by Amanda Ashby
Sam gave a slight lift of her brows. “We thought it best to head down to the water. Sound can’t carry that far, right?”
“It’s not that bad,” Paige said in a bright voice as Laney flipped off the lights and patted the peach-colored dahlias. They walked across the road to the sandy beach. Another drumroll sounded, but it wasn’t as loud.
“You’re only saying that because you live with Luke, four miles away,” Sam retorted. “I swear plaster fell from the kitchen ceiling yesterday. The only one who’s immune is Kira.”
“She’s pretty smitten.” Paige spread out the picnic rug, and Sam poured the wine before producing a plate of cheeses and glistening, plump olives.
“So is he.” Sam’s face relaxed. “These days he’s actually talking in full sentences, and I swear I saw him smiling. The power of a crush.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Paige held up her glass in a toast.
They spent the next twenty minutes catching up as Violet cautiously sniffed a piece of seaweed that had dried out on the sand. Laney giggled as the little dog jumped back when a soft breeze lifted it up.
“It’s nice to unwind.” Sam popped an olive into her mouth. “I’ve been so busy organizing the Spring Fling that the other day I put cumin instead of cinnamon into my carrot cake. It didn’t end well. Not even Fred would eat it,” she said, referring to one of her regular customers who went there for free food and to try and convince Sam to marry him.
He was seventy and succeeded with the former more than the latter.
“I’m all set for my booth,” Laney said. “Only floral crowns. Ever since I started making them for Violet, I’ve been getting more orders.”
“Put me and Kira down,” Paige chimed in. “And I’ll try and convince Luke, but it might be a tough sell.”
“I’ve known Luke Carmichael for most of my life. If he wears a floral crown, I’ll eat this picnic basket,” Sam said with feeling.
Paige laughed. “He is getting more adventurous. He kissed me in front of a busload of tourists the other day.”
“You two are wonderful together,” Laney said with a happy sigh, then instantly regretted it when Sam quirked an eyebrow.
“So, time to spill about your date.”
Damn. She’d been hoping to avoid that.
“And not the boring part, either,” Paige added. “We want the part where Adam Fitzpatrick came and saved you.”
“You heard?” she said, not really surprised. News traveled fast in St. Clair. Normally, she thought it was cute. Today, not so much.
Sam nodded. “I heard that Adam ended up at Patsy’s Diner, along with the sobbing mess of a guy who turned out to be your dinner date. They were there for three hours.”
“Three hours?” she yelped. She thought he’d spend ten minutes with him in the bar at most. Her entire dinner hadn’t even been that long.
She shifted uncomfortably. Seeing him climb a tree for Tilly and now spend hours with Carl wasn’t quite in line with the villain he’d become in her mind.
When they first dated, the heat between them hadn’t left room for anything else, and after he’d cut her from his life, it had been easy to convince herself that what they’d shared had just been lust. Something dangerous and not to be attempted again. Something she couldn’t trust.
But watching him play Good Samaritan forced her to remember the other parts of him, ones she’d deleted from her mind.
Of him bringing her soup when she’d been sick. Spending his day off helping an elderly neighbor move to a new house. Playing basketball with the group of kids on the street corner.
And he’d kept his word. He’d stayed out of her way.
“Seems like I picked the perfect neighbor for you.” Paige beamed.
“Speak of the devil,” Sam said as a figure walked toward them. She beckoned him over. Violet stiffened and began to bark, and Laney scooped her up in the hope of hiding her own overheated cheeks.
“We were just talking about you,” Paige said.
“Sounds ominous,” Adam replied, his voice the same low rumble. She tried to muster up the familiar anger, but it was nowhere to be found. His mouth widened into a disconcerting smile.
Was this how the rest of the world saw him?
The skin between her breasts tingled, and languid heat spread through her body. She ignored it. Itches were stupid. If she paid attention to it, she’d soon be like poor Carl, sobbing on the hood of his sensibly colored car. No good could come from it.
“Your secret’s been uncovered, that’s all.”
“Really?” Concern marred his smile. Like he actually cared.
Not that secret. She tried to flash back at him, and he visibly relaxed.
“The way you rescued Laney from her date,” Sam continued. “According to Patsy, you were somewhere between Yoda and Morpheus.”
An embarrassed shadow crossed his face. “I just told him Giselle sounded like a nice girl and that it wasn’t a good idea to turn up on her doorstep at midnight after being on a date with someone else.”
“Ruff.” Violet narrowed her eyes, her good ear forward and her face in a frown.
“I’m with you, V,” Sam said. “This is why I don’t date.”
“I don’t think that’s what she’s saying.” Adam took a cautious step back from the little dog. “We got off to a bad start.”
Laney wanted to explain that Violet had sensed they’d been arguing and was trying to protect her. But she stopped herself. Arguing suggested they knew each other. And it wasn’t really an argument. She’d just been expressing her extreme displeasure at seeing him again.
Paige and Sam looked at her expectantly. She was saved from answering by Adam, who announced he was expecting a phone call. With a quick goodbye, he strode away. She rubbed her brow to ease the tension of her growing headache.
