
“Could we do that? Go riding?”
“That’s up to you. Ever been on a horse?”
“I have, but it’s been...jeez, fifteen years. I took some lessons. And I rode English.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.” He pulled into the parking lot beside the Bunk and Grub and shut off the engine.
“I’ll bet there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Probably so.” He met her gaze. He’d deliberately avoided finding out too much for fear it would only create more connection between them. Like the riding thing. Although she hadn’t kept it up, at one time experiencing the world on horseback had appealed to her.
“If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d love to go riding when we get to Thunder Mountain. I’ll be rusty, but I think it would be fun to get on a horse again. If the horse is gentle, I should be fine wearing my gym shoes.”
“Then I’ll take you.” He broke eye contact and reached for the door handle. “There’s a Forest Service road through the trees. You’ll like it.” And damned if it didn’t sound like a romantic thing to do.
“I’m sure I will.” She opened her door and climbed out.
The walkway around to the front door of the B and B was a series of stepping stones set in gravel, so Finn offered to carry both suitcases and Chelsea took their laptop shoulder bags. As he followed her up the steps to a front porch decorated with white wicker furniture and floral cushions, his mind was still on that ride along the Forest Service road.
He hadn’t thought much about the second part of this trip, but now that he knew she had some riding experience, he wanted to show her everything—the little clearing where he, Cade and Damon had performed their blood-brother ceremony, the stream where the three of them used to camp when they were older, and the slope they’d cleared of trees so they could use it as a toboggan run in the winter.
She’d like Cade and Damon. Finn was looking forward to seeing them again. So much had changed since he’d been there in June. Cade and Lexi had gotten back together, although still no word on a wedding. Damon had moved back to Sheridan to be with Philomena, the carpenter who’d worked with him on a fourth cabin for TMA last month.
Finn had been back to the ranch a few times since moving to Seattle, but he’d always traveled alone. This would be the first time he’d ever taken someone there. Maybe it was fitting that Chelsea should be the one. She’d helped him make the transition to Seattle and now she’d be able to see where he’d come from. For her, at least, the picture would be complete.
But he had huge gaps in his knowledge of her. He didn’t feel good about that. When it came to Chelsea, he’d been a coward. He should be able to get to know the woman’s background without forming an inseparable bond. As he walked through the front door of the Bunk and Grub, he decided to use this weekend to learn more about her.
The reception area and an adjacent parlor matched the exterior. Antique furniture and gilt-framed mirrors reminded Finn of the pictures his grandfather had showed him of his great-grandparents’ house. Vases of fresh flowers were everywhere.
A middle-aged woman with blond hair rose from behind an antique desk and came forward when they walked in. “You must be Finn and Chelsea.”
“We are.” Chelsea held out her hand. “And you must be Pam Mulholland. I recognize you from your picture on the website.”
“I’m Pam.” She took Chelsea’s hand in both of hers. “And I’m so excited about Thunder Mountain Academy. I’ve been talking to everyone I know. You should have a good crowd at the Last Chance tomorrow afternoon.”
“My goodness, thank you!”
“The project sounds amazing.” She squeezed Chelsea’s hand and released it. “And, Finn, I’m delighted to meet you.”
“Same here, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I also want to thank you for getting the word out about