While the stories are linked, each is a standalone. However, if you’ve missed any and want to read them, you can catch up here.
“That’s a brilliant flower,” Russ says as I slide soil around the ursinia.
“Ursinia anthemoides,” I say.
He grins. “Of course, it is.”
God, I love the sound of his accent, his smile, the way his blue eye light with mischief. But Angie is staying in his house. Angie, who hasn’t even let me know that she is here. And, why is that?
“It’s from South Africa. I don’t know why it hasn’t caught on more. It’s so pretty and heat and drought tolerant, so it’s perfect for here.”
He raises his palms. “Okay. I’m sold.”
I grin at him. “Good. Because this is the last flower I’m planting in your garden.”
“What? No zinnias?”
I raise an eyebrow at him, amazed that he remembered my love of zinnias.
Something changes in his eyes. Something I’d like to think is want, desire, but just may be hunger for lunch.
I swipe my palms on my jeans. “Okay, then. My work here is done.”
“Can I invite you in for some lunch?” he asks.
I glance toward his house, see a shadow behind the curtain of his kitchen. Angie.
“A raincheck?” I ask. “I’ve got an interview down on Main.”
My interview isn’t for a couple of hours, but he doesn’t need to know that anymore than I need to know what’s going on with him and Angie.
Sometimes I think we make life more complicated than it should be and for a split second I consider asking Russ what’s going on, but when my mouth opens, he’s already opening the door to his house. Maybe another time.