Willow went to bed early but the bed felt too big. Also in the too big department was the house she and Shayne had bought when they’d moved back to Sunrise Cove. Too big and cold and . . . empty.
Why hadn’t she insisted Shayne recover from his accident here?
“You’re fine,” she muttered to herself from under three layers of blankets as she shoved her fifth consecutive mega-stuffed Oreo in her mouth and readjusted her beanie with the baby Yoda ears. She reached for her Sleepytime tea that might or might not have been laced with a tiny dollop of whiskey.
For medicinal purposes.
Normally, she’d call Luna, who’d come over with McDonald’s fries and shakes and they’d watch TV and laugh and talk.
But that would involve admitting she was wrong, and she wasn’t ready to do that.
Instead, she turned off the lights so she could wake up and be Head-in-Charge. Not of her life, of course. That didn’t feel possible. But the farm . . . that she could manage.
Only when morning came, she woke feeling . . . off. Probably the Oreos. But then again, she wasn’t a morning person. Some might argue she wasn’t a night person either, but whatever. She was who she was. And that person really missed waking up to Shayne in bed.
Because Shayne in bed was . . . magic.
But Shayne out of bed? When they weren’t naked and she could think past the pheromones and testosterone that leaked out of his pores, making her stupid . . . out of bed he was the man who’d dragged her around to fulfill his dreams while hers floundered.
It’s not all his fault. You don’t tell him what you need. You expect him to read your mind . . .
She’d dismissed the words when Luna had said them to her, but deep, deep down, she suspected Luna was right. Luckily she had zero time for self-reflection this morning. She was Head-in-Charge today, which brought her a rare early morning smile. Being Head-in-Charge would be as much fun as Shayne being in her bed.
Well, almost.
Hurrying through her morning routine, she was momentarily stymied by what to wear. When she worked in the gardens, she wore jeans and work boots—with sexy lingerie beneath because, well, a girl’s gotta feel good about herself, right? Standing in front of her closet in her favorite ivory lace satin bra and panty set, she eyed her clothes. Even though Luna wore jeans while being Head-in-Charge, Willow couldn’t do it.
So she wore her favorite peach sleeveless, belted pantsuit. She’d be cold, but the look was worth it because nothing said boss like looking like a boss. As she was heading to the offices to grab Luna’s daily planner, her phone rang. The way her body vibrated in sync with her phone’s vibration told her it was Shayne. “Are you okay?”
“One hundred percent,” he said.
She sagged in relief. “I don’t have time for a booty call. I’ve got a big day.”
“I’ve never asked you for a booty call.”
Because he sounded insulted, she sighed. “I know. It somehow just happens every time we see each other. What I meant was that I don’t have time to, you know, ‘see’ you.”
He chuckled, and the sound made her want to “see” him more than ever. “I just wanted to say kick ass today,” he said.
She smiled down at her new ankle boots. “Oh, I will.”
“And . . .”
Her heart stilled. Her smile dropped. “You said you were okay.”
“I am. I wanted to talk to you about something else. I—”
“You’re seeing someone.”
“No. Well, yes—”
“Who is she?” Her heart stopped. “If it’s Mandy, I’ll—”
“It’s you.” He was chuckling again. “I’m trying to see you, Wills. I’m trying to ask you out.”
“A date?”
“Yes.”
Do not melt. Do not melt. Do not melt. “Would this date include dinner?”
“It’ll include whatever you want it to include. Except for sex. We’re not doing that anymore.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” He paused. “I feel like I’m giving away the milk for free.”
She burst out laughing.
He did too. “I swear I have a point. And that is, if we’re doing it all the time, it makes it easy for you to not deal with your emotions. So you get back to me on when we can go out. I’ll text you my schedule so you know when I’m not working.”
Her insides instantly chilled, her reluctant affection turning to anger in a single beat. “Tell me you’re not back at work already.”
He sighed.
“Omigod, you’re back at work?” she cried.
“Light duty, of course. I’ve been cleared by my doctor, the department’s doctor, and HR to do paperwork and manage the guys. I’m good.”
