Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
florence
Our list
· Download Pinterest app ?
· Ask Quinn how Pinterest works ?
· Redecorate office for my favorite employee ?
· Enroll in business management classes ?
· Take my girl on a date
First date jitters are normal.
This is anything but normal.
Dex waits for me by the hood of his truck, wearing a nervous smile. Thankfully, his casual wardrobe matches my leggings and hooded sweatshirt.
“Hello.” I approach him slowly, nervous for reasons beyond me. We’re well past the first date stage. As always, he’s going out of his way to bring me a little drop of joy.
I jump out of my skin when he offers me his hand.
“Hi, my name's Dexter.” He winks, but other than that, his tone is dead serious. “I’m thirty-five, I own a construction company that specializes in log cabins, though on occasions, beautiful women mistake me for a lumberjack. Oh, I’m also a Cancer Sun, Taurus Rising—whatever that means.”
Giggling like an eighth grader, I shake his hand, not correcting that he’s a Taurus Sun, Cancer Rising. “Florence, nice to meet you. Twenty-four. Personal assistant. Scorpio Sun, Aquarius Rising.”
“Ah, perfect match.” I try not to laugh at his complete lack of knowledge about astrology and nod along. “Florence is a pretty name. Did you know it translates to flourish or blossom in Latin?”
“I do now.” With his rough skin on mine, I relax.
He checks his watch then ushers me to the passenger door. Wildfire ignites my skin at the simple touch. Right before I climb in, I turn, foot on the running board so our eyes are level. “This isn’t necessary.”
His gaze softens. “It is.”
“But why? You know almost everything about me. We don’t need to date.” I stare at him.
He tilts his head. “Exactly. Almost everything. I want to know all there is to learn about Florence Abigail Sadler.”
I fake a gasp, hand clutched to my chest. “I never told you my middle name. Stalker.”
He huffs a laugh. “Get in the truck, Trouble.”
Hearing him use that nickname for the first time in days is music to my ears. I glow the entire drive.
After a short drive, we pull up in the parking lot of Shirley’s, the sun sinking below the horizon. I’m about to tease him for bringing me to a bar for our first date when I notice the large white sheet pinned to the side of the brick building and the bright lights coming from the projector.
Arm slung over the back of the bench, he reverses in front of it and cuts the engine.
The night is better than anything I could’ve imagined.
We watch The Princess Bride with subtitles, cozied up under a blanket.
Through the entire movie, Dex holds my hand, nothing more.
And when he walks me to the front door of the A-frame, he doesn’t drop the gentleman act.
Thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans, he stands at the bottom of the steps. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Florence.”
I’m glowing head to toe. “Thank you, Dexter.”
He lets out a content sigh and breaks the act. “Business classes, huh?”
My cheeks scorch under the late July moon. He saw my additions to the list. “I’m not even sure I want to go to college, but it can’t hurt.”
“I’m fucking proud of you.” His smile is so big, the overgrown hairs on his top lip must tickle his nose. “Anyway, long drive home. I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“Good night,” I say, smiling.
I didn’t think my cheeks could ache more until his steps pause, words confident.
“You’re beautiful. I love you.”
Heart beating erratically, I go inside. Then, realization hits me.
Item number eight: Watch a movie at a drive-thru theater.
Children scream with excitement, squirting one another with water pistols. They’re not concerned with the small ceremony going on in front of the large, red-stained cabin. I’m distracted too. My eyes are on the humble man standing at the side of the stage, hard hat tucked under his big bicep.
Four days have passed since our date. During working hours, Dex is so professional, it’s almost comical. And torturous. I want his hands on me, to kiss him senseless every time the day ends and he says, “You’re beautiful. I love you” before walking away.
This afternoon, before we left for the opening ceremony, I found the notebook on my desk with two new additions in it.
· Visit Harvest Homestead
· Arrange follow-up appointment with ENT
He wouldn’t tell me what the first one meant.
He’s admitted to not arranging regular appointments with his doctor and his dismissal of alternative treatments.
To Dex, ignorance was easier.
We’re both guilty of putting things off until they became impossible to ignore.
After we’re done here, we’re visiting the homestead. What for remains a secret.
Sarah walks onto the makeshift stage, smiling at the small crowd, and speaks into the microphone.
“As a child who spent almost seven years in the care system, I know what it’s like to feel you don’t belong, the constant ‘why not me?’ as you watch friends find homes.
I found my family at eleven years old, but those years prior, I wished I had a place to call home, even if temporary.
” She raises a hand, gesturing to the village of cabins.
“That’s why we’re here, at Pine Haven, a year-round camp for children of all ages currently in the foster care system.
