Chapter 17

17

T hough a few weddings at the winery's event center were held in the early afternoon on weekends, most brides accepted the five o'clock slot offered by Harper. She told brides if they were being married at the winery, they needed to take advantage of the vineyards themselves as a backdrop. Weddings held at night wouldn't show the vineyard to full advantage.

As Emerson now left Lost Creek Winery and followed Ry's catering truck back to town, she was grateful for Harper's policy. With weddings starting at five, they usually ran for half an hour or so, followed by pictures. That meant guests were ready to be seated for dinner at the reception by six or a little after. Once she and Ry plated the food, Harper's assistants took over, serving the meals. It allowed her and Ry to do a bit of cleanup before returning the food bins to the catering van and leaving, while the Weddings with Hart assistants cleared the tables and saw to washing the dishes. It was now six-thirty, which left them the rest of the evening for themselves.

Emerson was trying to get used to being part of a couple, something she had never experienced before. She had no idea what Ry had in mind tonight other than they would be going on a picnic. It didn't matter what they did. She was merely happy to be spending more time with him.

They arrived at Blackwood BBQ, and she helped him bring in the empty food bins to the kitchen, where Carlos was at work, along with a couple of teenagers who served as busboys and dishwashers.

"How did the wedding go?" Carlos asked.

"Everything went like clockwork," Ry told him. "And we have no wedding to cater tomorrow. A blessed day off."

Carlos helped them bring in the rest of the empties, and they bid him goodnight.

As they were leaving the kitchen, Shy Blackwood came through. "Well, hello there, Emerson. I hear you're keeping company with my son these days."

A hot blush spilled across her cheeks. "Yes. I am. And I'm keeping him in line, Sir."

Shy burst out laughing. He glanced to his son. "You have to watch the quiet ones, Ry. I think you've got yourself a real pistol here."

Ry turned to Emerson, his eyes shining with something she couldn't pinpoint. "I definitely have someone special here, Dad." He linked his fingers through hers. "We're off now."

They went to his truck, and Ry helped her inside. She noticed a picnic basket and blanket on the back seat.

When he slipped behind the wheel, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"To Lost Creek Lake. When's the last time you went on a picnic?"

"Never," she replied honestly.

He brought her hand up and kissed her fingers "Things are going to change now for you, Emerson. I'm going to spoil you the way you should've been spoiled all these years."

Leaning in, he gave her a soft kiss. It may have lacked the intense passion of previous kisses, but coupled with his words, it meant everything to her. No one had ever spoiled her. She didn't even know what that might consist of, only that she was putty in this man's hands.

Ry drove the ten minutes outside of town and turned in. Emerson had never been to Lost Creek Lake though it was a popular spot with locals. Especially during the summer.

"Did you know Finley's brother and sister-in-law run Hill Country Sports?" she asked.

"No. Do they sponsor sports teams or rent equipment?"

Emerson said, "They rent things for water sports. Jet skis. Kayaks. Paddleboats."

"We'll have to go kayaking sometime then. I love to do that and haven't been in ages. Have you ever tried it before?"

"No. I don't even know how to swim, Ry," she admitted.

"Then that's something I'll teach you. Everyone should know how to swim."

They drove to an area where few cars were parked and got out, Ry claiming the basket and blanket. She saw a few people out on the lake in small rowboats and some who were swimming.

"Don't worry," he said. "We're going somewhere private."

They hiked up a trail for fifteen minutes, not seeing anyone along the way, and came to an open area with a great view of the water.

"Todd and I used to come here all the time. We'd ride our bikes. Our moms would make sandwiches for us, and we'd fish and roam the lake all day. My cousin Tucker joined us in the summer."

He spread the blanket on the ground and told her to sit. Emerson started to open the basket, but he told her no.

"You just sit and relax. I'll do everything for you tonight."

"You make me feel like a queen, Ry."

"Good. That's the plan."

He lifted out sandwiches and unwrapped them, along with two ribs each, and handed her napkins and a couple of packets with wet wipes in them.

"Because I know we'll get messy."

He uncorked a bottle of wine and poured some into plastic cups for them. "Nothing fancy, but it'll do."

As they ate, she asked, "Did your cousin visit Lost Creek often?"

"Tucker spent every summer here. Being an only child, it was like having a brother every summer. He lost his mom when he was only five years old. His dad was a manager for various country acts and on the road a lot, especially summers. Uncle Travis would drop Tuck off and be gone a solid three months."

"Do you still your cousin or uncle?" watching his face as his eyes got a faraway look in them.

"I haven't seen Tuck in years, not since I left for the army. We stayed in touch as best we could, but he was in a pretty serious car accident a couple of years ago. His wife was killed. I tried everything. Calling. Texting. Even wrote him a few letters. It's as if he dropped off the face of the earth. One of my goals now that I'm back in Texas is to locate him and get in touch with him again."

"That must have been terrible, losing his wife."

"It was even rougher because she was expecting their first child," Ry revealed. "Not only that, but Uncle Travis had passed away about two months before the accident occurred."

"I'll do what I can to help you find him," she said, covering his hand with hers.

"Thank you," he said softly. "It would mean a lot to me to have your help."

They finished their pulled pork sandwiches, and then Emerson tackled the ribs. The meat was tender and juicy, practically falling off the bone.

He opened a wipe and brushed it against her mouth, cleaning it and then her hands. His touch was light and gentle, but it still shot tingles through her.