“You almost died!”
“But I didn’t. Babe . . . this is what I do.”
“Piss me off? Yeah, and you’re good at it,” she said tightly, closing her eyes for a beat, seeing him so still and pale in that hospital bed. And that brought back why they were in this situation in the first place. He hadn’t been honest with her about the job. Clearly, he felt he had to manage her and her responses. All she wanted was him alive, dammit. Was that so wrong? “I gotta go.”
“Willow—”
She ended the call so hard she broke a nail, and now felt even worse. She strode into the farm’s office building and down the hall toward Luna’s office. Halfway there, she heard someone talking on a phone in the staff room. Poking her head in, she found Jameson at the table, which was covered in cans of baby formula and tins of oatmeal that had been donated to the farm for the rescue baby animals.
He’d eked out a tiny corner of the table, big enough for just his laptop. The chair was too small for him so his long legs were bent, his knees bumping up against the bottom of the table. His elbows were in close to his body to avoid toppling cans off the table as he hunted and pecked away on his keyboard.
She nearly smiled. Nearly, but not, because she didn’t feel good and she suspected she was hangry. “Why aren’t you using Luna’s desk today?”
“You’ll need it. It’s okay,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest. “I’m fine. I’ve worked with way less.”
She wondered what his life had been like, always on the move. Then she had to laugh because she knew exactly what it felt like since Shayne had moved her five times in the twelve years they’d been together.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Not funny, exactly.” She took a stack of cans near his elbow and put them on the counter next to the coffeepot, repeating that for his other elbow, giving him more room to work. “I just realized that maybe we have a lot in common.”
“You mean because the people in our lives think we’re emotionally bankrupt since we’re not open books?”
She choked out another laugh. “Um, no. I meant because neither of us has had much of a choice about moving around all the time.”
He shrugged. “I chose this life.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
He met her gaze, his own non-judging but frank. “But you sort of did, right? I mean, you chose to stay with your husband. We’re all in the driver’s seat of our own life.”
Well, hell. She felt that little kernel of wisdom hit her right between the eyes. How was it that someone she barely knew appeared to know her better than anyone? “Are you always this bluntly honest?”
“It serves no purpose to be anything but.”
She snorted. “You might have a point there.” She headed to Luna’s office, grabbed the day planner that Luna had told her she’d need, and then stared at a fat pad of notes labeled READ ME FIRST!
With a sigh, Willow sat, but no sooner had her butt hit the chair than her phone rang. It was Stella, who answered the farm’s phone, mostly because she was the nicest and had the most patience.
“Hey, honey. The electrician’s out at the barn. He’s got questions for Luna.”
“Electrician?” Willow asked, putting the notes aside and flipping through the planner. A meeting with Tony was listed. “Is it a guy named Tony?”
“Yeah, and he’s in a hurry. Sorry, gotta run!”
“But—” But nothing, because Stella had ended the call. Awesome. She rushed out to the barn, lugging the heavy planner. Shep looked relieved to see her, and it didn’t take a genius to see why. He was literally the pied piper with a line of ducks behind him, quacking.
“It’s feeding time,” he said apologetically, and bailed on her.
She turned to the man in overalls with a patch on a pec that read Tony’s Electrical. “Hi, how can I help you?”
He scowled. “You’re not Luna.”
“I am today.” She offered a hand. “I’m Willow.”
The guy sighed, took off his baseball cap and scratched his head before jamming it back on. “I’m supposed to be fixing some faulty wiring. I need to know if there’s been any sparks or rolling brownouts.”
Well, hell. She’d left the pad of notes back on Luna’s desk. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the answer to that off the top of my head, but I can go get Luna’s notes—”
“How about flickering or total outages?”
She squelched a grimace. “Again, I’m not sure, but—”
“Can you just call Luna? She’ll know.”
Damn. Willow pulled out her cell and hit Luna’s number. It went right to Luna’s voicemail, which said, “If you’re calling me from the farm, talk to Willow. She’s got everything you need. If she doesn’t, then improvise. If it’s an emergency, call 911. If this is Willow, then read the damn notes.”
