Love in Bloom

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

E very bump Dan hit with the pickup truck made me wince in pain. My hand, while being cradled in my lap, began to grow hot and sting.

“During my first week on the farm, I had no clue what I was doing,” Dan began, obviously reminiscing as he drove with a soft smile on his face. “But you couldn’t tell me that. I was going to turn the opportunity your granddad gave me into a new life in the States. I was desperate to prove myself.”

“So what happened?” I asked, since I could tell Dan was trying to take my mind off the pain with the story.

“What happened was I lied to Ernesto about knowing how to use a nail gun. I’d used a staple gun before—how different could they be?” He shot a quick glance at me before returning his gaze to the road.

“The answer is: very different. Ten minutes after I was handed that nail gun, I found myself screaming bloody murder with my hand attached to a barn. I passed out. When I came to, I was in Dr. Westlake’s office with Ernesto and your granddad laughing their arses off. The entire town’s been taking the mickey ever since.”

I couldn’t help laughing, even though I was still in a lot of pain. When he’d reached the part of the story where he fainted from the sight of his hand nailed to a building, I was feeling slightly more optimistic about my situation. At least I never lost consciousness.

Mercifully, when we got to the clinic, the doctor could see me right away. It was a relief because, in addition to being in an incredible amount of pain, there was a goat tied up outside, and I didn’t think I was in any position to question the presence of livestock in a doctor’s office. At least not while I was potentially bleeding to death.

“Well, I knew I’d meet you eventually.” The doctor was a middle-aged white woman wearing a white coat and stethoscope over a pair of faded overalls. “I’m sorry it’s under these conditions. Anita Westlake, town doctor.” She held out her hand to shake and I shot her an incredulous look. “I need to see your hand if I’m going to fix you up.”

I shook my head, letting out a nervous chuckle. “I am so sorry, of course.” I held out my hand, and Dr. Westlake gingerly began to unwrap the bandages. She let out a long, low whistle. “Wow. This is a doozy. But I’ve seen worse.” She tossed the bloody gauze into the trash and began to pull medical supplies out of a nearby cabinet. “Isn’t that right, Dan?” She tossed a mischievous smirk over her shoulder to the handsome man leaning against the wall. “At least I won’t have to use my smelling salts this time.”

I looked at Dan to find him grinning. He caught me looking at him and gave me a wink.

“Your receptionist didn’t ask me for my insurance card. How much will this cost me?”

Dr. Westlake smiled and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “For George and Harriet’s granddaughter? Nothing.”

She picked up a large tablet and began scribbling on the screen with a stylus. I shot a confused look at Dan, and he answered with a shrug. First the mechanic, now the doctor. My curiosity about my grandparents’ celebrity status in town only deepened, but I was pulled out of my thoughts by the doctor’s voice.

“Okay Emmaline, have you had a tetanus shot in the last five years?”

My stomach tightened. “I’d actually prefer Emma. No, I’ve never gotten a tetanus shot. Is it really necessary?”

“Only if you don’t want to get lockjaw.” She smiled and approached the exam table with two large needles in her hands. My eyes widened in fear.

“The first one is to numb your hand so she can stitch you up.” Dan whispered to me, leaning in and patting my leg. He must have seen the anxiety scrawled across my features. “The second one is the tetanus shot.”

“Wisdom comes from experience.” Dr. Westlake smirked at Dan as she continued to prep.

“Plus, my dad’s a doctor. Our flat was the unofficial neighborhood clinic for minor injuries and ailments. People would just show up at the door and my father would never turn anyone away.” He let out a small chuckle.

“Did your dad want you to become a doctor, too?” I asked, grateful to have a distraction from the growing number of gleaming steel instruments accumulating on the small tray next to the table.

“Did he?” Dan let out an incredulous laugh. “He still does, though he’s not as bad as my mum. Once my brother graduated from medical school, he eased up.”

“You have a brother?” I hoped I wasn’t being too invasive with my questioning, but the more I learned about Dan, the more I wanted to know about him.

“Yeah, my younger brother, Sanjeet. He’s getting married in a couple months. He’ll soon be everything my parents wanted in a son, but not as handsome.” He shot me a wink.

“Did you ever want to become a doctor?”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’ve always preferred plants above people. I did study chemistry at university, but horticulture was always my first love.”

“So what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you a horticulturist?”

“I am. That’s why your grandfather hired me. He was looking for a plant specialist.”

“But I thought the farm was mostly animals.” At least that’s what it felt like yesterday. My grandparents’ farm had pigs, horses, goats, chickens, ducks, cows, and sheep, not to mention the critters I encountered that didn’t constitute livestock. I shuddered at the memory. But if Dan was a college-educated horticulturist who my grandparents basically put in charge of the farm, why weren’t there more crops? Something felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Well, it’s a pretty big farm, Emma,” he responded, not meeting my eye. “And I do my most important work in the greenhouse.”

“Where’s the greenhouse?”

“It’s on the far side of the property. It’s not visible from the house. If you want, I can take you there later.”

