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I hated it.
Why was this happening?
It was so rare for me to hate a wreath by the time I was done with it. A lot of the time the process of making a wreath had its ups and down, but normally in the end everything turned out well.
Not today.
This was the third today thing I had made that just did not have the flare or cohesiveness I was looking for.
Normally the pressure of knowing I was basically decorating the whole town didn’t affect me, but it sure was today.
I tossed the empty ribbon roll into the garbage and delved my fingers into my hair. “Fiddlesticks,” I growled. “Son of a beach.”
I needed to get out of my workroom and get some fresh air. My workroom was amazing, but if I spent too much time there, I missed the sun and fresh air.
My feet tread up the stairs and I grabbed a Coke out of the fridge. I popped a straw into the can and pushed open the old screen door. The door banged close behind me, and I sat in the white rocking chair in the corner.
The porch was my favorite place. Well, it was during the spring, summer, and fall. Winters were a bit too cold to be able to sit on the porch. In the winters I loved to sit in the old parlor with the fire roaring and a cup of hot chocolate in my hand.
For now, I was on my porch.
I leaned my head back and took a deep breath,
I had been wound tight the past few days, and it was all starting to catch up with me. I just needed to clear my head and stop stressing over everything.
The wreaths would get done. They would all look beautiful, too. Eventually.
And I just need to put Wilder Presley out of my mind.
It had been a week since my faceplant into Flo and Del’s bushes, and I could finally walk around town without everyone whispering behind my back.
Things were returning to normal, and I prayed they would stay that way.
I rocked gently back and forth and felt my stress leave my body.
“Shelby Lyn.”
My eyes snapped open, and I was face to face with Wilder Presley. So much for feeling at peace. “What in the heck are you doing here?” I spat.
“Well,” Wilder laughed. “Hello to you, too.”
“Hello,” I croaked. “What the heck are you doing here?” I repeated.
Wilder leaned against the porch railing. “Remember Flo told me I needed to get my deck decorated?”
I pasted a smile on my lips. “Porch. I like to call them porches.”
Wilder looked around mine. “Okay, whatever you want to call them, babe. I need you to decorate mine. Flo has already been by twice asking when you’ll be over.”
“You’re here because Flo is bullying you?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Flo and Del were the only ones who could badger and pester someone in their late twenties and get them to do what they wanted.
“Well, yes, but I won’t publicly admit that.”
“It’s happened to the best of us,” I laughed.
“Are you done working for the day? I didn’t want to disturb you when I walked up. It looked like you were taking a nap.” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Not at all. I just came out here for fresh air and to clear my head. Nothing seems to be going my way today.” And now that Wilder was on my porch, that rang even truer. I was out here trying to forget the man, and he just waltzed onto my porch.
“Anything I can help with?” he asked.
Pretty much the only thing that would help is if he would get off my porch. “Um, not really. I just need to get my groove going with the ribbon. I’m working on a wreath for the Briggs family. They want it to look like a turkey, and I just can’t get the shape right.”
“Do they want it to look like a cooked or alive turkey?” Wilder asked.
I tipped my head to the side. “Uh, well, I would say alive, but like a cartoon alive. If I make it look realistic, it might scare people more than seem inviting.”
“Good call, Shelby Lyn.” He nodded to the chair and table on the porch's other end. “You okay if I sit?”
Wilder Presley had always been so considerate. Anyone could sit on my deck with me, and most people never asked permission.
“Have at it.”
He sat in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. He crossed his legs at his ankles and rested his arm on the table. “You look good, Shelby Lyn.”
Five words I had always longed to hear. Hell, after nine years, Wilder just saying my name was music to my ears.
This man not only says my name, but then he tells me I look good—Shew lord.
“You look, too,” I croaked. He always did; I bet that wasn’t the first time he had heard that.
“I look, too?” Wilder laughed. “I think you might be missing a few words, honey.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “You look good, too,” I corrected. “Not only are my wreaths not turning out, but I also can’t talk properly.” Wanting to disappear into thin air seemed to be a normal thing when Wilder was around.
Wilder laughed and watched the traffic drive by. “You always said you were going to own this house.”
I had.
Something always called to me whenever I would drive by the place, and when it finally went on the market, I had to make it my own.