It was hard enough trying to ignore the physical itch he kept rousing in her; the last thing she needed was to see him being nice to other people. Myself included.
The sooner his book was finished, the better it would be. For everyone.
Chapter Seven
“Can’t decide if you like someone or not? Kiss them. Your head might lie, but your body won’t.” Blue Moon
Adam slowed his pace, his breath catching in his chest. How long had it been since his last run? The stitch in his side gave him the answer. The day was overcast, and the faint breeze helped ease his pain as he walked across the parking lot of the Bluebell. He’d been up late finishing a scene and had even humored his assistant by spending two hours writing articles, answering fan mail, and checking out his schedule for the next six months.
There were still a couple of events that he couldn’t cancel, but he’d been able to push them back a few months until he returned to L.A.
He reached the white cottage where Ryan and Eloise were staying. He hadn’t seen them since ditching them halfway through their meal to take care of Carl. He hadn’t meant to. He’d stepped out to take a phone call from his agent and discovered Laney with her date.
She’d been concerned but not annoyed. That in itself had been a surprise.
If Eloise had been on a bad date with a sobbing man still in love with his ex, she would have walked out, probably tipping a glass of wine over him for good measure.
But Laney was just awkwardly patting his arm.
She had it under control, and if he had any sense, he would’ve just taken his call, then gone back to dinner. After all, he’d promised to stay out of her way.
Instead I went all white knight on her.
No comment.
The door opened before he could knock, and Ryan almost walked straight into him. “What the hell? You scared the crazy out of me.”
“Highly doubtful,” Adam countered. His brother gave him a broad smile.
“Touché. The crazy runs deep with
us.”
“I talk to imaginary characters in my head. My crazy’s certified.”
“You mean certifiable.” His brother leaned against the doorframe. He was six inches taller, fifty pounds bigger, and had the speed of a panther. It explained why he got the ball career and Adam had become the guy who wrote about it. “So, what’re you up to, little brother?”
“Just visiting some meathead.” He shrugged, which earned him a light punch on the arm.
“I’ll let you know if I see any,” Ryan replied and peered back into the cottage. “Hey, El, we have a visitor.”
“If you’re coming to Mayfield House with us, you’ll need to change.” Eloise appeared in the doorway.
“That big ugly building ten miles out of town?” He shook his head, trying and failing to think of anything worse than visiting a place filled with antiques. “You two are on your own. Gotta make the most of your baby-free days.”
“Thanks for your concern, but you don’t need to worry.” Ryan grinned as his arm snaked around Eloise’s curvy waist. “We’ve got it all under control.”
“Honey, remember we had the little chat about oversharing?” Eloise chided. “We’ll let you off visiting a historic building, but dinner tonight. You’re paying.”
“Sure,” he said in a bemused voice. “I’d suggest somewhere, but I’m guessing you’ve already booked.”
“Of course. I’ll text you the details.” She gave him a dazzling smile as they walked over to the flashy rental car and drove off. Damn. Too late, Adam realized he should have asked for a lift.
He glanced to the road and then to the stretch of trees behind the inn. Jessica had mentioned something about it being a shortcut back to town.
Do it, his aching muscles instructed.
He rolled his shoulders and walked up the slight rise. Firs, pines, and oaks stretched out all around, and the ground, damp from the previous night’s rain, dulled his footsteps.
The sun pushed through the canopy, and ten minutes later the tall trees fell away to lower shrubs and long grass. His muscles were no longer aching, and he took a couple of photos.
“Ruff.”
He lowered his phone to where a scruffy tan-and-white face glared at him. His breathing quickened in a way that had nothing to do with exercise. If Violet was here, Laney couldn’t be far away. He scanned the area, hoping for a flash of auburn hair. Nothing.
Did that mean Violet was lost?
Laney had made her feelings about him perfectly clear, but he could hardly leave the dog out here on her own. He crouched down and held out his hand. Violet’s dark eyes narrowed as she bared her small teeth. A low growl came from her throat. It was at odds with the dandelions threaded through her collar
“Don’t tell me you’re running away again?” he said in a coaxing voice, his hand still out.
“Ruff.” Violet stood her ground. Adam’s mouth twitched as he reached for a stick. Obviously, this wasn’t going to be a straightforward rescue mission.
“You’re right. I said some things. Some bad things, but I’m sure we can work through it. Here, look. Want to fetch?” He threw the stick. Violet didn’t move.
Was it possible for a dog to give him an eye roll?
“She doesn’t like that game,” Laney’s voice said from somewhere behind a scraggy shrub. Heat washed over him as he twisted his head, once again searching for her.
“Isn’t it built into their nature? A hunter and gatherer gene? And where are you? Are you hiding up a blossom tree again?”
The leaves rustled, and she appeared. Silken copper hair tumbled down her shoulders, and her yellow dress left her arms and legs bare. When he’d first met her back in San Francisco, she’d been pale. But now she was tanned. Tiny freckles were spread across the bridge of her small nose and her exposed shoulders. Being outside suited her.
“As surprising as it sounds, I don’t always climb trees to hide from people,” she said, seemingly oblivious to the effect she was having on him. Her arms were full of branches. She marched over to a red wagon.
