Until I Met You

by Tari Faris

  “I love it.” She meandered around the small space, studying each rose. “This place is magical. You should put white lights in here.”

  “White lights? How would that help the plants?”

  “It probably wouldn’t, but it’d be pretty.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Libby ran her fingers over the petals of a light pink rose. “Did you have a greenhouse at your last place?”

  “In Canton? Yes. I keep a greenhouse going if I can wherever I am. It’s my place to hide away and de-stress.” Austin plucked the dead leaves from the pot in front of him. “Do you want to help me repot this rose?”

  “I don’t want to kill it.”

  “It’s a plant. A fairly hardy one at that.”

  She seemed to weigh her options a moment, then lifted her chin. “What do I do?”

  Austin grabbed a larger pot from the shelf and set it on the table. He picked up the potting soil. “First you need to add a bit of soil to the bottom.”

  Libby pulled out a large scoop with both hands and dropped it in the pot. “Like that?”

  “Probably not quite that much. You still have to fit everything that’s in this pot in there.” Austin dumped some soil back in the bag and made a small divot in the bottom. “Now lift the pot with one hand and wrap your hand around the base of the plant with the other. Careful of the thorns. Wait, you may want gloves.” He grabbed a pair off the table and handed them to her.

  The gloves were too big for her, but she slipped them on and gripped the plant as he’d said.

  “Now turn the plant upside down and let everything fall out of the pot. It should stay in a clump for the most part.”

  Libby’s hands gripped the plant tighter. “What if I drop it?”

  “Then we’ll pick it up.”

  “But it’ll damage the plant.”

  “It’ll be fine, Libby. Trust yourself.”

  She swallowed and turned the pot over slower than he could have thought possible. “Now what? Help! I’m going to drop it.”

  “You’re doing great. Now lift off the pot.” He put his hands on the sides and helped her lift.

  She inspected the ball of dirt and roots. “I did it.”

  “You did.” He set the empty pot aside and pointed to the one they’d readied. “Now put that in the new pot.”

  Libby placed it in the larger pot with more precision and care than he’d ever given a plant in his life.

  “Now put in more soil to fill the edges.”

  “How long have you been growing plants?”

  “I wanted to be a botanist. That was my major at U of M. But that didn’t work out. Maybe a little of that passion remains.”

  “Why didn’t it work out?” She scratched her forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt behind.

  “My brother drove the company van into a storefront while he was drunk. He wasn’t on the company insurance, and unless my parents were willing to take him to court for it, they were liable along with our business. Budgets were cut, the money for U of M was gone, and I was needed to keep the family business alive. Sacrifices had to be made.” Austin walked the empty pot to the shelf. “So I dropped out of U of M. I finished my landscape architecture degree through night classes at a local college, but it was never my passion. I did it because my dad needed help.”

  She peeled off the gloves. “So, Nate’s bad choice derailed your life.”

  “Yup.”

  “Is that why you hate him?”

  “I don’t hate him. I’m angry that he caused so much chaos in so many lives and doesn’t seem to have to account for it.”

  “So much chaos? Was there more?”

  Austin sat on the edge of the table. “The business was nearly ruined. Not only did I rearrange my life because of it, it also added stress to my parents. They even had to take out an extra loan against the house. But Nate? He went on to make bad decisions for the next year. By the time he got his life together, we had almost dug ourselves out of the hole and were surviving again. Our dad told Nate he wanted him to have a fresh start.”

  “Wow.”

  “Then Nate got the call of God to become a pastor, and now everyone loves perfect Pastor Nate. When he graduated from seminary, my father said he’d never been prouder.” He gripped the edge of the table as the memory burned inside him.

  She placed a hand on his arm but didn’t say anything.

  “‘Never’ is a pretty big word.” He pushed away from the table and moved the spade back to the shelf, the tool clanging in the silence. “It didn’t matter that I’d done everything he’d ever asked of me. It didn’t matter that I’d thrown away my plans to keep the family business going. He was proud of Nate because he’d become a pastor.”

  Libby brushed a hand across his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Austin.”

  He turned to tell her it didn’t matter, but the look in her eyes stopped him. She wasn’t offering pity. She was sorry. Sorry that his dream had been ripped from him. Sorry for his dad’s words. And sorry that his relationship with his brother was still not right.

  Her hand slid down his shoulder to his forearm. “Why don’t you pursue this botany dream now?”

  He shrugged, then stared at her hand, which was now toying with a scar on his forearm. “I’m not sure I want that degree anymore. I’d love to open a greenhouse, but if I don’t save the business, who will? And it’s important to my dad. It’s all he has left.”

  “That’s why you need good publicity for the business now.”

  “Yes. So I can’t have beautiful women falling to their death from the roof of the library. Talk about bad publicity.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  She had to know she was beautiful. But the shocked expression on her face said otherwise.

  “You’re one of the most beautiful women I know. At least when you don’t have dirt smudged across your face.” Austin rubbed at the smudge with his thumb.

  Her eyes closed with the touch of his hand, and her teeth captured her bottom lip.

