“We’re not kids anymore, Amy. You met Darren when we were teenagers. Back then, we had our hearts set on happily-ever-after. But now? I’m building a career. Yes, I’m still a little boy crazy at times. But I have my priorities. One man isn’t going to upend my life, believe me.”
Her cousin sounded so certain, Amy found herself nodding. And maybe Eloise had a point. What did Amy know about relationships? She was starting all over again. It had never occurred to her that she could write her own rules.
But she could. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. Still, she didn’t know where to start.
Not with orgasm-inducing fantasies about Mark...
“But Gabe’s also a friend,” Amy said, knowing she sounded like Mark.
“And now we’re friends who get naked together.”
Amy frowned, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “It can’t be that simple.”
“Yes, it can,” Eloise said. “Simple and fun. Promise.”
* * *
BY THREE THAT AFTERNOON, Amy and her team of volunteers had settled the puppies into the whelping room, introduced Nova to her new home and unloaded the rental truck. Leaving her cousin to play with the pups, Amy stood outside in the cool spring air surveying the piles of tent parts, lighting booms and fixtures, outdoor space heaters, tables and chairs. Thank goodness the caterers were handling the dishes and glasses for Saturday’s event. With less than forty-eight hours to go, setting all this up with only four men was a tall order.
“Are you guys sure you know how to put the tent together?” Amy asked.
Luke draped his arm over her shoulders. “We’ve got this. Don’t you even think about calling the company back and paying their crew to do this. With the joint efforts of the air force, army and navy working for you, we’ll have it up in no time.”
Mark glanced up from a pile of metal parts. She swore his jaw tightened when he saw Luke’s arm around her.
“You’ve put so much into this,” Mark said. “Let us help you now. Go work with your dogs. When you come back out, we’ll have your tent built.”
Amy turned to head inside.
“Amy, dear, just a moment,” her former mother-in-law called.
Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Elizabeth Benton marching across the field. She was a tall woman with a full head of gray hair. In her own way, Mrs. Benton—Amy still couldn’t think of her as Elizabeth—was just as imposing as her sons, a strong matriarch for her family.
“Mom, I thought you were cooking,” T.J. called. “I’ve been dreaming about your biscuits for months.”
“They’re in the oven,” Mrs. Benton said, heading straight for her. Amy briefly considered escaping inside the kennel, but she knew Mrs. Benton would follow, determined to talk about the menu or the chairs or any of the other small details connected to the dedication.
“Is there a problem?” Amy asked. Maybe the caterers had called to cancel. Or all the guests had decided they had something more important to do.
Mrs. Benton stopped in front of Amy. “I wanted to talk to you about your speech.”
“My speech?” Amy repeated. She’d intended to say something about the dogs and her plans for the kennel, but nothing more.
“Before you address the crowd, I would like to say a few words,” Mrs. Benton said, her lips forming a warm smile. “I don’t know another woman who would go to all this trouble for her late husband. My boy was so devoted. To his country, his family, his beliefs, and to you.”
Mrs. Benton’s words came from the heart, sending a wave of guilt washing over Amy. Why did part of her fight so hard to make this place hers? She’d known when she put Darren’s name on the building that everyone would think she’d opened the kennel to honor him. And there was some truth to that. Darren deserved to be remembered. But worshipped? Placed on a pedestal for his devotion?
Darren had been a good man and even better soldier. But Amy knew the truth. He wasn’t perfect. And while he’d been dedicated to his team and his country, it hadn’t extended to her, not toward the end.
“No one could ask for a more perfect daughter-in-law, Amy,” Mrs. Benton continued. “You’re like my angel. And I would like a chance, while we have a microphone and a captive audience, to tell everyone how proud I am of you.”
Amy tensed. Closing her eyes, she stepped away, needing space before she screamed, I’m not perfect! She felt a presence at her side, a strong solid wall of muscle. A hand, familiar and welcome, grasped hers. This time it wasn’t Jango who’d come to her rescue, but Mark.
“Sounds like a plan, Mrs. B,” Mark said. “But I’m with T.J.—you might want to check on those biscuits. I’ve been dreaming about them, too.”
Elizabeth Benton chuckled. “You boys and your appetites. You’ll get your biscuits. And, Amy, please think about it. I would love to say a few words.”
She nodded, squeezing Mark’s hand. “Of course.”