“I’d like that.”

“All done!” My head snapped in the direction of Dr. Westlake’s voice before I looked down at my hand. There was a thin horizontal line about two inches long across my palm, held together with ten tiny knots of black thread.

“How? I didn’t even feel it.” I shook my head in disbelief.

“Well, you were otherwise engaged.” She shot me a knowing wink before swabbing a shiny cream on the cut. “As far as distractions go, you could do a lot worse.”

“Oh, it’s not what you think,” I quickly stammered. “I… uh… I have a boyfriend.”

“Really?” she asked with a hint of skepticism. “Where is he?”

“He’s back in Atlanta. He’s a very busy attorney, and he’s considering making a run for the Georgia State Senate.” I had no idea why I was suddenly word vomiting, or why I didn’t want to look at Dan while I did it. Regardless of the state of my and Teddy’s relationship, it was still a relationship, wasn’t it? Even if I wasn’t being completely honest with Dr. Westlake, and myself, my life was complicated enough without overbearing, sarcastic, and infuriatingly sexy horticulturists with British accents complicating it more. Apparently, Dr. Westlake didn’t agree and wasn’t afraid to express it.

“A lawyer and a politician?” She gave me a look of pity and clucked her tongue while shaking her head. “That’s a shame. You and Dan would make a great couple.”

“Thanks, Dr. W, but I’m not looking for a relationship,” Dan chimed in.

“Everyone says that until they find one.” She shrugged. “Okay, Emmaline—excuse me, Emma—it’s time for the tetanus. I need your arm.”

With Dan’s help, I carefully removed my farm jacket, my flannel, the top of my coveralls, and the long-sleeve, moisture-wicking work shirt I was wearing, leaving me in a sweat-soaked undershirt.

“My goodness,” Dr. Westlake said and let out a low whistle. “You were certainly prepared.”

“Yes, Roberta at the Feed ’n’ Farm was very helpful.”

“Oh, I bet she was.” She shot Dan an amused, knowing look. “I’ll bet she saw you coming a mile away.”

Dr. Westlake just confirmed my suspicions about the owner’s insistence on helping me while I maxed out my Visa, which made me feel even more foolish.

“So why is there a goat tied up outside?” I asked to steer the conversation away from me overpaying for farm gear and still managing to injure myself.

“That’s Frisbee,” she responded and held up a large needle filled with pale liquid. “He’s my next patient.”

“I’m sorry,” I spluttered. “Did you say your next pati—ow!”

“I can’t believe you took me to the town vet!” I punched Dan in the arm after we’d stepped onto Main Street.

“I didn’t!” He laughed, rubbing his bicep. “She is the town doctor. In case it’s escaped your notice, this is a very small town.” He waved his arm to encompass the entirety of Main Street. He was making a very valid point. The street, both ends of which were visible, was lined with small shops, and none of the buildings were more than three stories. It also explained why everyone seemed to know exactly who I was, which brought to mind my conversation with Erica’s daughter.

“Why does everyone in town hate me?” I asked in a low whisper. Working in PR for so many years had meant learning all the choreography to the very precarious dance of making tough decisions while managing to stay in everyone’s good graces, mastering the art of compromise while making sure I—and my client—came out on top. At the root of it was a very deep—like, Mariana Trench deep—sense of insecurity. Every level of success comes with its requisite number of haters, but in every situation, I was in control.

If someone didn’t like me, I knew exactly why. So this instance of being kept in the dark was driving me nuts. My therapist might have said that my people-pleasing tendencies stemmed from my strained relationship with my mother, but it’s those insecurities that had made me so good at my job that I could afford to pay her exorbitant fees with top-notch health insurance and a fifty-dollar co-pay. Still, this out-of-control feeling was eating me alive. Since Dan and I seemed to have formed an uneasy rapport between the time he found me bleeding and Frisbee’s annual physical, I took a chance.

“Emma.” He stopped midstride and turned to face me, making me stop, too. “No one hates you.”

“Melissa, the diner owner’s daughter, said everyone in town is talking about me and how I would ruin the town if I sold the farm.”

Dan’s eyes widened in shock. He certainly hadn’t expected me to know this. His fingers dragged through his beard before he reached up and ran his palm over the silky black hair covering his scalp, which had grown significantly in only two days.

“Well…” He let out a sigh. “That’s not far off.”

“How would me selling the farm ruin the town?”

Another long pause. This time, he rubbed his palm over the back of his neck.

“This town is a very special place,” he began cautiously. “And the farm is a very big part of what makes it special. Everyone here is connected like a family, and we depend on each other. Change is a scary prospect in most instances, but in this one, it’s a matter of life and…” He stopped himself and my brow furrowed in confusion. Was he about to say death? “A lot depends on the farm. Everyone’s just nervous because you hold a lot of people’s futures in your hands, and we know almost nothing about you.”

