Chapter Twelve #2
As she positioned the plants in the larger pot, she realized she needed another to fill in.
She wandered down the row to retrieve the exact greenery she needed to add appeal.
After she planted it, she spun the pot around, getting a feel for appearance and making sure every angle looked attractive. Lost in her task, her mind wandered.
It seemed possible that she had freaked out over nothing. The owner of the truck could be a visitor in the area—not unusual when the small town was a great stop-off for travelers on the interstate. The bed-and-breakfasts and the small motel outside town were always booked up with weekenders.
Well, the truck might be explained away…
But that plant was not.
Her phone buzzed with a text, and she shook the loose grains of soil from her hands to grab the device from the bench. When she saw the same unfamiliar number from before asking again if she would look at the job and give an estimate, her brows drew together.
She had texted the person and they never responded. Maybe they were crossing paths, or they weren’t receiving Fern’s replies.
But Crew and the Black Heart team would advise her to use caution.
She took a screenshot of the contact and sent it to Theo’s number. A minute later, it buzzed with his response.
Theo: Sit tight. Let me do some digging. Don’t answer them yet.
Fern: Okay.
She got back to work on the pot. When a familiar deep voice rang out across the greenhouse, her insides clutched, and she had a smile on her face before she turned to see Crew crossing the space to her with that sexy-as-sin swagger as he cut through rows of plants to reach her.
“Hey.” His eyes crinkled at the corners with the same happiness that must be on her face. “I was going to invite you to grab a coffee. I’m in town and hoped you might have a break soon.”
“Yes” rose to her tongue.
Then she looked back at the bench.
The shelf above it was empty.
Her breath stalled. She stepped closer, scanning the surface again as if the bracelet might materialize if she stared hard enough. Twine. Trays. Soil smudges.
No bracelet.
“Oh—” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “That sounds great. I just need to check something real quick.”
She turned back to the bench, fingers moving fast now, lifting trays, brushing soil aside, then crouching to check the floor. The pot she’d just finished stared back at her. No sign of the bracelet.
“I’ll meet you in half an hour,” she said, not looking at him. “If that’s okay.”
“Sure,” he said slowly but didn’t move from her side. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She shot to her feet, already walking away.
She found Marla near the succulents.
“Did you see my bracelet?” Fern fought to keep the worry from her voice. “I took it off at the bench to plant. I put it on the shelf.”
Marla shook her head. “No, I didn’t see it. Maybe it fell into the pot? Or on the floor?”
Fern nodded. “I’ll look again.” She turned back, dread settling heavy and cold in her stomach.
She searched again, slower now, hands careful as she sifted through soil, checked beneath the bench, inside the trash bin. The longer it took, the worse it got and pretty soon her hands were trembling.
Her chest tightened.
Not because it was jewelry.
Because it was Crew’s bracelet.
She straightened and nearly ran into Crew.
One look at her face and his expression changed.
Concern burned in his eyes. “Fern. What’s going on? You look like you’re about to cry.” He kept his voice low so no one could overhear.
The words struck full force. Chris’s voice came rushing back — careless, useless, you don’t know what it means to work for something. How he’d sneered when she lost anything, claiming it proved what he already believed about her.
She swallowed around a hot lump in her throat. “I can’t find the bracelet you made me.”
Crew didn’t hesitate. “Tell me.”
She shook her head, throat tight. “I took it off so I wouldn’t wreck it. I thought I put it on the shelf.” Her voice quavered despite her effort. “And now it’s gone.”
He brought his fingers around her arms, light but steadying. “Fern.”
She clenched her jaw, ashamed of how close she was to falling apart and how much she was shaking—would her body’s response ever go away?
“I’m sorry I didn’t take care of the bracelet. It’s gone because I didn’t—” Her breath hitched. “I didn’t treat it like it m-mattered.”
“That’s not true.”
“How do you know?” The question came out sharper than she meant.
“Because I saw your face when I put it on you. Your eyes lit up.” He leaned closer, brushing a kiss between her brows — brief, tender, devastating to her heart.
“I’ll make you another one, honey. It’s not a big deal.”
Her throat burned. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
She rested her hand on his chest, unable to meet his gaze but knowing he was being sweet and perfect—and she had things to work through. “I think I’ll take a raincheck on that coffee.”
He pressed his lips together, searching her eyes for a heartbeat. Before he could speak, she said, “I’ll meet you at the ranch after my shift. Is that all right?”
He gave her a small smile that told her that he was still worried about her reaction to misplacing the bracelet. But he nodded, dropped a tender kiss to her cheek and left.
She spent a few more minutes searching for the bracelet but finally gave up. She had a pot to deliver. More work to do before they closed for the day.
After she left work, she spotted one of the Black Heart Ranch trucks parked across the street. Her heart welled with affection for the Malones. They were giving her so much of their time and expected nothing in return.
A voice in the back of her mind whispered, You’re not worth it.
She stopped with her hand halfway to the car door handle. “Yes, I am worth it,” she murmured to herself with a flare of anger. She wasn’t going to let her ex get in her head or shatter the peace she’d managed to create here. She might still struggle sometimes, but she wasn’t giving up.
When she arrived at the ranch, Crew greeted her, and she went on tiptoe for his kiss.
“Did you find the bracelet?” he asked.
“Not yet. But I’ll keep looking.”
“It’s not worth you being upset over—even if it were made of diamonds.”
At that…she fell a little deeper.
The bonfire burned low, sparks snapping into the night. Fern stood near the edge while the women clustered together on one side of the circle, voices overlapping.
A few of the veterans called out greetings to her, and she smiled and waved at them.
She also spotted Upchurch seated on the far side of the fire, alone, just staring into the flames.
She didn’t want to interrupt whatever had him looking so serious, so she followed Crew to a long log that had been split and made into a bench.
But before she sat, a stunning brunette with a halo of short curls around her delicate face waved at her.
“Come join us!”
She slid her gaze to the rest of the women. She had met most of the ladies in the Malone family by now, but not all, and her inherent shyness made her pause.
Honor looked up with a grin. “This is Aspen. She’s such a sweetheart and the best sister-in-law-to-be. She’s Colt’s better half.”
Fern smiled at the woman. “Hi, Aspen. Thank you for the invitation, but I’m going to sit with Crew tonight if you don’t mind..”
Aspen gave her such a soft smile of understanding that Fern was touched, and she couldn’t help but like her.
Honor waved enthusiastically. “We’re doing wedding planning tomorrow. I’d love if you’d join us. I could use some input.”
Looking at the other women, Fern was pretty sure she had enough advisors. Still, she took a step toward them, refusing to let her past feelings—about herself or what others thought of her—stop her.
Honor smiled. “We were talking about flowers. Maybe you can give me some ideas.”
“Oh?”
Honor started spouting off colors and timelines. Then she tipped her head, studying Fern. “What do you say?”
“Okay.” Warmth spread through Fern’s chest—and then the realization hit.
They weren’t just being polite.
They were opening their circle.
She glanced across the fire to where Crew stood with the guys, laughing with Gray, easy and unguarded. They treated him like he belonged there. Like he always had.
Fern looked back at the flames, the sparks lifting into the dark.
Then she understood.
Maybe belonging didn’t come all at once. Maybe it came in moments like this—an invitation, a look held across a fire, the quiet certainty that there was room for her here.
She lifted her gaze again.
Crew caught it.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. He just held her stare, steady and sure, like this—them—was already real.
And for the first time, Fern let herself believe it might be.