“So, I’m special?” He moved toward her. Why was he flirting with her? Because he had a death wish?
“Should I list the ways?” She arched an eyebrow to suggest her list wouldn’t be positive. “And there’s nothing strange about Violet not chasing sticks. After all, humans are vastly different. Why can’t dogs be as well?”
“I stand corrected,” he said as Violet sniffed one of the branches hanging off the cart.
“Good. Maybe it will teach you not to judge my dog.”
“Working on it,” he said. At least he hadn’t mentioned the nail polish or the flowers this time. Then he frowned. “What are you doing out here?”
“Foraging.” She brushed down the skirt of her dress. Leaves and twigs fell to the ground, and she slung a leather satchel into the cart before gripping the handle. “A florist’s life isn’t all hothouse orchids.”
She tugged the cart in the direction of the inn. He considered his original plan to walk home through the woods. Who was he kidding? He was born and bred in the city. He’d get lost, only to be discovered four years later with a beard down to his knees and the ability to build a hut from a log and an elastic band.
He followed, trying not to be mesmerized by the way the sunlight bounced off her hair, turning it to flaming colors of amber and red as it fell around her shoulders. His fingers twitched, wanting to plunge into the glossy strands. To push them back from her face and claim her mouth.
Ignore it.
Stepping to the side, he kept walking, staying just out of hair-touching distance. It was safest for everyone.
“I’ve seen your work around town. It’s great,” he said.
He’d watched her leaving every morning and reappearing with armfuls of flowers. And after the store closed, she’d often be in her courtyard painting, working in her own garden, or just talking to Violet.
Laney George appeared to have the work ethic of a special operative.
And really hot legs.
“Thank you,” she said in a prim voice as Violet walked close to her ankle. Her eyes drifted over to him. “You still jog.”
“Not as often these days,” he admitted. At least the stitch had gone.
She stopped at another bundle of branches. Some she’d prepared earlier? There was a pile of blush-colored flowers with tiny petals that spired up like a steeple, the fragrant scent filling the air.
A tangle of memories wrapped through his mind. Of skin and heat and being outdoors together. His body stiffened. Christ, he needed to pull himself together.
She didn’t seem to notice. Instead she studied her nails before finally peering up at him through a sweep of lashes. “I never said thank you for helping me with Carl the other night.”
“No big deal.” He shrugged, still not ready to analyze his motives. Especially considering he hated being referred to as Doctor Josh. “Turns out Patsy makes great pie. The other reason why I’m jogging.”
“I hope it didn’t ruin your dinner with your brother and his wife,” she said cautiously, her eyes brimming with sympathy.
Which meant she knew Eloise was pregnant. He was learning just how quickly things spread in the small town. He sighed and rubbed his chin.
“Nights out with Ryan and Eloise are always…interesting. Carl was a good distraction,” he admitted. “Need a hand with your sticks?”
A reluctant laugh escaped her. “You make it sound like I’m a weirdo who collects them for fun.”
“I’m trying to practice non-judgment, remember.”
“You might need a bit more work,” she said, but there was no sting to it. She pulled out a large gardening bag from her leather satchel and settled it on top of the red cart. Then she carefully lifted the branches in, like they were delicate pieces of art rather than just brown, broken things.
; He followed suit and helped settle them into the bag. Then she flipped the sides up and used a piece of rope to secure it.
“This is quite a system.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.” She tied a complicated knot and brushed her soil-covered hands against her skirt. Again his blood heated. Hell. This was getting ridiculous.
“How did you even start your business? Last I knew, you were teaching.”
“When I moved here ten years ago, it was hard to get a full-time teaching job because no one ever leaves. So, I started doing bouquets. At first, I just filled our cottage. Then it spilled over into the inn. After that, I got a wedding inquiry. Then after—” She sucked in a breath and steadied herself, as if she couldn’t even say Simon’s name in front of him. “Well, after what happened, I needed to be busy, and I needed to support myself. So I sold the cottage and bought the store. I’ve spent four years building the business from scratch.”
“I’m impressed.” Adam let out a long whistle.
For so long, he’d thought of her as risk-averse, but there was nothing safe about selling her home to start a business. And succeeding.
“Don’t be. I’ve made plenty of mistakes. Double-booked myself, ordered the wrong flowers. Once I had to improvise using the lettuce from my fridge,” she said, but the pride in her eyes was unmistakable. Her cheeks flushed. She gripped the handle of the cart, steering it forward. He walked alongside her, with Violet running ahead.
“Multipurpose. I like it.”
“Thanks,” she said before peering up at him. “So, you never told me what this book is about.”
“Worried you’re in it?” He quirked an eyebrow.
“I’m hoping lightning doesn’t strike twice.”
“I meant what I said the other night. This book’s about a guy called Myles who wakes up in a multiverse, and every day he has to live another version of his life. They all end in disaster.”
“Is Doctor Josh retired now?” she said, then flinched, as if not wanting him to know she’d been following his career. More like his literary descent on the Dante Express. He let out a brittle sigh. No point hiding it.