“I guess that makes sense,” I conceded. “But I still have no idea whether or not I want to sell, and my main reason for coming here was to learn more about this place, my grandparents, my past…”

“Well, maybe we can solve two problems at once.” Dan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and guided me down the street.

“I’m listening…”

Dan guided me two blocks away to a bakery called Four and Twenty Blackbirds. For a small town, it was bustling with people strolling in and out of the small businesses lining the main street. There were people of all ethnicities and families of all sizes. They were so different, but there was something that seemed to connect them, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. One thing that stood out to me, from a PR standpoint, was that every storefront featured wide entrances and ramps. Perhaps the accessibility was what made it such a draw? I was pulled out of my thoughts by a voice once we entered the bakery.

“Hey! Dan the Man!” a man warmly greeted him before coming around the counter. They clasped hands and pulled each other into a one-armed hug, the man clapping Dan’s back a few times. He did a double take when he noticed me and shot Dan a knowing grin. “What brings you in today?”

“Rufus”—Dan placed a possessive hand on the small of my back, which made me shiver in a good way—“this is Emma Walters—”

“Harriet and George’s granddaughter!” He grinned. “We all know who you are.”

“Emma, this is Rufus, Mavis’s grandson. Mavis opened this bakery not long after your grandparents began their farm.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He reached out and shook my good hand.

“I was hoping for one… or two”—he tipped his head at me—“of your gran’s blueberry muffins.”

“Is that Dan?” a woman’s voice called from behind the closed kitchen door.

“Yeah, Gramma,” Rufus called back. “And apparently, it’s a two-muffin day.” He looked at me again, his face still beaming. I felt like an awkward junior high schooler on a date.

“Hmm.” Mavis emerged from the kitchen, dusting off an apron covered in flour. “Georgie and Harry’s granddaughter is that bad, huh?” Not yet looking over at us, she raised an eyebrow in the universal expression of mothers that signifies, Don’t try to tell me what I already know . I’ve been on the receiving end of that eyebrow for as long as I can remember. Then she picked her head up and noticed me standing next to Dan. The look of shock on her face was so cartoonish, I had to stifle a laugh.

“Mavis, this is Emma, George and Harriet’s granddaughter. Emma, this is Mavis, the best baker in town,” Dan blurted out. Rufus and Mavis exchanged a look.

I pasted on my best Atlanta debutante smile and stepped forward with my hand outstretched. Smoothing over awkward situations was one of my specialties.

“Mavis, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, dear. I’m so sorry about what I said, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, no worries, ma’am.” I let out a small chuckle. “That’s actually why we’re here. I want to learn more about my grandparents and their life here. Dan”—I placed a hand on his bicep and felt the muscles tense under my palm, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Mavis—“thought I would benefit from meeting some of the people in town and showing them that I’m not that bad .”

Mavis laughed and pulled two blueberry muffins out of the display case. “You remind me so much of your mother. You even look like her, too. Everybody is just on edge is all, with the Kings leaving us so suddenly. We’re still recovering from that, and things are so uncertain, especially when it concerns the farm .” She put a special emphasis on the last words. “So how are you doin’, sweetheart? What do you think your plans are?”

“I’m not exactly sure.” I sank into a chair and Mavis sat opposite me. Dan settled into the chair next to me. Rufus returned to his work behind the counter, but he seemed very intent on participating in this conversation. While enjoying the best blueberry muffin I’d ever eaten, I told Mavis about showing up at the farm in the middle of the night, my “leave of absence” from work, my intent to work on the farm, and wanting to learn as much as I possibly could about my grandparents. I left out the parts about seeing Dan in his underwear, our surprising chemistry, and the fact that my intuition whispered that there was something more to the town’s connection to the farm than I was being told.

“Well, that’s understandable, dear. What would you like to know?”

“Well, everything, I guess.” I sighed and took a bite of my muffin. Mavis and Dan exchanged a wary look.

“Are you all right, sweetheart? You look a little pale.” Mavis leaned forward and pressed the back of her hand against my cheek.

“I’ve had a long morning.” I let out a weak chuckle. Once the adrenaline and endorphins of my injury had worn off, combined with the painkillers Dr. Westlake gave me before we left her office, the day was catching up with me. Plus, despite stripping down to the long-sleeve T-shirt, I was still baking in all the layers of clothes I was wearing. “Could you tell me where the restroom is? I wanna splash some cold water on my face.”

“All the way to the back and to the left.” Rufus pointed from behind the counter.

The cold water helped, but what I really needed was a nap. Determined to hold it together long enough for Mavis to tell me at least one story about my grandparents, I gave myself another bathroom-mirror pep talk and pulled the door open.

“You’d better tell her,” Mavis said. Her words made me stop short. They had to have been talking about me. “You don’t want her to find out on her own. Get ahead of it.”

Tell me what? Get ahead of what?

Almost thirty years of home training taught me that eavesdropping on conversations wasn’t polite, but seven years of public relations taught me that there was no such thing as too much information, especially if that information is about you.

“I know that’s right,” Rufus called from behind the counter. “Women always find out.”