  “Libby, you made it pretty clear at the schoolhouse that you didn’t want me to kiss you. I respect that. Unless you’ve changed your mind, we need to stop this.” He took a half step back.

  Libby’s eyes popped open. “You think I don’t want to kiss you?” She spun and paced the two feet to the table and back. “What I want is to stop dealing with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Every time I think we’re getting close, you push me away again. I wasn’t willing to have you kiss me only to act like I don’t exist tomorrow.”

  The barb hit its mark. She was right. In his desperation to figure out his own mind, he’d been completely unfair to her.

  “I came here not to give you back that dumb hammer. I came to find out if this”—she pointed between them—“is something. And when I say ‘something,’ I don’t mean hot one day and cold the next.” She placed her hands on his forearms, her thumb finding the scar from last summer again. “I came to find out what you want.”

  “I want . . .” What did he want? He didn’t want to be trapped in a relationship with a person he couldn’t trust. But that wasn’t Libby. That was Becky, and it was time to get that straight in his mind. Libby wasn’t Becky. He took a half step forward, leaving only inches between them. “I want you.” He ran his hands up her arms and stopped at her collarbone.

  “And I want you.” Her voice came out a bit rougher this time. “But I may have stopped the kiss because I was a little . . . scared.”

  “Of me.” He loosened his hold.

  “No.” She tightened her grip. “Scared to care for someone again. Scared to try.”

  He brushed a piece of wet hair from her forehead. “Sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage.”

  “I’ve heard that before.” Her head tilted as if she was searching her memory. “Mark Twain?”

  “No. We Bought a Zoo.”

  She laughed and swatted his arm.

  His thumbs traced the ed
ge of her jaw. “Are you ready for some insane courage?”

  “Yes.”

  His thumb traveled along her bottom lip. “Can I kiss you now?”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned closer, brushing his lips along her jaw until he found that freckle just below her right ear that had been driving him crazy the other day. “You’re very agreeable tonight.”

  Her breathing slowed as he moved his lips back toward her mouth. “Would you just kiss me al—”

  Austin silenced her protest with his mouth. Her lips were soft and warm and tasted a bit like summer rain. She moved her hands up behind his shoulders and back down his arms. He let go of the need to be right, to be perfect. Here he could just be in the now. He drew in a slow breath as every nerve in his body ached for more. More of Libby, more of her touch, and more of the escape from the stress of life that he found here in her arms.

  Libby responded to him, matching his pressure and gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer. He could lose himself in her without one regret.

  When he released her, she took a step back, her lips red and a bit puffy. She offered a hesitant smile and moved toward the door. She pushed it open but turned back at the last second. “Thanks for teaching me about plants. Good night.” Then she disappeared into the rain.

  He’d put Libby through so much, their first date had to be epic. But when? His schedule with the square had his calendar filled. Except for next Friday. He winced. That was when he’d scheduled the rose delivery. The heirloom greenhouse was booked up, and getting that date had taken him weeks. If he canceled, who knew when they could come again.

  But all he needed was someone to sign for the delivery. Nate wanted a chance to prove himself. It looked like next Friday he was going to have a chance.

  eleven

  She should be mad—furious, actually. Olivia tightened her grip on Nate’s waist and buried her face in his back to hide from the wind. The last thing she needed was bugs in her teeth. Maybe they should’ve taken her car. But when he’d shown up that morning to take her fishing instead of Ted, she didn’t know if she should be thrilled that this was what Libby had been hiding from her or frustrated that Nate seemed to want it both ways. He didn’t want to be with her but didn’t want her with anyone else.

  She climbed off the bike and eyed Nate as he slid off his helmet. Even with helmet hair, he was distracting. A grin filled his face as he reached up and tugged a leaf from her hair. Right. Because after a ride through the country, he was ready for a model shoot and she needed defoliating.

  Nate dropped the leaf and started down a narrow path that cut between the trees. “This is Chet Anderson’s land. Luke and I leave our boats over here.”

  Olivia’s fingers combed the rest of her hair in search of any more leaves as she walked. She’d have to tie it back for the ride home.

  It was only about thirty feet before the path opened into a clearing that dipped to the edge of a good-sized lake. One large oak stretched out over the water, but most of the trees stopped about fifteen feet back from the shore. Tall grass lined the shore and dipped into the lake, with just a handful of pale yellow wildflowers left over from the summer.

  “What lake is this?”

  “It’s a little finger off of Stony Lake. It has a couple small rivers that flow through it, but the current isn’t too bad right here. Nothing we can’t handle coming back. The boat is just over here.” Nate stepped over a log about knee-high, then offered her his hand.

  She slid hers into it, trying not to think about the warmth, the rough callouses against her palm, or what it would feel like to be held by those hands. Okay, maybe she wasn’t trying very hard.

  After she hopped the log, he dropped her hand and moved ahead. “We just need to push off. I brought all the fishing stuff down this morning when I still had access to the van.”

  Olivia paused at the water’s edge, and her pulse began to speed up. Somehow in the events of the morning, she’d been so caught up with everything that was happening with Nate that she’d forgotten the real problem.

  Fishing. In a lake. With fish. She might be sick. She sat on a log and drew in a huge breath.

