Chapter 14
SATURDAY
CHELSEY COULD NOT believe the mess happening now. Water sprayed from a broken pipe under the road on the west side of the GP and mud and water were building up enough to go over the curb. The port-a-potties were now in serious danger of becoming swamped.
On the north side the road was still under construction. At least it was two-lanes now instead of one-way like it had been for May and part of June. It still caused a hindrance with traffic coming and going around the GP. The water issue was way more of a concern than trying to dodge orange cones.
Chelsey’s crew silently stood next to her by the gazebo as the mud inched its way toward them and there was nothing they could do about it.
A text came through from Dan. Heard about the water situation. I’m on my way.
What could Dan do except stare at the city workers like they were presently doing and hope they’d stop the water flow in time?
Do we need to change the venue? Dan texted.
Chelsey rubbed her temples. They could move to the rodeo grounds or to the downtown park.
She glanced at the time on her phone. They had a couple more hours before people started to show up.
The stage and cocktail tables were set up and ready to go.
The police chief was practicing her lines.
She had an auctioneer’s voice plus expertise in the area and had to force herself to slow down her speech.
Chairs had been moved outside and strings of lights were hanging over the area.
Moving the event shouldn’t be a big deal. They could get the word out on social media and have volunteers redirect the crowds. But did they need to? The water wasn’t coming near the main area…yet.
Heather and her team had made this place magical, and they could do it again. After what happened with the strawberries and cream disaster, Chelsey knew the town would pull through and help.
She silenced her phone as more and more texts started coming through. She didn’t have the answers or the patience to smooth people’s anxiety right now.
“Chelsey? Is that you?”
Chelsey turned around and was immediately caught up in Heather’s hug. “Oh my.” Heather breathed out. “We heard about a water problem but had no idea how extensive it was.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Rodney was right behind Heather. Tonight, he dressed in dark pants, a red button-down shirt and a white bowtie with little strawberries.
A look of panic crossed his face when he saw the muddy water nearing the spot where he planned on proposing to Heather. They might have to move that event as well.
“I think they’ll have it under control soon–ish,” Chelsey said hopefully. “At least the water isn’t shooting five feet in the air now.”
Heather glanced at her strawberry-shaped watch with its red band. “We have a couple more hours, we should be fine.” She put a hand on Chelsey’s arm. “A watched pile of mud doesn’t slow down by being watched.”
Chelsey arched an eyebrow at her. “What?”
“You know, a watched pot?” She waved a hand at her. “Never mind. Rodney and I will check on what—”
Heather’s voice was drowned out by the sound of a jackhammer. They all jumped at the noise then covered their ears. Chelsey stared out at the street in disbelief. No one would be able to hear anything with that racket. Maybe it was time to move the venue.
Chelsey brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. She needed to find out how long the noise would last. She kicked off her wedges and grabbed them by the strap. No sense in ruining her brand-new shoes with muddied grass and well, mud.
Before she made it past the building, Rich was already striding with his long legs to the men.
The jackhammer quieted for a moment while he talked with the group.
Chelsey crossed her fingers and tapped her bare foot while she waited.
The man who seemed to be in charge shook his head at everything Rich said.
Rich threw his hands in the air then shoved them in his overalls before making his way to Chelsey.
He stood by her and studied the activity on the street.
“Well?” Chelsey asked a little impatiently.
“They said I couldn’t work with the jackhammer.”
Chelsey dropped her shoes and put her hands on her hips. “Seriously?”
Rich scratched behind his ear. “Right. They hope to be done with the noisy stuff in an hour.”
The jackhammer started up again.
“I’m going to go supervise,” Rich yelled before he sauntered away.
“Let a man direct crap for a day and he thinks he can use heavy equipment,” Chelsey muttered to herself.
“That’s cutting it close, isn’t it?” Heather yelled over the noise.
It was cutting it close, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Best to focus on what they could control.
“Heather, would you wait for Dan and the two of you brainstorm a Plan B?”
Heather pointed at herself in surprise. “Me?”
“You’re one of the most organized people I know. Besides, you and Dan work will together.” Chelsey gestured to Rodney. “Your boyfriend will help. Also, I’m going to send the playlist to you. Would you mind getting it live?”
“We’ll get it rolling.” Rodney grinned and took Heather’s hand. She kissed his cheek and moved toward the building where they would hopefully find a quiet place to talk to Dan.
“I don’t think I can dig a ditch big enough for all of that water. It’s way above my pay grade.”
Chelsey jumped a little at Taylor’s voice. How did he always show up in the right place at the right time for her?
“I wish it were that easy,” Chelsey said. When he leaned closer to hear her, her heart fluttered a little as the woodsy goodness Chelsey now associated with him tickled her nose. She stepped away a little; she couldn’t think clearly with him so near.
“We open in ninety-five minutes. I need to make sure we’re ready.” Chelsey choked back a moment of panic. Just over an hour before their “doors” opened. She wavered a little on her shaky legs. She reached into her pockets to see if she had a hidden granola bar in one. No luck.
Taylor took her hand and tugged—gentle, but not optional.
Chelsey went with him.
Not because she had to.