“What do you know about women?” Leonard, whom I immediately recognized from the bathroom the night of the will reading, emerged from the back of the bakery wearing a Bob Marley T-shirt and a battered leather messenger bag. I leaned back into the doorway of the bathroom and closed the door a little more, hoping he didn’t notice me as he passed. “You’re still wet behind the ears, boy.” He chuckled and bent over to give Mavis a kiss, while doing something with one of his hands that made her jump in her chair and giggle.

“Ugh, come on, Pop Pop.” Rufus wrinkled his nose. “Aren’t you too old for that? This is a business.” He shook his head before adding, “And I’m twenty-two. I know plenty about women.” He ducked back behind the counter.

“He’s right, though, kid,” Leonard directed at Dan and chuckled, still rubbing Mavis’s shoulder. “Women always know more than they let on.” His wife slapped his thigh with the back of her hand and gave him a sardonic look. “And based on what I saw of her… and it was a lot”—that comment earned him another slap from Mavis and made my cheeks flame with heat—“you’d better watch out. Once a woman like that gets under your skin, you’re stuck… ask me how I know.” He tilted his head at Mavis and waggled his eyebrows.

“You old fool,” Mavis said with an almost girlish smile as her husband leaned down to give her a PG-13 kiss that made Rufus suck his teeth.

“If you two keep this up, I’m going back to campus early.” He walked away to help a customer who’d entered the bakery.

There was something simultaneously heartwarming and foreign about watching Leonard and Mavis be so blissfully attracted to each other after so many years together. My parents’ marriage was so cold and distant. I don’t think I ever saw them hold hands, much less kiss. Teddy hated kissing in public, unless it was an opportunity for him to sell what everyone assumed to be our picture-perfect relationship. I wondered if Dan was affectionate. All current evidence pointed to yes, considering the way he’d treated me the past few days. I realized that I quickly had to derail that train of thought.

“Where are you off to, honey?” Mavis asked Leonard, while Dan reached over and broke off a large piece of my muffin.

“I’m headed to the bank and making a few deliveries in town.” He patted his messenger bag. “Then I’m gonna swing by the hospital.”

“Oh, nice.” Mavis smiled. “Tell Dr. Yang I said hello.”

“I always do, sweet cakes.” He patted her shoulder. “Also, Dan, that last batch of George of the Jungle was the truth. I’m gonna need some more of that… you know, for my glaucoma.” He winked.

What the hell was George of the Jungle?

“I thought it was for your arthritis,” Dan joked, scraping his muffin crumbs into a little pile on his plate. He reached over to my plate and broke off another even larger piece of my muffin, and it almost made me rush out of my spying perch to stop him.

“The Making Whoopie Pies are for my arthritis.” He smiled. “You oughtta try one.”

“‘Don’t get high on your own supply,’ Leonard,” Dan joked.

Did Dan just quote Scarface ? It was a weird comment to make about baked goods. Whoopie pies are good, but not that good.

“Well, then how would I know it’s quality?”

“Fair point,” Dan conceded. “The George of the Jungle should be ready in a few weeks. I’m trying out some new lights to speed up the growth phase without compromising the quality. So far, so good.”

“Well, we’re running low on Annie’s Green Gables. So you’ll need to get that to me ASAP,” Mavis interjected. “I swear the demand just keeps going up. It’s good for business, but it makes me nervous. Word is spreading, and that’s good, but we still need to be careful.”

“Sorry, Mavis.” Dan sighed. “I didn’t used to handle distribution. I’m still figuring things out, but I’ll look into it.”

“Baby”—she put her copper-toned hand over his—“I know you’re doing the best you can. This is stressful for all of us. We all loved George and Harriet. They saved my life… in more ways than one.” Leonard leaned down and kissed her head. “Don’t wear yourself out. Have faith that everything is going to work out.”

My head was swimming when I stumbled out of the bathroom. While keenly aware that I knew nothing about Dan’s job on the farm, the conversation I overheard set my intuition on fire. Naivety wasn’t one of my personality traits. The words high , growth phase , and distribution meant something, but it couldn’t possibly have meant what I thought it did. The thoughts that were spinning around my head were absolutely insane. So insane that I wouldn’t bring myself to say them out loud.

“Emma?” Dan stood when I emerged from the bathroom, feeling worse than I did when I went inside. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I think I need to lie down. I’m so sorry, Mavis.”

“Don’t apologize, baby.” With a sympathetic smile, she patted my cheek. “You just get some rest. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

I gave her a weak nod and allowed Dan to lead me to the door of the bakery.

“Wait!” I called out, flinging my arm into Dan’s chest to stop him.

“What?” he asked in alarm. “Are you okay?”

“Can we get some of those muffins to go?” I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth and made my eyes big.

He let out a relieved chuckle and shook his head.

“Of course.”

After a quiet, relaxing ride back to the farm in Dan’s truck, with the wind blowing on my face and two and a half blueberry muffins in my belly, I was feeling better. At least I was feeling better physically. The conversation I overheard in the bakery was still rattling around in my head, growing louder and louder with each revolution.

