deal she wanted. âOnce, I toured an outdoor amphitheater with a shoddy sound system that would blast bluegrass music without warning. I convinced the couple not to use it because who wants the Soggy Bottom Boys in the middle of their vows?â
âYouâre joking.â
She relaxed a fraction. âI wish I was. But the best was the barn wedding with the wayward cows. They got out of their barnâthe non-wedding barn across the propertyâand migrated toward the ceremony. Iâve never moved so fast in heels in my life. Luckily, the owner of the place was a cow whisperer or something. He got the herd moving back in the other direction.â
She was sharing too much and she knew better, but her job was the one thing she loved to talk about. Every event was a challenge and even when she planned everything down to the tiniest detail, something always came up at the last minute to keep things thrilling.
âYou didnât want to try your hand at cow herding?â A teasing note played through Roarkâs question.
She was about to laugh but caught herself and cleared her throat. Too chummy, too early in the deal. âUm, no. So thatâs a no on the bolted-down furniture?â
âDefinitely a no.â
A handful of guests strolled by and Roark greeted them with a âgood afternoonâ while Madison made notes in her portfolio. âWhat about the rest of the common area?â
Roark showed her every inch of the great room, the groupings of furniture, the comfy yet elegant leather chairs and sofas, the enviable chessboard setup, and the reading nook, which was occupied by exactly one person.
âWe also have modernized yurts if your clients have any adventurous wedding guests.â
She stopped writing mid-word. âA what?â
He pulled out his phone. âYurts. Souped-up tents. Circular. Ours come with amenities.â Roark leaned in to show her the picture on his phone. The yurt was indeed a tall, round thing that was probably twenty feet in diameter.
But the tent with the funny name wasnât the issue. Roark still smelled like dessert and he stood so close. Close enough that his body heat warmed her side.
âNo thank you on the yurts,â Madison said, and refused to be disappointed as Roark stepped away.
âI didnât think so, but I love to offer.â
They continued walking through the great room. The innâs restaurant, Bradleyâs, was in the back left corner. The back of the inn opened up with floor-to-ceiling windows and three sets of double French doors.
Before her was a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains like nothing sheâd ever seen.
Everyone online said the innâs location was its crown jewel. Sitting on a westward-facing slope, the panorama and multicolored sunsets one could witness from Honeywilde were supposed to be its top draw. Her client bride had waxed poetic for a full five minutes.
Roark touched one of the French doorsâ S-shaped handles. âThese of course lead to our veranda. In warm weather we set tables up out there and serve from the restaurant. Itâs a prime spot to see the mountains and where most people want to have their wedding ceremony.â
Madison stepped forward. âSo, youâve shown me the view first anyway, only in a roundabout way.â
Again he stood close, and when she looked over, she could make out the details of his pale gaze, the touch of blue in otherwise storm-gray eyes.
He glanced down, and quickly back up. The effect of his little eyelash flick might not have been intentional, but that didnât make it any less potent. Heat shot through her body like an electrical surge.
âThis is more like second or third on the tour by now, right?â
Her face felt like granite as she fought not to fall into his gaze. âSecond. Still, you got your way.â
âI wouldnât say that.â He defended himself with a smile. âThe veranda simply is where