Page 85 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

She punches my arm. “Hush. It’s obviously meant to be.”

I can’t argue with that.

Randy comes through the kitchen, giving us a nod before heading out the back door.

Kelsey watches him from the kitchen window. “I mean, his family owning aChristmas tree farm, and the festival to save it is enough, but you know what’s really got me going here?”

I sip from my cup, not wanting to hear the answer. This introduction is far more painful than the last.

She goes on. “I didn’t even have to fake that meet-cute.”

I set down my coffee. “Really? That looked like a classic move.”

“You think I would have come down here looking like this if I knew my future husband was about to crash into me while lugging firewood he cut with his own hands?” Her voice drops to a whisper as Randy passes through the kitchen again.

“So, it was a genuine meet-cute, then.” The coffee sits in my belly as heavy as one of Randy’s perfectly cut logs.

She can’t take her eyes off the man as he pops through the swinging doors.

“I can feel it, Zachery,” she says. “Everything I planned for has led me right here from the moment I sat down across from that fortune teller.”

And the worst thing about it is I think she might be right.

Chapter 29

KELSEYHANDLES THEBALLS

I definitely never wanted to meet my future husband in a ten-year-old gray sweater and saggy PJs.

But here we are.

When Randy heads outside again, I race up to my room, taking the stairs two at a time.

I have to shower, dress, and fix whatever first impression he just got!

The water doesn’t want to heat, but I’m in a hurry, so I rapidly wash my hair in the bracing cold spray. I can’t handle a shave in that, so I do it afterward, managing to nick my shin in a way I haven’t done since I was fifteen.

Are these signs? Signs of what? Warning? Humility? To literally take a cold shower and chill the hell out?

I don’t even know anymore, and I don’t have time to pull a tarot card. I yank a brush through my wet hair hard enough to make myself yelp.Calm down, Kelsey!

I choose a soft green dress with a white belt and white tennis shoes. I go for classic with my hair, blow-drying it straight and pulling it back with a white headband.

Barely there makeup. Minimal jewelry.

Randy looks like a no-fuss, no-muss type.

I turn in front of a full-length oval mirror on a stand. For a moment, I wonder which ancestors of Randy’s family might have looked at their reflection in this very glass.

I like it. All of it. The history. The land. I’m not even bothered that the tree farm needs saving. I have every confidence that the summer event will be wildly successful, and the family won’t have to worry about financial solvency.

If you’re going to buy into the romantic storyline, you have to go all in.

I hurry for the stairs, well aware that I took the better part of an hour to get ready and Randy might be gone.

But halfway down, the movie starts rolling like any climactic scene when the heroine descends from an upper floor to capture the hero’s heart.

INT. A BRICK WYOMING HOMESTEAD—DAY

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