When we reached the house, the sun was still out. My curiosity and suspicion were too insatiable to ignore, so I reminded Dan of his offer to take me to the greenhouse. He must have forgotten about it because he cycled through about five different facial expressions while I carefully studied his face before he agreed. A small measure of relief joined my curiosity. If there was something suspicious going on, why would he agree to take me to the greenhouse?

After helping me climb into a vehicle that was a cross between an ATV and a golf cart, Dan drove us to a remote corner of the farm. Two hundred fifty acres was considered small for a family farm, but it felt like he was taking me to another world. The house and barn were no longer visible when I looked over my shoulder, and the flat land that was a combination of dirt and grass gave way to a heavily wooded area, dense with trees. Dan drove the vehicle through a small rocky stream, splashing the bottom of my coveralls and making me squeal in surprise. His arm tightened around my waist, bringing me closer to him, enveloping me in the warmth of his embrace and his delicious scent. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky beautiful shades of purple, orange, and gold. Fireflies danced in the field as a tractor rumbled by, making me feel like I was traveling through a dream.

“I had no idea there was so… much,” I said in an awestruck whisper.

I looked over at Dan to find him gazing at me in a way that made my heart race, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away.

“It really is beautiful, innit?” he whispered, his brown eyes still locked on mine. I only smiled in response because I wasn’t sure he was talking about the farm. The ATV hit another large bump, making me squeal in surprise again. Dan rested his hand on my knee to calm me, and before I could give common sense a second to ruin this moment, I covered his hand with my own and squeezed.

He never acknowledged the fact that we were holding hands, which we definitely still were. He simply began talking about the farm and his role in it. Dan was the farm’s manager, so he oversaw everything that happened on the farm. Ernesto was his second-in-command, and primarily dealt with anything related to the animals. The farm was a no-kill farm. They occasionally sold livestock to other farms, and they produced dairy products and wool from the sheep. Dan explained that his parents are very devout Hindus, and he could never feel comfortable working in a profession that was cruel to animals. But even greater than his compassion for animals was his love for plants. As I listened to Dan talk, I realized how much I loved listening to him talk about his passions. It may have a little something to do with his accent, but his love for plants and my grandparents’ farm felt so pure and joyful that it spread warmth through my chest.

“All right, Emma?” Dan’s voice broke me out of a trance. We were stopped in front of a large glass structure that was easily recognizable as a greenhouse, but it was the biggest one I’d ever seen.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I responded. “Why?”

“You were staring at me.” He quirked an eyebrow and his mustache twitched into a smile.

“No, I wasn’t,” I stammered. I definitely was. “So this is the greenhouse.” I changed the subject and released Dan’s hand.

“This is the greenhouse,” he agreed. “Shall we?”

The structure seemed even bigger on the inside, with rows and rows of different types of plants that seemed to go on forever. The interior of the greenhouse was warm and humid, with a familiar earthy and floral smell. The moment I recognized it, my belly did a little flip. The greenhouse smelled like Dan. Or did Dan smell like the greenhouse? Whichever it was, I wanted to live in this smell forever. If Glade had made a Dan-scented air freshener, I’d have been their best customer.

Best of all, nothing in the greenhouse looked suspicious. Dan seemed happy and relaxed. There were rows and rows of gorgeous plants and flowers.

“These are my babies.” He gestured to a rosebush with crimson-colored blooms before gently caressing a petal of one of the largest flowers.

“So how exactly did you fall in love with plants?” I asked.

“That’s a long story, love,” he said with a sigh before snipping a bud off the bush and holding it out for me to smell.

“Give me the SparkNotes version?” I leaned forward and pressed my nose into the soft petals and inhaled. The scent immediately made my chest expand and my eyes flutter closed. I didn’t have the words to describe it, but if Diptyque were to make a Dan’s Roses–scented candle, I would max out another one of my credit cards.

“Lovely, innit?” he asked. I opened my eyes to find him gazing at me. I could only nod as he pressed the stem of the rose into my hand. My senses were overloaded. Between the deep, accented timbre of Dan’s voice, the scent of the roses, and the warmth of his fingers gently caressing mine as he handed me the rose, I felt like I was drunk. I noticed too late that Dan’s lips were moving.

“Emma?” He tilted his head slightly. “Did you hear me?”

“No, I’m sorry,” I confessed. “I was distracted by how beautiful this rose is.”

“Really?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes. Really.” I grinned before pulling the rose toward my nose. “What did you say? Ow!” I dropped the rose and stuck my newly impaled fingertip into my mouth.

“I told you to watch out for the thorns.” He smirked as I pulled the finger out of my mouth to inspect it. It still stung, but it wasn’t bleeding. “I think you’ll be all right. We can give Dr. Westlake a full day before we show up again.”

“Ha. Ha,” I deadpanned. “Tell me how you fell in love with plants?” I said to change the subject and because I really wanted to know.