Because something in the way he led her, so sure and steady, cut through the noise in her head and gave her something solid to follow.
The grass cooled her bare feet as she crossed it, damp from the creeping floodwater, each step grounding her just enough to keep moving. They crossed over the warm cement and Taylor opened the door to usher her inside, closing it behind them with a firm click.
The chaos outside dulled from a roar to a distant, persistent hum.
Chelsey exhaled, but it came out thinner than she intended.
Taylor hadn’t let go of her hand.
She dropped her shoes and lifted her free hand to her temple, pressing lightly as if she could physically hold herself together. “I think I need some chocolate.”
He stepped a fraction closer. His thumb brushed once across the back of her hand and she became slowly grounded, like a quiet reminder that she wasn’t carrying this alone.
“You don’t need chocolate,” he said, low and certain. “You’ve already got the courage. You’re just running low on patience.”
Chelsey huffed a breath that almost counted as a laugh.
“Those are not the same thing.”
“Tonight?” Taylor’s mouth tipped slightly. “They might be.”
She let her head tilt back for a second, eyes closing to gather the scattered pieces of herself and stack them back into something functional. She straightened and slowly eased her hand from his.
“Okay,” she said, voice regaining its structure. “We adapt.”
Taylor watched her, something like quiet admiration flickering there.
“Downtown Park is still our best backup,” she continued, pacing now, energy returning in sharper lines. “If the street floods us out completely, we reroute. If it holds, we reinforce—plywood, barriers, controlled access points.”
Taylor nodded, already tracking with her. “I can pull volunteers and start staging supplies either way.”
“Good.” Chelsey paused, then added, a little softer, “And thank you…for the extraction.”
Taylor’s grin flashed quick and real. “Anytime.”
“Can you hear that?” Taylor tipped his head to the side. They listened for a beat.
“No jackhammer.” Chelsey crossed to the door and pulled it open just enough to look.
The water had slowed—nearly stopped. City workers moved in with startling efficiency, rolling out wide sheets of plywood over the worst of the mud, sectioning off unstable ground with bright yellow caution tape.
Chelsey blinked once trying to make sense of the scene.
“Well,” she said, a hint of dry disbelief threading through her tone, “it seems the universe decided to cooperate after all.”
Taylor stepped up beside her, close enough that she could feel the steady presence of him again.
“Guess we’re staying put?”
Chelsey watched another sheet of plywood drop into place, solidifying the space.
“We’re staying,” she said, resolve locking back into place. “We adjust the layout, tighten the flow, and keep the auction moving.”
She glanced at him, a spark back in her eyes now. “Let’s go fix our event.”
Taylor didn’t hesitate.
And this time, when his hand brushed hers as they stepped back out into the noise, Chelsey let it stay there for just a second longer than necessary.
“You got this.” Taylor squeezed her hand. “We got this.” His knuckles brushed her cheek. “I’m here for you Chels, I’m not leaving you alone in this.”
She caught Taylor’s gaze. There would be no running from him.
The depth of vulnerability in his eyes anchored her to him.
She found herself leaning closer to him before reminding herself that she was in a low emotional state, and he was leaving soon.
He would fly back to his home thousands of miles away and she would start planning the next event…
again. It was all a circle of life, consistent and stable, which she loved and relished. Right?
She mentally patted herself on her back at her great willpower of keeping her focus grounded on reality and not Taylor Compton’s lips.
She didn’t know what to say to him, though.
She shook her head. She didn’t need to say anything.
His countenance changed so quickly, Chelsey wasn’t sure what she witnessed there.
Pain? Sadness? Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to talk about it.
He put his hand softly on the back of her head and touched his forehead to hers.
She closed her eyes against his closeness and the moisture that kept building behind her eyelids.
“In a few, short hours, the auction will be over and a rousing success due to the hard work of the best event planner in the West.” He kissed her forehead then bent and picked up one of her shoes.
He held it up for her to slide her foot into.
“Let’s start by putting your shoes back on.
Heels always seemed to give you confidence. ”
How did he remember so much about her? She thought the time and miles would erase the memories they’d shared together.
But who was she trying to convince? Every movement, gaze and dimpled smile took her crashing back to their time together ever since he walked into the GP only a few days ago.
The way he smoothed an eyebrow when he was nervous; that traitorous dimple that she loved to coax out by teasing him; the rumble of his laugh as he held her close, all were reminders of what she hadn’t realized that she’d missed for years.
Dang him. Dang Taylor Andrew Compton for coming back here and making her nostalgic for his touch and words and kisses.
“Only because heels make me taller than five feet and three inches,” Chelsey said in a whisper.
She didn’t dare say anymore because of the lump forming in her throat.
Taylor had no idea how his simple act of service softened her heart completely toward him; there was no one else for Chelsey, only him. It had always been him.
He glanced at her as he finished buckling the second shoe. His head tipped to the side as he studied her like he was trying to find a buried treasure or a sign that she forgave him. He knelt that way for a long moment, then seemed to come to a decision with a slight nod of his head.
His smile softened but there was enough to reveal the dimple she loved. “Are you ready to go and conquer tonight?”
She stood straighter with more confidence and motivation. “Let’s do this.”