A Small-Town Bride Read online

  “So, um, you want some help?”

  “In standing up to Pam or writing my plan? Or did you have something else in mind?”

  “Both. And then we can take Muffin for a walk.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  With Amy’s enthusiastic help, Dusty found three business plan books, which he checked out of the library. Then they bought a couple of bacon and egg sandwiches from Gracie’s Diner and headed up to the fishing cabin, where they spent the early afternoon on the screen porch reading the books and talking through Dusty’s ideas for his fishing guide business.

  She helped him cut through the details in his head to frame up each idea in a way that made rational sense. Once he got all his thoughts laid out on a piece of paper, each one numbered in order of importance, the project didn’t seem so overwhelming.

  “See?” she said after they’d been at it for a while. “The only way to get through something this complex is to make a list of all the smaller steps. I used to do that all the time when I planned events for my sorority. I’m just not smart enough to deal with planning anything without breaking it down into a to-do list, you know?”

  “I hate it when you say stuff like that,” he said, looking up from his notebook.

  “What stuff? You don’t like to-do lists?”

  “Stuff like ‘I’m not smart enough.’”

  “But I’m—”

  “Stop. You do that all the time, and it’s not true, Amy. You’re an extremely intelligent person. I don’t understand why you think you’re not.”

  “Try living with the Lyndons for a while. They’re all brilliant.”

  “I’ve been friends with David for a long time, and he’s smart, but I don’t think he’s any smarter than you are. Maybe he and Willow have advanced college degrees, but neither of them could get Sven to behave himself. You checked out a book from the library, read it thoroughly, and inside of a week, you’ve changed that dog’s life. Sven might get to spend more time inside with Willow now that she has some confidence that he won’t jump all over the guests.”

  A smile as bright as sunshine opened up on Amy’s face. “Yeah, I know. I’m so happy for Sven. It’s like the book says, a well-trained dog is a free dog.” Her voice carried an earnest ring to it that almost made him laugh. She had no clue about herself. Not a one.

  Running into her at the library had been a stroke of luck. He glanced down at his notebook where an outline was taking shape. He’d never have made it this far without Amy’s help. He probably would have given up an hour ago and headed out to the stream for some fishing. Amy had helped him focus, had helped him drill down, and had helped him lay out the problems one by one.

  Anyone could slip and fall into something serious with a woman like her. She was good company, like a fishing buddy or something. He wanted to spend time with her even though he’d promised Willow to stay away. But if he stayed here admiring her, he’d end up taking her back to bed, and that would definitely break his promise. But maybe there was another way. Maybe they could be friends without benefits, the way he was friends with Willow.

  “I think we’ve made a lot of progress this afternoon,” he said nonchalantly. “But it’s a nice day, and Muffin’s getting antsy. Let’s take the dog fishing.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But I don’t know how to fish.”

  “How is that possible? Your family is crazy about fishing. I see your dad and uncle out on the stream all the time. And David lives to fish.”

  “It’s definitely possible,” Amy said. “In my family, it’s one of those unstated rules that the boys go fishing and the girls go shopping.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “Yup. And please don’t tell me it’s unfair. When I was little, I remember wanting to go fishing with Daddy, but Mom always said I’d have more fun shopping. She was right about that. I like shopping. A lot.”

  “I bet you do.”

  “The thing is, up until the last two weeks, I mostly shopped with other people’s money, and I’ve come to understand that doing that is soul-sucking.”

  “Soul-sucking?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I’ve come to the conclusion that the best thing that ever happened to me was when Daddy locked me out of the house. I’ve accomplished so much in two weeks. I have Muffin, I’ve made friends with Sven, and I saved the day yesterday for a flat-chested bride.”

  “What?”

  She giggled. “Oops. I didn’t mean to divulge that.”

  “How exactly did you save the day for the flat-chested bride?”

  “With the duct tape I took from the barn. It’s a godsend for those of us who have no cleavage.” Her cheeks turned pink the minute that word left her mouth.

  “I’m suddenly intrigued. How exactly do you—”

  “Never mind. I believe we were talking about my shopping habits, and we’re not changing the subject. And I’ve learned the value of a dollar. So shopping doesn’t seem like so much fun anymore.”

  “I can assure you that fishing will not damage your soul.”

  She tilted her head and regarded him out of a pair of eyes that twinkled with mischief. “Oh, I just had an awesome idea,” she said.

  “About fishing?”

  “Well, sort of. It’s about fishing and your business. What if you were to target women who wanted to learn to fish as customers? You could create an environment where they wouldn’t feel intimidated. Women would flock to you because you’re handsome and experienced and, you know, the whole package.”

  The temperature on the porch went from early spring to late summer.

  “I’ve never taught a woman how to fish,” he said as the heat crawled up his neck.

  “No?”

  He shook his head.

  “You can practice on me.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’d love to practice on you.” But what did he want to practice? That was the important question. Right then he wanted to pull her out of that chair and carry her back to the bedroom, where they could continue what they’d started Thursday night.

  So much for the idea of them being friends without benefits. Maybe he should stop thinking with his dick.