Willow ground her back teeth. She would call Luna again over her dead body.
Looking resigned, Tony went hands on hips and looked down at his shoes for a long beat, either contemplating an existential crisis or trying to figure out if he could get away with strangling her. Her phone was buzzing in her pocket. “I’m sorry, I have to—”
“Just have Luna call me when you guys have your shit together,” the guy said, and then stalked off.
Willow was halfway back to the office when she almost plowed into Buddy, their favorite local carpenter, who always came to fix whatever needed fixing. “Hello,” she said. “What are you doing here today?”
“I’ve got a meeting with Luna.”
How many meetings does Luna take in one day?
“We’ve been going over the empty coffee shop, deciding what needs to be done for the new tenant coming in next month.”
Willow pulled out Luna’s thick day planner and flipped through to today. Sure enough, there was a meeting with Buddy listed. Beneath that it said: walk through space and get bid. “I can take you over to walk the space—”
“I know the space. I looked at the space already. Now I need to go over everything with Luna.”
“Can you leave the bid?”
“Nope. I sent her a few options, and I need to talk to her about them.”
“I’m sorry, she’s not here, but I’ve been left in charge—”
“We’re running tight on time. If you want this place finished before the tenant moves in, I need you to approve one of the three layouts I’ve got.”
“Uh . . .” Her phone rang, and grateful for the interruption, she held up a finger and answered her phone.
“I need you to come to my cabin right away!” Milo shouted in her ear. “But first call the plumber!”
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ve got a toilet leak and it’s a doozy. We’re talking brown trout swimming wild and free.”
Oh dear God. But at least there was a list of contacts in the planner. “What’s the plumber’s name?” she asked, running her finger down the list.
“I don’t remember. He’s on Luna’s contact list.”
“Okay, but I don’t know which one he is.”
“His name is Louis. I think. Call Luna and ask.”
“I’m not calling Luna! I’ve got this under control.” She ran back to the office, past a brows-up Jameson, and grabbed Luna’s notes. She skimmed through each of the eighteen pages of handwritten notes—front and back!—and found Louis on the very last freaking page. The note said:
Call Louis if you need a plumber. He’s grumpy AF and always says he doesn’t have time for us, but if you sweet-talk him, he will come.
Welp, Willow didn’t know if she had any sweet talk in her, but she called his number.
“The answer is no,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
She blinked. “Is this Louis? Louis the plumber?”
“Who’s asking?”
“This is Willow from Apple Ridge Farm. We’ve got a plumbing emergency—”
“You guys always have a plumbing emergency.”
Here was the thing. Willow spent all her time at the gardens. She rarely paid attention to the goings-on beyond her corner of the farm. She didn’t even really know why, other than she’d been very busy pouting over having to move back, asking Luna for this job in the first place, and the state of her marriage. “I don’t know about that,” she admitted. “I just know that we have a problem right now, and you’re Luna’s auto-call.”
“Tell Luna to lose my number.”
Sweet-talk him, Luna had said. So she drew a deep breath and smiled so that he might hear it in her voice. “Luna says you’re the best plumber on this side of the Sierras.”
He snorted. “I’m the best in the country.”
“Of course,” Willow said. “Luna tells everyone that you’re worth every penny, and no one knows how to fix our problems like you do. She says she’d never even consider going to another plumber . . .”
“You mean because none of the other plumbers will touch your place since the plumbing’s ancient and you guys can’t afford an entire renovation?”
Willow dropped her forehead to Luna’s desk. “Please? Pretty please?”
“No.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! You’re acting like this isn’t your chosen profession! Like we won’t pay you out the nose for your emergency services!”
“You want me there, then have Luna call. She’s better at sucking up than you are.” Disconnect.
“Dammit!”
Milo came running into the office looking deranged. “How do we turn off the water? When is the plumber coming?”
“I don’t know and he’s not.” Dear God. Had she really been green with jealousy over Luna being manager of this place, and even worse, 50 percent owner?
