Not that it mattered, really. I couldn’t imagine Champ showing up every evening just to talk. Lord knew the man never stuck around after daybreak.

“Anyway!” I pasted on a bright smile and tapped my tablet to bring it back to life so I could take notes. “Enough chitchat when we have the world’s most epic wedding to plan, right? As I was saying. Coat of paint in here. Redo the bathroom. And outside…” I opened the front door of the cabin and stepped outside. “Looks like we’ll need some boards replaced. Definitely some cleaning. But I can already imagine the casual shots of the groomsmen sitting out there, propped against the railings, can’t you?”

She trailed after me, eyes wide. “I can, but…”

“You said the interior of the main house is in great shape, so that should be all set. But we’re going to need lots of landscaping work over there and here.” I circled my hand in the air.

“Okay…”

“And we’re gonna need gravel,” I warned. “Like, all the gravel in Tennessee, just to make some paths up to the parking area near the main house. Not to mention the carriages. How many draft horses do you have here? Never mind, it’s probably not enough, but we can get those too.”

“Whoa,” Marissa whispered. “Quinn, are you sure you can get this done in time? I know I was joking earlier about you leaning in and getting problems solved, but if we only have a few weeks—”

“It’s a lot,” I told her honestly, “but Champ knows some talented guys.”

At least, he’d promised me he did. And in this area, I really did believe him.

Marissa nodded mechanically, but she still looked worried.

At that moment, a little car that looked like a four-wheel-drive golf cart came bumping over the rise, with Levi at the wheel and Champ hanging on to the oh-shit bar and looking decidedly unhappy.

At least it wasn’t only my driving that put that look on his face. Poor, overgrown control freak. I wondered if he’d shouted at Levi to “Mind the hogs!” and I couldn’t help laughing, which of course Champ noticed.

It was a sad commentary on my level of attraction to the man that even when he looked ready to murder me, the sight of him still made my heart thump faster and my stomach contract with want.

Levi pulled the cart to a stop right beside the front porch steps and made a beeline for Marissa. “Riss? What’s got you looking so upset?” He darted an accusing glance at me, like maybe I’d upset her.

Which… I mean, I suppose I sort of had, accidentally.

“There’s just a lot of work to do before the wedding,” Marissa said. “I mean, I knew there would be, but I don’t think I really knew it-knew it until Quinn and I started making a list.”

Champ got out of the cart and stalked toward me. “Problem?”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” I assured him. In a much lower voice, I asked, “Is a few minutes in the golf cart of doom enough to make you long for a ride in my rattling, orange, glow-in-the-dark death wagon? Because if so, Rebecca expects an apology.”

Champ made a rude noise. “The day I apologize to your car—”

“Rissy, it’s gonna be fine.” Levi draped a comforting (and concerningly non-fraternal) arm over Marissa’s shoulder and pulled her against his side. “You need a hug?”

Champ and I exchanged a glance, our amusement gone.

“No, I know,” Marissa agreed. “Quinn’s got people, and they’ll get things done. I just… can’t help worrying.” She laid her head on Levi’s shoulder. “I want everything to be perfect.”

“I know, babe,” Levi said softly, tucking back a tendril of hair that had escaped her sunshiny hat.

Champ flared his eyes at this development, like he wanted me to do something. But what did he expect me to do, rip them apart bodily?

He squeezed my hand. “I have an idea. Go with me, okay?” he murmured.

Was he kidding? The man was plotting something, but I didn’t know what. “Nope.”

“Quinn…”

“Ugh. Fine. But don’t make any—” Promises, I wanted to say.

But Champ was already strolling away, approaching Marissa with a bright smile and both hands outstretched. “Marissa, honey, I can’t imagine how much stress you’re under.” He clucked sympathetically. “Quinn and I both want to do as much as we possibly can to make this easier on you. Don’t we, Pop-Tart?”

“Of course,” I agreed, though my brain was still stuck on the fact that Champ was capable of clucking sympathetically. “You’re our—my—priority.”

“It’s understandable that you’d be nervous about having all this happening while you’re back in Nashville!” he continued. “You probably want to be more hands-on. Lots of brides do. Which is why Quinn and I think it would be best for your peace of mind if you move out to the farm until the wedding.”

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