“She’s right. If you’re going to splurge, do it on the dress.” I made myself a note to remind Brock that Natalie was hopelessly in love with him.
Lorea began measuring, pinning, and writing down what needed to be done to the dress as Natalie smiled into the mirror. I showed her the fabric swatches, and she selected a chiffon lace, just as I had thought she would.
“I’ll have some samples ready for you in a week.” I checked that off my list.
“Are you bringing a date to my wedding, Adri?” Natalie asked with a teasing lilt to her voice.
Lorea answered before I could. “Yes, and he’s taking her to the ice show this week.”
I glared at Lorea, but Natalie’s face lit up. “To see Sasha Cohen? Brock’s taking me—we’re going to that fancy dinner at the lodge before the show, too. So, who is he?”
My brows relaxed as Natalie’s contagious joy swept over me. “His name is Dallas Reynolds. I met him at the Roosevelt Grille. He’s very nice, but I don’t usually bring dates to the weddings I plan.”
“Well, see if you can make an exception this time, won’t you?” Natalie asked. “Someone as talented as you should be planning her own wedding.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Thanks, Natalie, but I think your sentiments should be directed toward Lorea, don’t you?” With a wink in her direction, I hurried back to my computer to order the fabric Natalie had selected. I could hear Lorea grumbling about “too many romantics.” Natalie was right—someday I hoped to plan my own wedding. I just needed to find the right groom first.
Chapter 4
Guest Book Quilt
Prepare or purchase 4-inch quilt squares and place on the wedding reception entry table. Invite each guest to share their love by signing a quilt square with a permanent fabric marker. Construct a quilt from the signed quilt squares and present it to the married couple as a special “guest book” that will be both useful and memorable.
Courtesy of www.mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com
“Ready to go home and veg?” I asked Lorea. The hands of the mantle clock were nearing the five. “We’ve worked too hard today.”
Lorea pulled her bottom lip through her teeth. “With Sylvia’s new order for another bridesmaid’s dress, I won’t have time to finish this hem for Natalie, and I’d really like to get it done by next week.”
“I can help. Why don’t I take it home and start undoing it for you?”
“Would you?”
“Sure. My hot date isn’t until tomorrow, remember?”
“That’s true.” Lorea smirked. Then she reminded me how to handle the gown and the best method to take out the blind hem. “And no chocolate. Don’t let this gown get near your stash.”
“Yes, sir.” I saluted.
“See you in the morning, boss.”
The lights hummed for a moment after I turned them off, and I hurried out to the parking lot behind Lorea. It took me less than ten minutes to drive home and kick off my black leather sandals.
I didn’t run in the evenings very often, but I definitely needed an endorphin high after the barely contained dress disaster. I ate a light dinner of broiled salmon, broccoli, and rice and gave myself a few minutes to decompress. Thirty minutes later, I laced up my neon green running shoes and forced myself out the door.
For the past year, I’d been the one-date wonder, never getting close enough to open up my heart and spill my painful secrets. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for agreeing to go on a second date with Dallas, while at the same time wishing it wasn’t so hard. My natural fun-loving nature had been obscured by the tragedy in California.
All that was behind me now. My wedding planning skills meshed with my thriving craft business. Fate had frowned on me last year, but she must have been smiling when she nudged me toward Sun Valley.
The brisk mountain air raised goose bumps on my skin, and I shivered. It was late May, but the nights still cooled considerably, and the Sawtooth Mountains clung to the last remnants of winter snow. Breathing deeply, I paused, relishing the feel of the cooled oxygen in my lungs. Tension threaded my shoulders and I rolled them back, wincing when my right shoulder popped. The missing gown and the potential nightmare with the hole in Sylvia’s dress had definitely strained my nervous system. I could feel every stitch in my tired bones.
After a few more stretches focusing on my high arches, I turned up the volume on my iPod and broke into a run. I was doing so much better now—not running away from everything, like before, but running toward a future filled with promise.
The bike paths of the Sun Valley area were never lonely, and the paved trails topped my list of reasons to live there. With the ski slopes in view and the lush scent of evergreen forests filling my nose, it didn’t take long for my sluggish body to feel energized.
As I neared the first mile of my run, I couldn’t help but wonder if I might see him again today. I chided myself. Several times in the past few weeks, I had sprinted past “the hottie,” as Lorea had named him. She had been teasing me mercilessly since I told her about my encounter with the sexy, sculpted runner. Denial was my best defense when Lorea asked me why I had been so diligent in my running lately, but I found myself looking for him more than I cared to admit.
And there he was, rounding the next bend with his hat on backwards, chrome sunglasses reflecting the fading light. Maybe he was bald. I had never dared turn around and look for fear he might catch me looking at him, but I secretly hoped he used the hat to keep the sweat out of his eyes instead of to prevent