  “I’ll go get some rods out of the truck,” he said, and escaped the porch.

  He regrouped out at the truck, where he sorted through his fishing gear and assembled a couple of fly rods. He needed a clear set of dos and don’ts when it came to Amy Lyndon.

  Teaching her to fish would be innocent enough. He could justify that on the basis that he might need to teach the wives and girlfriends of his future clients. But flirting with her, kissing her, touching her, or taking her to bed were all forbidden. It went without saying that he needed to avoid falling in love with her.

  But the boat may have sailed on that one.

  * * *

  Amy hadn’t expected fly-fishing lessons to be so…intimate. They stood together in a small clearing in the forest where meadow grass grew thick, punctuated here and there with stands of white and yellow wildflowers that Dusty called fleabane. Not far away, Liberty Run bubbled and splashed on its way down toward Shenandoah Falls. The stream was no more than ten feet across, but the water moved swiftly, churning over rocks and swirling in places where, according to Dusty, the trout liked to hide.

  Dusty didn’t start Amy’s lesson off by casting into the stream. Instead, he tied a piece of bright orange yarn on the end of her fishing line and made her practice her cast on dry land. He stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her and his front side heating her backside even though they weren’t touching. His scent spilled over Amy like warm honey. His voice feathered in her ear as he murmured instructions in that deep voice of his.

  If she hadn’t been so determined to learn how to fish, she might have turned around and kissed him. But right now Dusty had a lot riding on this fishing lesson. He needed to practice his teaching skills, and she needed to learn. So kissing was out.

  “Here’s how you hold th
e rod,” Dusty said, showing her his firm but gentle grasp on the cork at the end of the fly rod. “Basically it’s like you’re shaking hands with it, see? You try.”

  She took the rod from him, surprised by the way it balanced in her hand.

  “Don’t strangle it,” he said, and his left hand came around her rib cage to make adjustments to her grip. It would be so easy to lean back and settle into his sturdy frame, but that would defeat the purpose of this lesson. So she mentally told her heart to stop beating erratically, but her heart didn’t listen.

  “All right,” he said, stepping back, taking his scent and warmth away. “Now, I want you to pull out some line—maybe seven or eight feet.” He leaned over and showed her how to grab the neon green line and pull it from the reel.

  “Won’t it get tangled?” she asked. “I thought I had to move the rod to get the line to play out.”

  “Nope. In fly casting, the line is heavy, so you have to pull it from the reel and feed it down the rod. It’s not like spin casting. You can throw that light fishing line directly from the reel on a spin rod. This requires a lot more skill and patience.”

  This made no sense to her, but she refrained from asking any questions, dumb or otherwise, because she figured she’d learn by doing.

  “All right, now I want you to hold the line in your left hand.” He showed her how, which required him to step closer again, sending her temperature soaring.

  “When you move the rod back and forth, it’s going to bend, and that’s what creates the energy that feeds the line out. That’s called ‘loading the rod.’ To cast, move your arm back and then forward, keeping your wrist straight and pivoting from your elbow, which is going to sit on an imaginary shelf on your hip.”

  He stopped and grabbed her right arm and positioned it next to her body. His touch awakened all her girl parts, and the rush of blood in her ears drowned out the sound of the stream.

  “I’m showing you a side cast method to start with. I think it’s easier to control the line, and learning it this way will come in handy when you fish along the run. There are a lot of good fishing spots where you can’t make an overhead cast because the trees get in the way.”

  Once he’d positioned her body, he said, “Okay, you’ve got the stance right. Now I want you to move your hand back and then forward without breaking your wrist. The secret of the cast is that your arm is going to accelerate to a stopping point in back and then come forward in the same way. People sometimes call this a snap action, but I think it works better if you imagine that you’re holding a paintbrush filled with paint and you’re trying to fling the paint off the end of the brush.”

  Keeping all that in her head made Amy dizzy, but she tried to do as he’d instructed, and to her utter astonishment, the line she’d taken out of the reel traveled down the rod as she moved her arm back and forth, imagining a paintbrush.

  “Gorgeous,” Dusty said.

  “What? Who? Me?”

  “Yeah, you’re cute, but that was a beautiful cast. Did you see the loop the line made?”

  No, she hadn’t. She’d been concentrating on flinging paint.

  They continued like this for the next half hour, with Dusty always patient and kind and sweet. He had a knack for teaching even if he talked too much, and she got the hang of casting pretty quickly.

  He made learning fun. He never criticized her mistakes. He gave her confidence, so she ended up enjoying herself doing something everyone had always told her she would hate.

  “You’re good at this,” she finally said.

  “Of course I am. I learned to fish when I was really young. I’ve been doing it a long time.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You’re good at teaching people.”

  “I am?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

  Her chest swelled up with an emotion she couldn’t even name as it occurred to her that Dusty McNeil had taught her all kinds of things that had nothing to do with fly-fishing. Dusty might be the only person in her life who’d ever allowed her to stand on her own two feet. And while they’d gotten off to a rocky start with the daffodils and the snipe hunt, in truth, Dusty didn’t criticize her mistakes the way Aunt Pam did. Aunt Pam made every mistake about Amy’s shortcomings, but Dusty used every mistake as a teachable moment.

