Dallas seemed more talkative as we ordered our treats and settled into a cherry-red booth. “Thanks for introducing me to the finer side of Ketchum.” Dallas motioned to the ice cream parlor. “I’ve been waiting all day to find out what a frozen mud pies tastes like.”
“You’ll love it.” I didn’t tell him that it was a new twist on a brownie sundae. That could wait until the double-chocolate brownie layered with peanut butter and frozen between slabs of vanilla ice cream was served. I took a deep breath. “I need to tell you what happened at my shop before you hear it through the grapevine.”
Dallas tilted his head. “Something bad?”
“Yes. Someone broke in and stole my safe and three wedding gowns.”
“But you didn’t mention it last night.” He reached for my hand. “Are you okay?”
“Pretty stressed. I was trying to pretend I could deal with it yesterday, and I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”
“It’s not a burden. What will happen with your shop?”
“I have insurance to cover some of the loss, but it’s really put me on edge.” I described to him the details of the vandalized dresses, and he listened intently. He didn’t grill me, and I was grateful, even though I saw the curiosity in his eyes.
“I can tell you’d rather think about something else, so let’s change the subject,” Dallas said after I’d finished my depressing report. “The important thing is that you’re safe.”
“Thank you.” I squeezed his hand, touched by his kindness and intuition.
Our server brought out the frozen mud pie in a bright red dish with two long silver spoons. Dallas dug into the hot fudge and ate a huge bite. “That’s delicious.”
And it was. I ate my fill of the chocolate concoction drenched in melting ice cream as Dallas told me about the homes he was showing in the area and how real estate seemed to be picking up for the summer, allowing him to cut back on his hours as a waiter.
After we finished dessert, we went out to the parking lot. The sun inched toward the horizon, casting rays of pinkish light across the Sawtooths.
“So, tell me about your family,” Dallas said.
“They’re great. My parents are Carl and Laurel Pyper. Dad is a semiretired farmer, and my mom is basically amazing in every way.”
“Sounds like you’re pretty close to them.” Dallas gave me his full attention, and I found myself pausing to admire his handsome face. His black eyebrows curved down slightly near his temples, accentuating the straight black lashes framing his eyes.
“We are. Well, when I’m not working myself to death. I have an older brother, Wesley, who has always been a mentor to me. Even though Wesley returned home after college to manage the farm and allow Dad to retire, the two enjoy working together. Wes can’t keep Dad off the tractor.” An image of my dad in overalls came to mind, and I smiled. “Wes and his wife, Jenna, have the cutest little girl, Bryn. She’s three, and I just adore her.”
“I bet you’re a fun aunt.”
“It’s not hard to impress a three year old.” I shrugged. “What about your family?”
“I don’t have any nieces or nephews yet. But I’m curious. Does your family wish you had started your business in Rupert?”
I leaned forward, impressed that he had remembered where I grew up from the brief introduction I’d given him on our first date. “My family has really been rooting for me to succeed here with my wedding planning business, especially since . . .” I stopped before I mentioned Briette’s murder. Dallas seemed like the type who would understand, but it was still hard for me to talk about that, and after the week I’d had, I didn’t trust my emotions. Dallas looked expectant, and I coughed before continuing. “Especially since they know how important my dreams are to me.”
“That’s wonderful. So did your family help you get started up here?”
“They did—each in their own way. My mom tends to go a little overboard with things, and she can be a bit overbearing, but it all works out. Dad and Wes helped me move, and Jenna helped me with a few contacts she has through her business. She pitches in with the crafting blog I run with my mom.”
“Crafts?” Dallas’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and I couldn’t suppress my giggle.
“Good thing my mom’s not here now. She’d find the nearest computer and show you our site and what’s trending on Pinterest.”
Dallas appeared mystified. “So, like sewing and those little statues you paint?”
“Not really. Think anything creative and beautiful for the home, for the kids, for the stomach. We love to make cards, share sewing tips, gardening ideas, cleaning tips, recipes—even a little crochet. My website is called mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com.”
Dallas laughed. “Serious?”
“Yep, we do everything from cooking to crafting, so it fits. I’ve actually posted some specialty items for my weddings that my mom and I created.”
Dallas shook his head. “It’s amazing what you can find online, huh?”
“Totally. My family gets pretty excited about crafts. My mom, especially. She’s always coming up with new ideas for things that I might be able to use for a wedding or bridal shower. Which reminds me, I’d better hurry or I’ll never get everything on my list done.”
“I’m glad we could see each other tonight.” Dallas interlaced my fingers with his as we walked outside. “I’d like to take you back to the Roosevelt Grille while I can still get the employee discount.”
“I would love to go with you,” I said. And I meant it. The food was fabulous there, and the sugar I’d just consumed made me feel a bit giddy on the heels of the stressful day I had endured. That was the only explanation I could think of for agreeing to another date, besides the obvious one that I was