  Then there was the little detail she didn’t like to confess to anyone. “Do you have a life jacket?”

  “Yeah, we always keep them in the boat.” Nate pulled something from his pocket and then leaned down into the boat.

  “Can I wear it?” Olivia stepped closer. “Why is there a hole in the boat?”

  “It’s for the plug.” He held up a cap-looking thing. “With all the rain yesterday, I had to make sure it was fully drained.”

  Something in her face must have given her away, because he hurried to her side. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing.” A cool sensation washed over her, and she shoved her hands in her pockets to keep from shaking.

  He stood in front of her. “Olivia, it isn’t nothing. Talk to me.”

  She eyed the dark water, then looked back at him. “I don’t like fish.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Nate’s mouth. “Is that all? We don’t have to eat them. Just a quick catch and release.”

  “No, it isn’t the eating. It’s the touching.”

  He offered a shrug. “I’ll take them off the hook.”

  “And the seeing.”

  “Seeing?” One eyebrow lifted as he rested his hands on his hips. “How are you going to fish without seeing fish?”

  “I haven’t figured that out. I think I’ll be okay if they don’t surprise me. I just hate the fact you can’t see where they are in the dark water.” A shiver traveled the length of her body.

  Nate grabbed a life jacket from the boat and handed it to her. “I’ve never had one jump in my boat before.”

  “I’m serious.” She dropped the life jacket around her neck. Of course, it would have to be a ridiculous orange one with the tie at the chin. “I don’t think them being on a line will be as bad. It’s mostly seeing them in the water doing that slithery-jerky thing they do.”

  “You mean swimming.” He let out a laugh this time.

  “This isn’t funny.” She made an attempt at a bow with the straps but failed. “Didn’t you say once in a sermon that you had an irrational phobia of snakes?”

  “Yes.”

  She dropped the straps and pointed at the stick next to his foot. “What if I told you there was one by your foot?”

  Nate let out an unmanly squeal as he jumped from one foot to the other. “Where?”

  “There is no snake.” Olivia giggled, then worked at tying the straps once more. “It was an example. That’s how I feel about fish.”

  “First of all, not funny.” He pointed a finger at her, but there was still laughter in his eyes. “But fish?”

  Her second attempt at a bow didn’t go any better. “I can handle spiders, snakes, and mice, okay? It’s a phobia. By definition it’s irrational.”

  He pulled the straps from her hands and tied a bow. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do.” Why was her voice thick all of a sudden?

  He grabbed the waist strap and stretched around her to secure the final buckle. “Why?”

  “The Phoenix Tribune said that—”

  “I didn’t realize you were still hoping to get that job.” Nate’s lips thinned a bit as he popped the buckle into place.

  She tried to force a look of indifference. “It’s not like I have anything holding me here.”

  Nate winced. “Right. Well, let’s do this so you can write that article. And I’ll do my best not to surprise you with any fish. I promise they won’t jump in the boat. And this is a flat-bottom rowboat. Pretty stable.”

  “I’m not a good swimmer.”

  Nate squeezed her hand. “I promise not to let you drown.” He dropped her hand and pointed to the boat. “In you go.”

  She put one foot in the boat and it swayed under her. She screamed and grabbed the side. “I thought you said it was a stable boat.”

/>   “It is, but it’s still a boat. You can’t stand in it.” Nate grabbed her hand again and helped her sit. Then in one swift movement, he pushed off and jumped in the boat. It offered only a small teeter as he did. Show-off.

  It was a warm day for the first of October, but there was no doubt that the cold nights had chilled the water. She shaded her eyes against the late morning sun reflecting off the water as Nate pulled against the oars. The motion defined the muscles in his wide shoulders, and Olivia found herself thankful for fishing for the first time in her life. Ten minutes later, they’d made it about a hundred yards down the shore and about fifty feet out.

  “This is my favorite fishing spot.” He pointed to the edge of the woods. “You see that little shed-looking thing right through those trees? That’s Chet’s ice-fishing hut. He let Luke and me use it last winter. That reminds me, I need to check to see if I left a few things in there when we’re done here.”

  “Fishing through the ice? I’m not sure if that would be better or worse. I think I’d be afraid the ice would crack.”

  “We make sure the ice is plenty thick first.” Nate picked up a pole and started doing something with the end of the line. “Are you ready to give fishing a go?”

  She peeked over the edge of the boat, then back at Nate. “The way I see it, people fish all the time and fail. I don’t have to catch anything to make the story believable, but I do have to at least make an effort.”

  Nate popped open a box of small slimy orange spheres and stabbed one with the hook. “I bought these last year and never had any luck with them. This way you can say that you used bait, but the chances of you catching anything go way down. I already added the bobber and weights earlier. You’re all set.”

  “Perfect.” Olivia reached for the pole, then held it over the side, letting the hook dip just below the surface.

  Nate tried to cover his laugh with a cough, but it didn’t work.

  She glared at him. “What?”

  “You need to cast it.”

  “Cast?”

  “Let me show you.” He readied another pole, tilted it back, and then gave a quick flick of his wrist. The hook sailed about thirty feet away before sinking below the surface.