Milo groaned. “We’re screwed. Please call Luna?”
“I said I’ll handle it, and I’ll handle it!”
“Jeez,” Milo said. “Luna’s strict sometimes, but she never yells at us.”
Willow called Jeb. “Do you know how to turn off the water to, say, Milo’s cabin?”
“Yep.”
She waited for more info, but the line remained silent. “Jeb?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you turn off the water to Milo’s cabin?”
Disconnect.
Okay, she was going to assume that was a “yep” too. She then googled plumbers and started making calls. Eight plumbers in, she found someone willing to charge them an arm and a leg for a visit today. She ran to Milo’s cabin and dear God. She was helping him mop up when her phone fell into a suspiciously brown puddle.
“Oh shit,” Milo said.
Literally.
An hour later she’d welcomed the new plumber and was heading back to the office. She was completely done in and it wasn’t even noon yet. There were guests milling around, petting Kong and Miss Piggy, who were lying in a sunspot together looking adorable. She took a deep breath, which smelled like spring and pines and very faintly of the amazing scents coming from the Bright Spot. It should’ve made her mouth water, but for once she wasn’t hungry.
Stopping in the main square, she tilted her head skyward, wondering how to survive the rest of the day, but something about the way she moved her head had her entire world tilting on its axis. Suddenly so dizzy she couldn’t even see, she sat hard right there on the ground.
Jameson came running from the office building. “Hey, someone said you fell. Are you okay?”
Was she? She was still trying to decide when he crouched at her side and put a hand on her arm. “Willow? Should I call Shayne?”
“No!” She didn’t dare shake her head. “No,” she said more softly. “I’m just tired.” Exhausted, really. “Do you know what my husband needs to fall asleep? Like eight seconds and a very flat, old pillow. Do you know what I need to fall asleep? Four fluffy pillows minimum, a fan, a pitch-black room but with the door slightly cracked open so I can hear any monsters coming, three hours of mental checklists, and heart-racing anxiety. How is that fair?”
Jameson’s concern hadn’t faded. “Uh . . .”
“Oh, never mind.”
“Maybe you should come inside. I’ll get you a chair and some water—”
“No need, I’m totally fine.” More like stark raving mad, but whatever. She caught his hand in hers, the one reaching for his phone. “Don’t you dare call Shayne!”
“Willow—”
“I’ll fire you,” she warned.
He just looked at her.
“Right.” She sighed. “Okay, so I can’t fire you because I guess you’re my boss and all that, but I’m Head-in-Charge today, remember?”
Jameson studied her and rubbed his jaw—the universal tell for wary male. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but we all know you’re Head-in-Charge because you keep shouting it to the moon.”
She sighed again. “Are you trying to say I let the power go to my head?”
With a small smile, Jameson held up his thumb and index finger just a smidge apart.
“Oh God.” He was right. “I’m sorry! I just can’t seem to stop myself. I mean, how does Luna even do this crazy job?”
“I’ve got no idea. I think it’s that she’s a natural with people, whereas you and I are more comfortable behind the scenes, making things happen for her.”
“What do I make happen?” she asked miserably. “All I do is plant plants.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been researching everything about this place. I know what it was like before you, and after you. The gardens were struggling, but now they’re . . . stunning. Look around, you’ve planted pots and pots of flowers from the gardens and spread them throughout the Square, Stella’s barn, the entrance area, even the parking lot. You’ve brought color to the entire farm.”
“Well, I try,” she said. “But the baby goats and Kong keep eating the flowers right out of the planters.”
He smiled. “Regardless, you’ve created a gorgeous, colorful setting here like I’ve never seen anywhere else. And then there’s that extra thing you always do, the thing no one asks you to do but you do anyway. Like how you’re planning each quarter forward so that the colors are seasonally themed. Genius.”
She was surprised to find herself hanging on his every word. Maybe because the man was certainly no bullshitter, and he was also hard to impress. But probably because she was feeling extra pathetic today.
