Chapter One #2
When she came to the hardware store for towel hooks, she happened to pass a display of dry, shriveled-up houseplants. She couldn’t just leave them behind.
Giggling at her ridiculous snap decision to buy them all, she loaded her arms and hoped she didn’t drop any.
But if she had to drop them, at least it was at the feet of a hunky cowboy.
He scooped up both fallen pots, moving like a mountain might, slow and deliberate, with a restrained power that made her admire the broadest set of shoulders she’d ever seen. So broad that the gray T-shirt he wore stretched nearly threadbare in spots.
As he straightened, he caught her stare, his eyes the color of rich brown earth.
He set the plants on the counter and faced her again.
“No plant left behind.” Fern gave him an awkward little smile, then leaned in to say, “Thank you for your service.”
He didn’t laugh at her joke. From the corner of her eye, she saw the clerk grimace.
The cowboy just lifted his hand and touched the brim of his hat as a show of acceptance. Then he took his items and left.
Fern shuffled up to the counter and gently tilted the rest of the plants onto the surface.
The older clerk wearing a shirt with the name of the hardware store eyed her.
She offered a smile. “I hope you’re having a good day. It was nice of that guy to help me.”
One grizzled gray brow twitched upward. “You know he’s from the Black Heart Ranch.”
Did that mean the cowboy worked on the ranch? Or owned it? Maybe he was a bigwig in Willowbrook and she hadn’t been here long enough to know.
The man held up a pot with a wilted spider plant and gave it a dubious look before placing it in a shallow box. When Fern walked out carrying the box full of plants and the towel hooks she’d come for, the mountain breeze swirled her hair around her shoulders.
She didn’t grow up in the mountains, but she’d call it the best decision of her life to move here.
She had everything she needed—a cozy apartment that didn’t cost much, a simple life working in the greenhouse.
Recently, she’d started picking up odd landscaping jobs, which filled her soul in ways she never expected.
After loading her goodies into the back seat of her older SUV, she drove half a mile outside town to the greenhouse where she worked. Every time she drove into that parking lot and set eyes on all the flowers and green things, Fern felt as giddy as a kid on Christmas.
Though the day wasn’t overly hot, she left the car windows cracked to offer fresh air to the plants she intended to nurture back to health. When she entered the open door of the greenhouse, her boss, Marla, was elbow-deep in a potted palm.
“Find what you needed at the hardware store?” she called out.
Since it was watering time, Fern got straight to work. “Yes, and a few more rescues.”
Marla flashed a grin. “I should have warned you that the hardware store always gets a shipment of houseplants, then they let them wither.”
“I’ll make them green again in no time.” She picked up the hose and paused. “Marla, do you know about the Black Heart Ranch?”
She scooped a cup of soil and sprinkled it around the base of the palm. “Yeah, it’s at the base of the mountain. No one can get in there. They keep the gates locked tight.”
She pursed her lips as she drifted to the first row of geraniums and began to water them. “I ran into a man at the hardware store. I dropped a couple plants, and he picked them up for me. After he left, the clerk told me that he’s from the Black Heart Ranch.”
Marla’s hands stopped. She looked up at Fern.
At her boss’s expression, Fern’s stomach wobbled. “What is it?”
“The Black Heart’s a working ranch with cattle and horses. But there’s also a therapy program, a rehab for military veterans to help them through PTSD.”
Humiliation burned Fern’s face. Oh god. No plant left behind. Thank you for your service. Both statements referred to the military and she had tossed them out so callously. The poor cowboy probably thought she was a monster.
No wonder he’d looked at her that way.
She chewed on her bottom lip. Being new around town came with a learning curve she hadn’t expected.
Willowbrook was tiny compared to the large suburb she’d moved from. That place had shopping plazas, factories and two school districts.
Thinking of the schools made her stomach ache, so she pushed it out of her mind.
She watered the row of plants before looking at Marla. “Any way to avoid that in the future? Is there any way to know who a veteran is and who just works on the ranch?”
She shook her head. “No. Sorry. The guys who do come into town look like everyone else.”
The image of the cowboy popped into her mind. Tall. Muscular. His sinewy biceps made her think of mountain climbers clinging to rough terrain.
That particular cowboy from the Black Heart Ranch didn’t look like everyone else. He was way hotter than anyone she’d ever seen.
Her pulse kicked, heat sliding low in her belly before shame rushed in to smother it.
Not only had she made a fool of herself, her careless words may have even caused him more trauma.