“Well”—he bent down and picked up my discarded rose before using a pair of gardening snips to clip off the thorns as he spoke—“I was born in Mumbai. When I was five, my parents and I moved to London. My mum was pregnant with Sanjeet, so I was still an only child at the time. I was never the most outgoing bloke, and I had a hard time making friends. I actually don’t mind solitude.” He shrugged before handing me the newly Emma-proofed rose. “Every day for years on my walk home from school, I would pass an old woman working on the plants in her front garden. Even when it was nippy out, she’d be all bundled up, tending to her plants.” He slipped his hand into mine and gently guided me down the rows as he continued his story.

“So one day, I plucked up the courage to ask her what she was doing.” He chuckled a little bit. “She started talking, and I couldn’t understand a word she was saying.”

“Did she not speak English?” I asked.

“Oh, she did.” He nodded, still smiling. “But with a very thick Jamaican accent. Finally, she got frustrated and started yelling, ‘fuhwad, boi!’” Dan said the last two words in a surprisingly good Caribbean accent. “Over and over again, ‘fuhwad, boi!’ I was clueless. After a few moments, I realized that she wanted me to come into the garden. When I did, she handed me a pair of gloves, had me squat beside her, and began teaching me about plants.”

“You just went into some strange old lady’s yard because she told you to?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you ever read ‘Hansel and Gretel’?” He chuckled in response.

“Hey, I learned quickly that when Alice tells you to do something, you listen. Plus, she was a sweet old bird and an amazing cook. For years, I had to eat two dinners because I couldn’t tell my mum that the nice old lady up the road had just fed me jerk chicken.”

“What?” I let out a dramatic gasp. “You had to eat two dinners made by amazing cooks? How did you survive? Does Oprah know about this?” He narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head as I smirked at him.

“Anyway,” he continued, “from about age ten until I went away to university, I’d spend almost every afternoon at Alice’s, learning about plants. As the years went on, I was able to teach her a few things about plants, too, since I was better at using the internet.”

“How did your parents feel about you spending so much time with Alice?”

“They didn’t mind it, but I think they felt a bit better about it when I made some friends my own age.” He let out a sigh and stroked my cheek with the back of his index finger, making my heart flutter. “Plus, my mum loved to tell her friends that her son got top marks at school and volunteered with the elderly.” He smiled.

“So where is Alice now? Still in her garden?”

“No.” He sighed. “Sadly, she passed away about five years ago.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry.”

“She lived a long, full life. She cultivated my love for plants, especially roses. She even lived long enough to have a rose named after her.”

“What?” I stopped. “How?” Dan walked me a few steps and stopped in front of a rosebush with bright yellow blooms.

“This is the Duchess Alice rose. It was my master’s thesis.”

“Brilliant,” I whispered. “So a part of her lives on forever.”

“That was the idea.” He smiled down at me.

“So you actually created a rose? How does that work exactly?”

“You want the SparkNotes version?”

“I’ll take any version you want to give me.”

He paused for a moment before chuckling. “You basically breed different roses together until they develop the traits you desire.”

“Like genetic engineering?”

“Exactly like genetic engineering.” He nodded.

“So you’re like a mad scientist, but with roses?”

“I don’t know about the mad part, but the rest is accurate.”

“What are you working on now, Dr. Frankenstein?”

“What if it’s top secret?”

“What if I pinky swear not to tell anybody?”

“Since you’ve managed to injure both of your hands in the last twelve hours, I’ll forgo the pinky swear and just trust you.” I rolled my eyes and giggled as he pulled me deeper into the greenhouse. “I’m currently working on a hybrid that would be more accessible to the average grower.”

“What about the below-average grower?” I joked.

“Them too.” He smiled at me.

“Are roses really that hard to take care of?” I asked before lifting my rose to smell it again.

“Oh, yes.” He reached out and caressed one of the blooms. “Roses can be very temperamental and require a lot of hard work to maintain.” He shot me a sarcastic look, clearly indicating my prickly first impression. “But the joy they bring, the beauty they spread, the way they make you feel every time you look at them or hold one in your hands”—he shot me a wistful smile—“that makes them well worth the effort.”

I’d spent my career working with corporate titans, movie stars, and athletes, but Danesh Pednekar was by far the most fascinating person I’d ever met. He didn’t spend his days dreaming about hostile takeovers or winning Oscars; his deepest desire in life was to help people bring a little more beauty into theirs. The idea was so refreshing and wonderfully unique that it made me tear up. It also made Dan infinitely more attractive, which I wouldn’t have thought was possible.

“Emma?” he asked. “You look a little sad.”

“No,” I said, “far from it. That’s just so touching. I’m just so used to people being self-centered and greedy in their aspirations. It’s rare to encounter someone who genuinely wants to help people.”