"I know you're the dessert girl, but I actually tried making something sweet myself. I got Mom to give me my grandmother's banana pudding recipe."

Ry passed her a sealed container, and she opened the lid. "Looks delicious." After she took one bite, Emerson groaned. "Oh, this is so rich and decadent. Why doesn't Blackwood BBQ serve this?"

"Dad is really set in his ways," he said, his own jaw setting. "He doesn't serve or do anything that his dad and granddad didn't do. I think this banana pudding should be on the menu at the restaurant. I wish some of the dishes I'm coming up with could also be served to our customers, but I can tell now that Dad would never consider changing the menu."

"Have you gotten him to at least taste some of your creations? They would sell themselves, Ry."

"No. Because he'd shut me down flat."

"That has to be frustrating," she said sympathetically. "At least you're able to offer some new entrées to Harper's clients."

"Yes. Next Saturday will be the first time a bride has chosen some of my new menu items. I'm really excited to smoke them and add my own flair to the dishes. Even if Dad would disapprove."

"He doesn't know you've expanded the catering menu?" she asked.

"No," he said flatly. "And I'm not going to be sharing that with him."

"Ry, I do think you should let him know what's going on," Emerson cautioned. "If he finds out otherwise, he could be really angry. You should sit him down and have a talk about the direction you see Blackwood BBQ going, especially since it will be yours to run one day."

A stubborn look came into his eyes. "I appreciate your advice, Emerson, but that's never going to happen. Dad's handed over the catering to me, and he won't ask what I'm doing. No changes will ever be made at Blackwood BBQ until he retires and I step up."

Emerson thought this was a recipe for disaster. She believed at some point, Shy Blackwood would discover that Ry was stepping off the menu and bringing his own signature to dishes. Ry didn't seem to be in a mood, however, to discuss it further. She would table it for another time.

After they finished their banana pudding, he set all their dishes and utensils in the basket and took it back to the truck. Then Ry had her stand and moved the blanket closer to the trees surrounding the clearing. He sat, his back leaning against a tree trunk, and motioned for her to join him. She nestled between his legs, her back against his solid chest, his arms wrapped around her. Emerson had never felt safe in her life.

Until this moment.

With Ry's arms secure about her, she felt the burdens of the world melt away. She relaxed completely for the first time ever.

They talked a long time about their pasts. Ry told her about the sports he had played, starting in elementary school.

"Flag football was big, and I played it for one season, but I was really into baseball. That meant I played fall ball each year when school started and again in the spring. In-between times, I played basketball for the Y and sometimes soccer. Then in middle and high school, I continued playing sports. Lost Creek is a small place, and so it allowed me to dip my toe into any sport I wanted to try."

"I don't think I would've played sports. Even if I would've been given the chance. I'm not very coordinated. I might have liked to have done something creative during my school years, though. Maybe act in a play."

"It's not too late to try that," he encouraged her. "There's community theater."

She stroked his forearm. "When would I have time to do that? With The Bake House. Weddings with Hart. And now I'm helping you cater weddings on weekends. It doesn't leave me with much free time."

"I can always find someone else to help me if you really want to devote your time to it, Emerson."

"No," she said softly. "I like being able to spend the time with you."

They sat in companionable silence after that, watching the sun dip below the horizon and the moon rise. She could hear the cicadas singing now and thought she had never been more content in her life.

"Where do you see yourself in five years?" he asked out the blue.

Emerson thought a moment. "I guess I've never really been someone to look too far ahead and make plans. Life was so precarious when I was growing up. Spending time in the foster system, when you could be removed from a home and placed in another without any warning, had me living in the moment. I never really thought beyond the next test coming up at school. The next week at work.

"Then when I came to teach in Lost Creek, I settled into the cycle of the school year. I did my best to help the students given to me each year to not only learn academically, but to become the best people they could be. Then a new group came in, and I started the process all over."

"You're a business owner now," he said. "You should be thinking ahead and formulating a plan for each season. Each year. What you wish to accomplish." He hesitated. "And not just professionally, Emerson. But personally— what goals you might have."

Again, he asked, "Where do you see yourself in five years?"

Her mouth grew dry. "I would hope I'd still own The Bake House," she began. "That it was profitable. That I would still be baking cakes for Weddings with Hart." Swallowing, she added, "But I would like to have children. Maybe even adopt a child from foster care. If I could just rescue one soul and give him or her all the love I have in my heart, it would be worth it."

Ry tiled her face until their gazes met. "You didn't mention anything about marriage."

Keeping a light tone, she said, "Since I've only had a couple of dates, for the first time in almost thirty years, I didn't want to put the cart before the horse. Where do you see yourself in five years, Ry?"

"As a husband and father," he replied. "Anything beyond that is icing on the cake. I came home to Lost Creek with a desire to plant deep roots and become a part of this community. I see how happy my parents have been in their marriage, and I see our friends also happy in theirs. I want kids, Emerson. Plural. You know how being an only child can be lonely. I want to fill a house with kids— and a lot a love."

Ry brushed his lips softly against hers. Emerson knew he wasn't making any promises to her, just letting her know what he wanted out of life. While she had longings to be a mother, she didn't know if she would make for a good wife. She'd witnessed a lousy example of marriage with her own parents and wasn't sure if it was for her.

Emerson abandoned those thoughts— and lived in the moment as she always had —kissing Ry with everything she had.