  The minute that idea popped into her head, it became impossible to contain herself. She angled the rod down onto its handle and stepped right up to him, taking his face in her hands.

  “Thank you,” she said, “for everything. For believing in me. For teaching me stuff…” She had a lot of other things she wanted to say, but her voice got wobbly, so instead of talking, she pulled him down for an innocent enough thank-you kiss.

  But the moment their lips brushed, the little kiss went awry. His mouth, warm and gentle, unleashed a craving in her that would only be satisfied by taking the kiss carnal. She wanted to drink him up like a bottle of Bella Vista’s special vintage wine.

  Suddenly the rod between them was more barrier than either of them could stand. They had just jettisoned it and were two seconds away from dropping to the meadow grass when Muffin started barking her head off.

  Clearly the dog believed that they were in danger.

  “What?” Amy turned just as Muffin hunkered down and growled at someone making his way down the path from the cabin. One glance at the intruder and Amy’s newfound confidence disappeared.

  Daddy had returned from his vacation. And by the grumpy scowl riding his forehead, he was not a happy man.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Muffin, leave it,” Amy commanded, and her brave little dog sat down but continued to watch Daddy as if she thought he might be a master villain. Two weeks ago Amy would have given anything for Daddy’s return. But now she shared Muffin’s opinion, especially since the scowl on his face spelled trouble.

  “Whose dog is that?” Daddy asked.

  “It’s mine.”

  “Since when? You’re afraid of dogs, just like your mother.”

  How many times had her family compared her to Mom? A million? More? She’d always taken it as a compliment before, but these last few days had changed her perspective. Maybe her family constantly compared her to Mom in order to keep her in line and limit her options. Mom had married a rich man, and the jury was out as to whether she’d done it for love or money. What was a known fact is that she chose to stay with Daddy despite his infidelities. Had she done that out of love, or had she been too scared to live life on her own, without Daddy’s money?

  Amy had loved her mother dearly. But it suddenly occurred to her that Mom had lived a half-life. She had never stood on her own two feet. She’d been afraid of her shadow. She’d spent her days shopping, trying to fill up the hours.

  Amy wanted no part of a life like that, so she planted her feet wide apart, put her hands on her hips, and firmed her chin. “Everyone has always told me that I’m afraid of dogs, but I can’t remember how that happened. And then I met Muffin and discovered that I like dogs. Maybe Mom’s fear of them was projected onto me. You think?”

  Daddy ignored the rhetorical question. In fact, halfway through her speech, he’d turned to stare at Dusty. And Dusty stared right back at him while the testosterone level climbed into the stratosphere.

  “What are you doing here?” Daddy fired the words in Dusty’s direction as if he were skeet shooting and Dusty was the target.

  “I—”

  “He was teaching me how to fish with a fly rod, Daddy. Don’t be so dramatic,” Amy said.

  “It didn’t look like he was teaching you to fish, Amy. Besides, the idea of you going fishing is hilarious.”

  “Hilarious how?” Dusty asked, stepping forward a few paces and folding his arms across his chest. “She’s a quick study. I bet I could have her double hauling before the afternoon is out.”

  Amy had no idea what double hauling was, but a powerful sense of accomplishment swelled inside her.

  “I doubt it,” Daddy said. “She’s not very at
hletic. Now, do us both a favor and leave.”

  “Daddy, Dusty is my—”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you were doing with him, Amy. It’s time for you to grow up, quit screwing around, and get with the program, okay? And believe me, Jeff is going to hear from me. He’s not doing you any favors allowing you to camp out here.”

  “What program exactly did you have in mind?” she asked.

  “The program that has you marrying Grady Carson.” He sent a killing glance in Dusty’s direction before continuing. “I’m not too happy with Willow either. How could she allow you to work at the inn—as a gardener no less? And how could she allow you to spend time with him?” Daddy nodded in Dusty’s direction. “It goes without saying that Willow will hear about this. I’m sure she won’t like the idea of this man hitting on one of her employees.”

  She stood there hoping Dusty would stand up for himself, maybe punch Daddy in the nose or something. Or better yet, rescue her from her life as a princess by swearing his undying love for her.

  Unfortunately, Dusty didn’t do any of those things.

  It was a known fact that no one ever stood up to Daddy. He owned more land in Jefferson County than anyone else, and the world sucked up to him. As for undying love, she and Dusty might have enjoyed some incredible sex, but sex wasn’t a sign of undying love.

  So she tried not to be disappointed when Dusty picked up his fishing equipment, nodded his head in deference to the Big Man, and said, “I was just leaving, sir.”

  The sight of his retreating back demoralized Amy. Her chest tightened with indignation. She turned on her father. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

  “Because he’s not the kind of man you want in your life, honey. Now, I brought the SUV, and I’ll help you move your things back into the house. I’m sorry I kicked you out. I thought for sure you’d run right to Grady. But don’t you worry. I’ll help you fix the problems I created.”