Felicia bolted upright at four in the morning. “Dear Lord. I can’t believe I forgot.” She shot out of bed, threw on her clothes, and with flashlight in hand, she walked the grounds.
In all the craziness of the filming, deliveries, planting, she’d forgotten about the floral arrangements for Ms. Horton to see today. The woman who’d done everything for her, including stopping in often to check on Nana when Felicia was out all day working.
Bugs of all shapes and sizes flew into the beam of light shining at the plants on the front walk. In her head she’d been working on these arrangements for weeks, but she hadn’t put them together. Now, she only had a few hours to get them ready.
She stumbled along the walkway, hunting for the good shears. Her toe connected with a metal bucket, sending it tumbling down the cement steps with a clang and a clatter of tools. Felicia froze and held her breath, willing her nana and Declan not to wake up, but it didn’t work.
Sergeant, Mack, and Troop all barked from the kennel. The light inside the camper flicked on, and rapid footsteps pounded. She scurried to pick up the tools and dropped the flashlight, which rolled down the steps, sending beams of light in all directions.
The door flew open and slammed against the side of the camper. “Who’s there?”
“Sorry, it’s me,” she shouted, thinking Declan would be pouncing on any intruder. The man was all protection and old-school gentleman when it came to women, even though he seemed to value them as equals.
“You all right? What’s going on?” He shuffled into the dimly lit front yard to her side.
“Nothing. I was trying to work, and I kicked over a bucket. Go back to bed.” Felicia found the bucket between the rose bushes and set it upright.
“Working? It's four something in the morning.” Declan knelt and retrieved some of the tools scattered around him.
The flashlight shone white across his body. The toned, well-developed, and tan body dressed in nothing but boxer shorts. Felicia dropped the hand shovel with the loudest clank she’d ever heard. She snatched it up and dropped it into the bucket. “Right. Um…yeah, I know.” She retrieved the shears, keeping her gaze carefully toward the ground. “Inspiration and all.”
“You’re inspired at this hour?”
She stole a sideways glance at the statue of perfection at her side. “Yep. You never know when and where inspiration will strike.” Great… She sounded breathless and wanting.
He caught her looking at him and smiled. A sexy smile that was like a shining exclamation point to all that was distracting about him.
She cleared her throat and shot up, only to hit her head on his chin and fall back, leaving them both rubbing their bruises. “Sorry.”
“No need to be.” He stood, adjusting the cuff of his boxers around his thighs, which only drew her attention for a second before she forced herself to move away and analyze the rose bush. “I’ll go put some clothes on. I wouldn’t normally greet you in this condition, but I thought there was someone breaking into your home. I came running without thinking.”
“I’m glad you did.” Heat flooded her face. “I mean, it’s good to know you’re here if anything ever did happen.” She forced her hand from her head despite the throbbing and attacked the stem of a rose with the wrong shears, only shredding it instead of a clean cut. “I better go find the right tool for this job.”
“Your favorite ones are on the workbench in the office. I hope you don’t mind, but I was a little bored last night, so I arranged your tools and put together the corkboard and hooks you had in the box next to the bench.”
“Oh, thanks. You don’t have to work after hours, though. Please, go back to sleep. Actually, take the morning off. I need to work on a project and deliver it to town, so I won’t need you before lunch.”
“I’d like to help if you don’t mind. As a friend, I mean. I can work later.” He backed away. “Let me go throw on some clothes. I’ll meet you in the office.”
“No. You don’t have to help,” she called after him, but he didn’t stop. Instead, the camper rocked with his weight entering, and then she saw him opening a drawer through the window. This time, she tore her gaze away and kept it on her work, fleeing to the office far from the distracting, half-dressed body of perfection.
To her amazement, he’d organized everything. Something she’d asked Lacey to do months ago. The boxes of tools were hung on the wall. Planters were cleaned and stacked. The floor was swept, and even the desk papers were organized. She retrieved the correct shears and headed outside, only to run smack into Declan’s hard chest. She backed away, but not before she caught a whiff of his woodsy, outdoorsman scent that had to be his deodorant—or he naturally smelled that good first thing in the morning.
“Where do we start?” he asked with a cheer in his voice she didn’t expect at this ungodly hour of the day.