“Working here clearly makes you happy,” he said. “It shows in your work, and then it makes the people who come here happy as well.”
“Okay, and I appreciate you even noticing. But how about my skills as manager? Because that’s what I’ve always dreamed of doing, running the show.”
“But dreams change, right?”
She narrowed her eyes.
He shook his head like he was searching for words. “Look, it’s hard to say to yourself, ‘Hey, maybe that dream I had when I was younger isn’t the right dream for me now. Maybe my dream’s changed.’ Especially when you get—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “If you’re about to say ‘older,’ I swear I won’t be responsible for my actions. I’m only twenty-eight, you know.” She squelched a grimace. “Okay, fine. I’m thirty. Whatever.”
“You’re missing my point.”
She tossed up her hands. “I’m still waiting for your point!”
He laughed wryly. “Sometimes letting go of what you think your life should be, in order to accept what it actually is, can be . . .”
“Crushing?” she whispered. “Like the picture of the life you had in your brain doesn’t exist anymore?”
Eyes sympathetic, he nodded. “So you have to take stock around you and go, okay, what do I want to do now? What is actually the thing that’s going to make me happy?”
She’d always, always, envisioned herself as her own boss. But lately, and especially today, that dream was scooting over, making room for something else, something she wasn’t ready to put a name to. But the realization didn’t bring calm. If anything, it brought the very opposite, leaving her off-kilter because she couldn’t take any more upheaval at this point. She just couldn’t. “I really thought I was jealous of Luna. Because she’s got all this success, but . . .”
“But?” he asked, seemingly willing to sit on the ground with her in the middle of the Square, with guests milling around, for as long as she needed.
She drew in a deep breath. “You’re right,” she said softly. “My old dream is making me miserable.”
“Hand me your phone,” he said. “I’m going to put in my contact info so you can call me if there’re any more issues you need help with today.”
“My phone’s out of service.”
He looked surprised.
“I dropped it into a puddle of poop at Milo’s.”
Jameson appeared to try and hide his smile, but he failed. “I guess that would do it.”
Willow blew out a breath and put a hand to her belly, which was still upset. “It’s been a day.”
“I bet I can improve on it.”
“Only if you’ve got a private jet ready to fly me to a deserted South Pacific island.”
“Sorry, no,” he said on a laugh. “But a call came in right before I came out here. Better Homes & Gardens magazine wants to do a spread on your botanical gardens.”
Disbelief warred with excitement. “Better Homes & Gardens magazine?”
“Yep.”
“Like THE Better Homes & Gardens?”
He smiled and nodded.
“Better Homes & Gardens magazine,” she repeated again. “You swear?”
“I do.”
She opened her mouth to say something, and . . .
Threw up on Jameson’s shoes.
Mortified, she gasped out, “I’m so sorry!”
He gently patted her back while calmly making a call. “Can someone bring me a bottle of water and paper towels to the Square?”
Stella showed up less than two minutes later with the requested supplies. Jameson twisted the lid off the water for Willow. She expected him to use the paper towels for his shoes, but he handed those over as well. She wiped her mouth and mopped her sweaty forehead, overcome with humiliation. “I’m really so sorry.”
He shrugged, like shit happens. “Let’s get you home for the day.”
Here was the weird thing. She was feeling one hundred percent better. “I’m okay. Honest,” she said, while both Stella and Jameson just looked at her with concern. “But . . . Better Homes & Gardens?” she asked Jameson again.
He nodded.
She grinned. “Better Homes & Gardens,” she repeated, just to hear it again.
“Yes,” Jameson said warily. “Are you in shock? Are you going to throw up again?”
“No and no.” She reached for her phone to call Shayne before remembering two things. One, she had no phone. And two . . . she was still mad at him. She thought of Luna, but . . . well, they weren’t really talking yet either, and an emotion swamped her. She was pretty sure it was loneliness mixed with sorrow. Here she’d just had a huge milestone happen and she didn’t have her peeps to share it with.
She’d asked them both for time and space, and that’s exactly what she’d gotten.