I filled Dallas in on a few of the details of my wedding planner life as we drove, and he shared a funny story about a house he had shown that turned out to be inhabited by bats. We followed Warm Springs Road and entered the Sawtooth National Forest on a bumpy, graveled road. Dallas leaned forward when he saw the wooden sign that read “Frenchmen’s Bend Hot Springs 6.5 miles.”
“Almost there,” he said with a smile.
“On this road, it’ll take us at least another fifteen minutes,” I said. “But check out this next sign.”
Dallas read aloud, ‘“Entering burned area. Beware of falling trees, rockslides’—when did this happen?”
“A couple of years ago. The burn pattern is really interesting. You’ll see.” And he did, a few minutes later, as we drove farther into the forest. Black scorch marks reached up the sides of several trees. The fire had devoured parts of the east side of the mountain, but in some areas, the scorch marks took a curious hit-and-miss attitude. We passed entire sections of burned-out forest with fallen logs and then other spots where the fire had merely danced through the trees, licking the dry bark. The charred remnants stood out among the new growth of wildflowers and grasses. I pointed out the creek winding close to the road and veering off only to meet back up with us after a few more switchbacks.
“Pretty amazing that the whole forest didn’t burn up,” Dallas said.
I nodded. “I know. I’m grateful it didn’t.” We rounded another bend and left the remnants of the forest fire behind. “Okay, I need to be in wedding planner mode for a bit.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want you to take everything in as a potential guest. See what you notice on the way to the wedding ceremony.” I tossed him one of my notebooks. “Feel free to jot stuff down.”
He picked up the pen from my console and twirled it in his fingers. I could feel him staring at me, and I glanced in his direction. “What?”
“I notice you. You will be a beautiful bride.”
I nearly snorted but choked instead, because I realized he wasn’t joking. “Thanks.” Okay, time to change the subject. “Natalie and Brock have limited the guest list, but there will still be plenty of the elite in attendance. I want you to help me notice potential problems—things people might complain about because this setting is so different.”
“It is a ways out here,” Dallas said. “I guess it will make it harder for people to crash the wedding.”
“Exactly.”
I pulled the Mountaineer off to the side of the road and grabbed my camera. “This is nature’s chapel, according to Natalie.” I motioned to the meandering creek making its way through a grassy meadow.
“Are you going to haul dance floors and tables out here?” Dallas stepped from the vehicle into the meadow.
“No, the reception will be held at Brock’s house—triple the attendance of the ceremony.” I clicked a few pictures and surveyed the site. The open expanse of flat land against the backdrop of the mountain was a beautiful setting. Blue wildflowers peeked above the grasses, as if a child had interwoven the blossoms in a stunning design.
The ground felt firm, save a few marshy spots near the creek that I figured would dry up in the next two weeks of higher temperatures. Dallas and I walked the perimeter of the meadow, and I noted the natural backdrop of two blue spruce trees growing above the scrubby bushes by the creek. “We’ll set up chairs and place stepping-stones as a walkway to the altar. That way Natalie’s heels won’t sink into the ground.”
“I’m surprised she isn’t going barefoot,” Dallas said with a smirk.
“Natalie is definitely not someone you can fit into a mold. She constantly surprises me. I think that’s why Brock loves her so much.” I followed the course that Natalie would take and stood under the shade of the tree. It would be warm, but the shade would keep the bride and groom from sweating. Hopefully, the wedding party wouldn’t melt. A large gauzy canopy would dull the sun’s rays, but I planned on breezy summer weather to come through with some light air-conditioning.
Dallas crouched and examined a few wildflowers while I continued to snap pictures and take notes. It cheered me to think of Natalie’s special day. She would get the small, private wedding ceremony she wanted, and the reception would placate Brock’s megastar friends. “I think I’ve taken enough pictures. Should we go on up to the springs?”
“I’m ready.” Dallas twirled a yellow wildflower in his fingers. He reached forward, and I moved to take the flower, but he held it out of my grasp and proceeded to weave it into my hair. He stood back and studied me for a moment. “Beautiful. Let me take your picture.”
I handed him my camera. “You have to hold that button down—” I stopped when Dallas snapped a picture. “Hey, I wasn’t ready.”
Dallas laughed. “You’re cute, though. Ready—one, two, three.” I grinned, and he snapped another picture. Then he set the camera on a rock, pushed a couple of buttons, and put his arm around me. The timer blinked, and we waited for another shot.
He flipped the camera around so we could view the picture. “What a great couple.”
I tickled his side. “You look great, as usual. And you’re good with a camera.” Lorea still hadn’t figured out how to focus my Canon DSLR.
He pulled me close and planted a kiss on my cheek. “It’s easy when the subject is breathtaking.”
I gave him a light kiss on the lips. Then I took his hand and tugged it. “Let’s go.”
Ten minutes later, we pulled into