“Well”—Dan reached out and brushed the lone tear racing down my cheek away with his thumb, flooding my body with heat—“I am planning to sell the roses once I’ve got it worked out, so I’m not completely altruistic. That fancy tea you love isn’t cheap.” He smiled down at me and something in his gaze shifted, making my heart race. His large palm was still resting on my cheek. “Maybe you need to encounter better people.” He lifted his other hand and was cradling my cheeks in his palms. He took the smallest step closer to me, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body, intensified by the warmth and humidity of the greenhouse.

“Dan?” I whispered.

“Yes, Emma?” he responded, his face inches from mine.

“Are you about to kiss me?”

“Well, that was my plan.” He smiled but he didn’t back away. “Would that be all right with you?”

“Yes, that would be extremely all right. Very, very all right.”

Dan let out a small chuckle. His breath smelled like blueberry muffins.

“But I should tell you something first.”

“Shit.” He blinked and leaned away. “You have a boyfriend. I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” I pulled him close to me again with the hand that wasn’t bandaged. “That’s what I want to tell you. I… don’t have a boyfriend.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion.

“I did. I didn’t make him up, but we broke up… the day I came to the farm.”

Dan’s expression became pensive, and he nodded his head.

“I also didn’t take a leave of absence from my job… I was fired.”

“The same day?” His brows shot up his forehead in surprise, and I nodded. “Bloody hell.”

“I wanted to tell you this now, before anything happens between us, because I didn’t want you to think that this is some kind of knee-jerk reaction that doesn’t mean anything, or that you’re a rebound. You’re kind and thoughtful and so passionate about things that are important—real things, things that matter. You barely know me, and you’ve been more generous to me than…” My voice trailed off and I tried to refocus, but the words were tumbling out of my mouth faster than I could organize them into coherent thoughts. “I just wanted you to know that I see you. I mean, I really see you. I see what everyone in this town sees in you, what my grandparents must have seen in you, and—”

“Emma?”

“—I never want—”

“Emma,” Dan repeated, his lips curled into a smile.

“Yes?”

Dan reached down, tucked his finger under my chin, and tipped my face up until our eyes met again. “Is it all right if I kiss you now, or did you want to keep telling me how great I am? Because either one works for me.” He raised an eyebrow, still smiling. A cross between a snort and a chuckle erupted from my chest before I carefully wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed myself up onto my toes, just as his mouth covered mine.

Danesh Pednekar was a great cook. He was a gifted horticulturist. But as a kisser, Dan was pure magic. No kiss in my life had ever felt like this. Parts of my body that hadn’t tingled in months were on fire. I wasn’t sure if kissing him felt so good because he was so gorgeous, or because he smelled so good. Maybe I was still high from the painkillers. Plus, the fact that Dan tasted like blueberry muffins didn’t hurt, either. His lips were soft and welcoming but with an undercurrent of furious desire that made me wonder what he was holding back from me.

I parted our lips and whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I’m feeling pretty fucking fantastic, love.” He rubbed his nose over mine with a grin. “Are you okay? How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t say pretty fucking fantastic, but good.” Dan chuckled and kissed me again. “Why are you being so careful with me?”

He pulled back with a confused look.

“I’m sorry? Careful?”

“I mean, you’re kissing me like I’m going to shatter into pieces.”

“I’m not sure where I would have gotten that idea.” He held up my bandaged hand and quirked an eyebrow. “How should I be, if not careful with you?”

“Maybe I’m like your roses,” I whispered, dragging my lips across his. “Maybe I’m tougher than I look.”

“I have no doubt about that, Emma.” He pressed our bodies closer, his pupils widening into dark pools of lust.

“Then why don’t you show me?” I said in a husky whisper and tightened my arms around his neck.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered before grabbing me under my thighs to scoop me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and kissing the hell out of me as he staggered through the row of vegetables and flowers, taking us deeper into the greenhouse. Finally, he deposited me onto an empty spot on one of the long wooden tables and pressed himself between my legs.

“What’s that?” I asked as I felt his calloused fingertips ghosting along the hem of my tank top.

“I thought that would be obvious, darling,” he said with a chuckle and pressed his hips further into the junction of my thighs. The thought of being able to investigate the very large and incredibly solid appendage that Dan was pressing between my legs was almost enough to distract me from what I was looking at, if it hadn’t immediately flooded my head with the conversation I overheard at the bakery. “Emma?”

“I already know what that is.” I gave him a sultry smirk. “I meant that.” I turned his face to see what had caught my eye. It was a large steel door with a keypad instead of a doorknob. Everything else on this farm—hell, in this town—looked like it was straight out of the 1970s, but in the back of this huge greenhouse, hidden in the woods, was the sort of door I’d only seen in the panic rooms of my highest-profile clients.

“That”—Dan’s heart raced against my chest—“is a door.” He smiled at me and waggled his eyebrows. I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes at him. He kissed me with a chuckle. “That room is filled with fertilizer and farm equipment.”

“You need a military-grade security door for farm equipment and fertilizer?” I asked skeptically.

“Well”—he sighed and kissed my neck, eliciting an involuntary moan—“farm equipment is very expensive, and fertilizer can be used for more than growing crops. It’s a security concern.” He painted my collarbone with his tongue.