It had everything I needed and more. There was more than enough space for me, but I also had space if I was ever married or had kids.
Both things seemed less and less likely as the years went by.
“I worked hard, and I was finally able to make it my own. Well,” I laughed, “the bank and I own it.”
“I’d be even more impressed if you owned this free and clear.”
“One day,” I sighed. “What about you? You live over on Hancock now?” Hancock and all the roads north were the new part of Adams. It was like you were still in town, but the lots were much bigger, and most had barns and white fences.
They were filled with families who had moved from bigger cities and wanted to enjoy a slower pace of life. They were the new Adams.
“Yeah, I got lucky. I didn’t even look at it in person before I put an offer on it.” He chuckled. “Well, my mom went and looked at it for me. She told me I was stupid if I didn’t put an offer on it.”
“That was nice of her. I’ve met her a couple of times.” I tipped my head to the side. “And I can see her telling you that.”
“Is she one of your customers?”
A smile crossed my lips. “Yeah, though she normally just buys two wreaths from me at the annual craft fair in November. She doesn’t have me hang them or anything.” It was pretty awesome to say who my customers were—one of the perks of small-town living.
“That’s because my dad is more than capable of hanging them. Gives him something to do, I’m sure.” He chuckled softly. “And I’m sure she has him move it ten times before she liked where it is.”
“She would fit in just fine with the rest of my customers. I don’t think I have more than a handful who are happy with the first placement. Yesterday I was hanging Flo and Del’s, and they decided they needed one more wreath and two boughs.”
“That happens often?”
I shook my head. “People ordering more after I already made them something? No. Del and Flo are a different breed. I swear they have a slush fund for wreaths and boughs.”
“I guess you get to be that way when you’re almost ninety.”
“Crazy and zany?” I giggled. “I look forward to the day I get to act like them, and no one can say anything about it.”
“You got about fifty years before that can happen, Shelby Lyn. And something tells me you won’t be living with your sister.”
I cocked my eyebrow. “Because I don’t have one?”
“Well, yeah,” he laughed.
“Good assumption,” I giggled.
“How did you get into wreaths?” he asked. “When I left town, you were looking at going to school to be a vet.”
I smiled softly. “I went to school, but it only lasted about three months before I realized I not only had to help the cute little animals, but I also needed to be the one there when they couldn’t be helped. I had too soft of a heart not to be a blubbering mess even when talking about hypothetical situations.”
“I’m sorry. I bet that was a hard thing to realize.”
It was, but I was glad I realized it before I wasted years of my life only to do something else. “Yeah, it was, but it helped me find wreaths. I had been working at the local vet as a receptionist, and after one of the patients passed away, I grabbed some ribbon, wire, and circle foam from the craft store because I wanted to do something nice for them.”
“You walked right into your future without even knowing it.”
“Yeah,” I laughed, “I guess you could say that. Though that first wreath, I would not claim now. I have thankfully honed my craft and improved over time.”
“Oh, come on,” Wilder laughed. “It couldn’t have been that bad if you were able to start a business and eventually decorate the whole town.”
“That is exaggerating a bit. I don’t decorate the whole town.”
Wilder looked around. “Uh, yeah, I think you do. I counted at least thirty wreaths on the way over my house. I’m sure there were some boughs in there too, but I still don’t know what the hell those are.”
I nodded to the railing on my porch. “It’s that. Just a wreath, but not circular. They’re a little easier to make but take about the same time.”
“That’s kind of what my mom said.”
“You talked to your mom about my wreaths and boughs?” I asked.
Wilder shrugged. “I was having breakfast with her the other day, and your name came up.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. “If my name came up because I fell into Flo and Del’s bushes, please don’t tell me.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Oh my god,” I groaned. “Missy had told me the town was talking about me, but I was hoping not everyone was.”
“It’s not that bad,” Wilder laughed. “The wind changes direction around here, and people talk about it.”
“The local wreath maker falls into the bushes, and they still talk about it a week later.” I covered my eyes with my hand. “I’m going to need to go into the witness protection program. I’m surprised it didn’t make the local newspaper.” Hell, it still might. The paper came out bi-weekly and was due on my porch in two days.