It’s where I hope kids can come to escape their worries, make lifelong connections, and learn that no matter where they end up, there’s always a home for them here. ”
A wave of applause echoes through the open space, bouncing off the two dozen cabins dotted through the trees. Today, the camp opens, a huge project that Dex and the team spent months grueling over.
Sarah smiles gratefully, palms up to quiet the crowd.
“This didn’t happen overnight, and it wouldn’t have been possible without the obscene generosity, craftsmanship, and dedication of the team at Moore Lumber.
He’s going to hate me for this, but I’d like to invite the man behind it all to the stage. Dexter Moore, get over here.”
Dex’s grunt is audible from my spot at the front, and he narrows his eyes at me when I wolf whistle.
Standing beside Sarah, he begrudgingly accepts the microphone. “This wasn’t in the script.”
Everyone laughs.
“When Sarah contacted me, wanting to hire us for the job, it was an easy decision. We all deserve somewhere to call home. Maine is that to me, and to know an extraordinary camp like this is on my doorstep makes this place extra special.” His gaze falls to his boots when a roar of applause erupts, and he discreetly hands the mic back to Sarah.
“As talented as he and his team are, there’s one individual who kept them all in check, who I’ve gotten to know over the past few months through endless emails, videos, and phone calls.
She’s probably sick of me, and I have it on good authority she’s owed a lot of overtime.
Everyone, please join me in thanking Florence Sadler. ”
My jaw unhinges.
Roughly fifty pairs of eyes turn my way. The loudest round of applause comes from the stage. Two baseball mitt-sized hands pound together.
That’s my girl, Dex mouths.
It’s completely foreign, this ache in my chest, working its way down my arms and legs.
It takes me a moment to recognize the emotion. While attention falls to Sarah as she cuts the ribbon, my vision blurs.
Pride.
For Dex, his team and their achievements, for the beautiful sanctuary Sarah created.
For myself.
Crisp air fills my lungs. Eyes closed, head tilted back, I smile at the clouds.
I’m proud of myself.
“You’re seriously not going to tell me where we’re going?” I poke Dex in his bicep. “Also, why are you in such a thick flannel? It’s ninety degrees.”
He grunts from behind the wheel, eyes hidden by his sunglasses. “I’m getting into character.”
I snort. “Finally admitting you are a lumberjack?”
“If it makes you happy.” He chuckles.
Through the passenger’s side window are jagged bluffs and sparkling blue ocean. On Dex’s, bluets, daisies, and buttercups dance along the grassy verge. Splashes of purple zip by.
“Oh! Asters.” I point out the patches of my favorite flower.
The truck slows then bounces as Dex carefully swerves left.
I grip the edge of the seat. “What are you doing?”
Crisp air filters into the cab as he lowers the window. One hand firmly on the wheel, he reaches out into the thorns and sharp reeds. I gape at him until the truck comes to a stop and he presents his hand to me.
Bent at odd angles, the violet petals shine vibrantly against the yellow center. I bring the stems to my nose, inhaling the citrusy, slightly spicy perfume. “You didn’t need to do that.”
Eyes on the road, he scrubs a hand over his stubble. “Yeah. I did.”
By the time we reach the homestead, I’m one sweet gesture away from climbing this beautiful, selfless man like a tree.
“Is this a zoo?” I ignore my ever increasing libido.
We drove south for an hour until farmland replaced the coastline.
Blueberry, wheat, and corn fields roll along the horizon.
A bright red barn sits in the center of a meadow, surrounded by white-picket fences, pastures, and wooden huts to house the animals.
Sheep baa, cockerels crow, and horses neigh.
It’s all very Old McDonald and adorable.
His head rocks left and right. “Of sorts.”
“You’re being very secretive.”
“You’re being very nosey,” he volleys.
We walk up a gravel path, and he throws an arm over my shoulders. “You remember Barry?”
“Of course!” I wave my tattoo in his face.
He stares at my wrist, as if in trance, before facing forward. “Harvest Homestead is his wife’s place. They take in and rehab injured farm animals, and if they’re able to, they re-home them. This was actually the first non-profit Moore Lumber worked with.”
A curvy woman appears from the barn and waves.
“Dex!” she greets, wrapping him in a hug. “Barry told me you were paying us a visit. Are you looking for another goat?”
“Not today. Those two pricks are a handful enough as it is.” He laughs. “Cassandra, this is Florence. Florence, this is Cassandra, Barry’s wife.”
We shake hands.
Cassandra nudges Dex in the ribs. “So, what brings you two out here?”
I should’ve spotted Dex’s scheming a mile away. They both stare at me expectedly for a good minute until it clicks.
“No!” I gasp.