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.

“Even if I wanted to write another book like Blue Moon, I wouldn’t have a clue how to do it.” He forced the words out. “It was a fluke, Laney. That was proved when the next two books tanked. And unless this new one is a hit, everyone will know the truth. That I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Silence danced between them, broken only by the nearby branches catching in the breeze. He finally looked up, half expecting her eyes to have narrowed in rage. She had every right to be pissed. But her mouth was twisted into a thoughtful line, and her eyes were pale against the bright sky. Almost like she felt sorry for him.

“I didn’t know you felt like that.”

That’s because he never told anyone.

So why did I?

Because I’m sick of pretending. It’s exhausting.

“I know you don’t owe me anything, but I’d prefer if you kept it to yourself.”

“Of course,” she said, her steady gaze still holding his. “And Adam, it’s okay to feel like a fraud. Everyone feels like that from time to time. Especially when you’re creating something out of nothing. It’s not always meant to be easy.”

He stiffened. Creating something out of nothing. How did she know that’s what it felt like? He opened his mouth but shut it again, not sure how to even word the question. Instead, he gave her a grateful nod as they reached a crop of rocks, half hidden under the long grass. She pushed the cart, and it tilted sideways. He shot out a hand to steady it.

Mistake.

Their hands grazed, and simmering electricity ran up his arm.

Her eyes widened, and the space between them crackled. Suddenly, the woods disappeared, the sky dissolved, and it was just the two of them. The rise and fall of her breath created a small valley of glistening skin at the hollow of her throat. His eyes went lower, and his fingers twitched to push back the straps of her sundress.

Longing swept through him, and he leaned toward her. Her eyes caught his, the blood pounding in his temples.

It was broken by the shrill ring of her phone.

The air snapped between them, and color rose in her cheeks. She fumbled through the leather satchel on the cart. Were her hands shaking?

“Hey, India.” She answered the call in a breathy voice, her shoulder turned toward him. “I’m on Beckett Hill getting the steeplebush and foliage. I’m not far off. You go and have fun. See you tomorrow.” When she turned back to him, her mouth was set in a firm line. “I need to get back to the store.”

“Sure,” he said in a light voice, heat still pulsing through him.

Snap out of it.

She thought he was something on the bottom of her work boot. And he was wearing jogging shorts, which didn’t hide much.

Hell. He only slept with women who actually liked him. It was a sensible survival mechanism. So, wanting someone who most clearly didn’t want him was lunacy.

Now he just needed to get his body to listen to his brain.

He dug his nails into the fleshy part of his palm. A tiny stab of pain shot up his arm, and the heat slowly retreated as if being sucked out like a vacuum.

Everything’s fine here, folks. Nothing to see.

“A-are you all right?” she said, her voice concerned.

“Yup.” He gave a quick nod. Leaving would be a good idea right now. He’d promised to stay out of her way. Having sexy thoughts about her wasn’t going to help with anything. “I’d better finish my run.”

“I’ll see you around.” She blinked as if the lights had just been turned off.

“Yeah,” he said and turned in the other direction. This time, he wasn’t stopping until he was too tired to think about what the hell had just happened.