“It wasn’t that bad, Shelby Lyn. You just lost your footing, and I helped you.”
“Oh, Wilder. I can tell you forgot what it’s like in Adams. People gossip because there isn’t much else to do around here.”
“Then maybe they need something more to do.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Are you going to be the man to give them that?”
He shrugged. “Possibly. I have a few ideas of things I’d like to do.”
“You have more than piqued my interest.” Word around town was that Wilder had become an executive at a company that designed and planned amusement parks. Was he thinking of bringing an amusement park to Adams? As much as the town needed some livening up, I didn’t think an amusement park fit us.
“I’m keeping my cards close to my chest for the time being,” he chuckled. “I did a bit of research before I moved, but I need to do a lot more before I make any decision. Heck, I might chalk the whole idea and just get a job at Chicken Biscuit.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Though,” I pointed at Wilder, “Missy will tell you there are unexpected perks when you work there.”
“Free chicken?” he laughed.
“Well, I’m sure that, but she also said when she is wi–.” My words died on my tongue. I was about to tell Wilder he would smell like chicken all of the time, even when he would be having, uh, relations.
“When she what?” Wilder asked. “I didn’t know she worked at Chicken Biscuit.”
I cleared my throat and looked down. “She doesn’t.”
“Then how does she know anything about working at Chicken Biscuit?”
Oh god. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? “Oh, uh, well, she is casually seeing Charlie.”
“And?” Wilder drawled.
“I think maybe you should ask Missy the next time you see her. I don’t want to talk about something I don’t really know about.”
“Now, you are the one who has piqued my interest.”
Oh god. I sprung up from my chair and moved to the door. “Well, I really need to get back to work. I need to get that wreath into shape and two more done before I can call it a day.”
Wilder laughed and shook his head. “I don’t mean to keep you from your work.”
“You’re not. Well, you are, but it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” Good gravy. I needed to shut my mouth. “Bye.”
“Wait,” Wilder chuckled. “Can we set up a time for you to visit my house and discuss decorating it?”
“We don’t have to. I don’t want you to get a wreath from me just because Flo and Del bullied you into it.” I needed any business I could get, but I didn’t want Wilder getting something from me out of pity.
“I will admit that Del and Flo are intimidating, but I can promise you I can hold my own with them if it came down to it. I was on my porch the other morning having my coffee and thought it could use something. Make it more inviting.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Wilder stood and stepped toward me. “I never ask for something I don’t want, Shelby Lyn.”
His words rolled over me. “Okay,” I croaked.
“Is there a time that works best for you?”
He took two more steps toward me, and I stepped back. I bumped into the rocking chair and managed to steady myself before I landed on my face in front of him again.
“Easy,” he whispered. He reached out and wrapped his hand around my arm. “I seem to keep knocking you off of your feet, Shelby Lyn.”
I gulped. “Uh, or I’m just a klutz.”
I could tell he didn’t believe that for a second.
“Why don’t we test that theory? How does Saturday night sound?”
I blinked rapidly. “Uh, what?” We were talking about me being a klutz, right?
“What are you doing Saturday night? I know you are really busy, but I do want you to come over and look at my deck.” He cleared his throat. “Porch.”
“Yes, yes, your porch,” I muttered. “Uh, I guess I can come over Saturday. After dinner?”
Wilder shook his head. “Before, and then you can stay for dinner.”
He wanted me to come over for dinner? “It really won’t take long to look at your deck, uh, I mean porch. Fifteen minutes tops.”
“Good.” Wilder pulled his keys from his pocket. “That will leave us more time for dinner.” He walked down the porch steps.
“Wilder,” I called.
He turned on his heel and looked up at me. “Yes, Shelby Lyn?”
Dammit, why did he have to say my name like that? It was like velvet wrapping around me each time. “We don’t have to do dinner.”
He smiled softly. “Yeah, I think we do. We have a lot to talk about.” He turned and raised his hand over his head. “I’ll see you Saturday around five o’clock, Shelby Lyn.”
“O-o-kay,” I stuttered.
I watched him climb into his truck and pull away from the curb with a wave of his hand.
Wilder Presley wanted to have dinner with me Saturday night, and even though I had given him every opportunity to change his mind, he hadn’t.
Holy. Cow.
*