“We need to cut the flowers and then bring them in here to put together into arrangements. I need to have a centerpiece, bridal bouquet, and one example of a bridesmaid bouquet. It’ll be a good enough sample to see what I have to offer. We’ll be choosing dark-color roses and I think light-color lilies as a contrast. I’ll also select some appropriate greenery and filler plants.”
“Sounds nice.” He went to the workbench and found another set of shears and a basket and then walked toward the front garden as if he knew what to do based on her instructions.
Lacey would’ve stood next to her and held the basket. She jogged to catch up to an eager Declan and settled by his side at the rose bushes.
“I think these would be perfect.” Declan pointed to the deep-colored flowers with wine and purple accents.
“Yes, they will be.” She analyzed the blooms with her flashlight and found a perfectly opened rose.
“Here, let me hold that for you so you can show me the proper way to cut one.” He covered her hand with his. His large fingers wrapped around in a comforting touch. She relinquished the light and forced a calming breath so she didn’t do anything stupid, like try to keep hold of him after he’d made it clear there would never be anything between them. It had been a long time since a man turned her head, but she wouldn’t go after someone who wasn’t interested. Although, she had a hint or two he was.
“You grab the stem halfway down; that way you leave enough leaves below so that a new flower will grow quicker than if you cut it too low.” She demonstrated and then handed the flower to him.
He inhaled a deep breath with the petals to his nose. She must’ve looked at him with a questioning look, because he placed the flower in the basket and said, “No better time to stop and smell the roses than in the early morning hours before your day begins.”
“How are you so optimistic, considering what you’ve been through over the last few years?” She cut another stem and passed it to him.
He placed the basket on the ground and pulled the shears from his pocket. “Those last few years were what made me appreciate today. There’s no better life than this.”
She shrugged, but apparently he didn’t like her response, because he set his shears and flower in the basket and took her by her shoulders. “Close your eyes.”
“What? No. I have work to do.” She didn’t sound too convincing, but how could she, with this man so close to her, distracting her from the task at hand?
“Humor me. I promise that I’ll help you finish before you have to take these.”
Somehow she doubted a man who looked like him, a protector and comforter type, would know how to arrange flowers, but if she wanted to get back to work, she needed to humor him. “Fine.” She closed her eyes.
“Now listen.”
She did as instructed, and she heard crickets chirping a song all around them. A distant howl from an animal. The soft tapping of the wind vane in the backyard. How had she not noticed them before now?
“What do you hear?”
“Insects, animals.”
“The song of the morning welcoming you,” he breathed. His warm breath grazed her cheek, and her body awoke. It no longer felt like the middle of the night but as if a vibrant sunrise crested the mountains.
For several seconds, she allowed herself to fall into this sensory world that soothed her into a state of relaxation she hadn’t felt in months. Her breathing quickened. The air brushed her nose and then lips. Her mind spun with possibilities.
“That’s why I love this moment. There’re no sounds of nature in the night when you live in a cell,” he whispered.
The way he said cell tugged at her heart, and she knew this man had suffered. And in that moment, she knew without a doubt. The Declan Mills who cut flowers, cooked dinner, and helped her nana eat could never and would never embezzle money for his own personal gain. “You’re innocent, aren’t you?”
He jerked and pulled away from her, but she grabbed hold of his forearms, staying his movement. “There’s no way a man like you ever committed a crime. I don’t care if you were convicted. You didn’t do it.” She swallowed the stump-sized lump in her throat. “Did you?”
He looked toward the twinkling stars, as if to find the right answer. “It doesn’t matter.” His hand grazed her cheek, and he looked at her with an intensity that made her squirm. “I am and always will be a convicted felon. Not a man worthy of a second thought from you. You deserve so much better. A life without complications and prejudice.”
She smiled inside and out and let out a snicker.
“What?” he asked, taking a step back as if to analyze further.
“Have you noticed what I look like? Complications and prejudice, I’ve lived with my entire life. You’ll have to do better than that to scare me away.” She picked up her shears and returned to work, feeling like she’d won a battle for now, but based on his slouched posture and downcast gaze, he fought an internal war that would either tear him apart and make him run, or he’d surrender to the possibilities of a future. A future that could include her.