“Can I see?” I was trying very hard to shift my focus away from Dan’s thumb brushing my breast as his lips moved to lavish the other side of my throat with attention.

“No,” he whispered and stood, pressing our foreheads together.

“No?” I repeated. “Why not? I’m the official owner of this farm, remember? Shouldn’t I be able to see everything that goes on here?” I swatted his hand away and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him.

“Of course you should.” He smiled at me and stroked my cheek. “But not tonight.” I opened my mouth to protest again, but he cut me off before I could speak. “It’s late. You’re healing. Plus, you’re not properly dressed. Once you open that door, the smell will cling to you like a wet blanket. You think you smelled bad yesterday—”

“Wait, you could smell me yesterday?”

He answered my question with a quick kiss on the lips. “That’s nothing compared to the stench a few tons of fertilizer can produce. I’m taking you home—back to the house,” he quickly corrected himself. “I’m gonna make you another sandwich with a pot of tea and one of Dr. Westlake’s magic pills, then you’re going to bed.”

“But—”

“This is not up for discussion.” Dan leaned forward and, in one fluid motion, tossed me over his shoulder and marched us out of the greenhouse. My curiosity about what lay behind that door only grew larger as I watched it disappear behind rows of plants.

The sandwich took care of my hunger, and thanks to Dr. Westlake’s painkiller my hand was no longer throbbing. A long, hot shower took care of the gross, sticky feeling from wearing too many clothes all day. It also helped me, with an assist from my noninjured hand, douse any lingering flames from my intense greenhouse make-out session with Dan. The only thing left keeping me from a well-earned night of sleep was the door.

That damned door was burned into my memory. Something was incredibly off about this farm, this town, and most of all, Dan. My instincts, which were hardly ever wrong, told me that the answers to all of my questions were behind that door. Over an hour had passed since I’d heard Dan’s footsteps pass my bedroom on the way to his apartment upstairs, so I figured the coast was clear.

I jumped out of bed fully dressed and tiptoed downstairs with my shoes in one hand and the ring of farm keys clutched in my other palm, like a teenager breaking curfew, before slipping out the back door. After deciding the ATV would make too much noise—and let’s face it, with my luck, I’d probably crash it into a tree—I started to jog in the direction of the greenhouse. Thirty minutes later, according to the cleanest smartwatch in Georgia, I’d made it. I slipped the key out of my pocket and unlocked the door. I wondered a second too late if there was a burglar alarm installed, but there were no flashing lights and no high-pitched trilling of an alarm. I wasted no time in making my way to the security door and smoothing my palm against the cold metal surface. I stared at the keypad, realizing that I had no plan for how to open this thing. The first thing I needed to figure out was how long the password was. I pressed the number one and the lock beeped and a green light flashed. I pressed three more. More green lights, indicating that the password was more than four digits. I pressed two more and got the red light I was anticipating.

So the code was six digits. Maybe a birthday?

I typed in Dan’s birthday. I caught a glimpse of his driver’s license when he insisted on paying Mavis for the blueberry muffins. It wasn’t his birthday.

I typed in my grandfather’s birthday, then my grandmother’s. No luck.

The code probably wasn’t even a birthday. It could be any combination of numbers and letters. It could take me days to figure it out, maybe even weeks.

As a joke, I typed in my birthday and got the outcome I’d expected. When I was just about to turn and go back to the house, an absurd idea popped into my head. What if the code was Annie’s birthday? Her life and death were such a big part of my family’s history. I had nothing to lose by trying one last code.

I held my breath as I typed. The lock let out a series of three beeps before the door hissed and slid into the wall. My heart pounded as I waited for the putrid stench of the tons of fertilizer that Dan warned me about, but it never came. The smell that did come to me was incredibly familiar. It was the strongest I’d ever smelled, and I pulled my T-shirt over my nose before I stepped inside.

It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the blue light, and even longer for my brain to process what my eyes were seeing. There were rows and rows of wooden tables like the ones that were in the front of the greenhouse, but instead of tomatoes, cucumbers, roses, and orchids, they were lined with rows and rows of incredibly recognizable and highly illegal marijuana plants.

“Holy shit.” I let out the breath that I’d been holding since typing Annie’s birthday into the keypad. I’d barely made it into the grow room when a sign caught my eye.

A NNIE’S G REEN G ABLES

H YbrID

Mavis had said she was running low on Annie’s Green Gables when she was talking to Dan at the bakery. Suddenly their conversation made sense. Dan was using my grandparents’ farm to run an illegal marijuana operation and Mavis was a part of it. My brain was trying to make sense of all this information when I also realized that Dan had lied to me. The entire time he was being so loving and attentive, he’d been lying to my face. I’d allowed a possible drug kingpin to get to second base.

As far from tired as one person could possibly get, I stormed out of Dan’s grow room, making sure the door closed behind me, and out of the greenhouse. I needed answers, and I wasn’t going to wait until morning to get them.