Love in Bloom

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

I beat King Richard to the punch and got downstairs and into the kitchen just in time to hear him screaming at the sun. Dan was already there, drinking his morning tea, and startled when I entered.

“Did I scare you?” I asked with a hint of a smile.

“Well, you’re not wielding any deadly cookware”—his beard twitched—“but I wasn’t expecting to see you this early.” His smile faded and he momentarily averted his eyes before looking at me again.

“Were you… avoiding me?” I wasn’t entirely joking.

“Well,” he started. He sounded a little flustered, and it was endearing. “I wouldn’t say I was avoiding you… more like giving you space.”

“I’m not sure if space is what I need,” I said with a sigh and began rifling through the cabinets.

Dan opened the cabinet I’d just closed and pulled down the bag of coffee beans, placing it on the counter and shoving the grinder next to it.

“Thank you. I’m still trying to figure things out, and I think I need”—Dan held the lid on top of the grinder while I turned the crank to pulverize the beans—“to learn more about the town and the people. Sweet, thanks.”

He handed me the scoop and pointed to the drawer that held the filters.

“I’m still not sure if living on the farm is what’s best for me”—he handed me a pitcher of water that I used to fill the coffee machine—“but I know I can’t sell it to someone like Preston.” I pressed the button to begin the process of brewing.

Dan placed a mug under the spout a second before the coffee began to flow.

“I knew I was forgetting something.” I shook my head and Dan’s smile widened. “Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, of course.” He filled up a small pitcher with milk before placing the sugar bowl and a spoon next to the machine. “I wish you would have found out another way, but I have to say that I’m relieved that you know.”

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow and took my first sip. It was a vast improvement over the last cup of coffee. The kitchen was also a lot cleaner this time. It made me wonder if Dan was onto something with his whole ask for help thing. I wouldn’t mention that to him, though.

“Yeah.” He began returning the coffee ingredients to their rightful homes in the cabinets. “You were going to have to find out eventually. At least now it’s out in the open. We can prepare for… whatever you decide…” He paused and raised an eyebrow, reminding me of Erica’s question at the diner about me staying.

My thoughts immediately went to Melissa and what her mother told me about her seizure disorder. I thought of my grandfather’s journal and Annie and everyone in this tiny town depending on two hundred fifty acres of land for their livelihood.

“I spoke to Erica today. She told me about Melissa and the brownies.” I searched Dan’s face for a response. He nodded, but his expression was unreadable. “I don’t fully understand everything that’s going on here, but I know I couldn’t do anything to jeopardize a little girl’s health or her parents’ freedom.”

“It’s not just Melissa.” Dan took a step closer to me. “There are loads of people who have had their lives changed by the work your grandparents have done here.”

“Like I said, I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. I know I can’t sell it to someone who’s going to turn it into a mall. Whatever my decision is, I’m going to make sure that the farm and the operation survive because it means so much to so many people.”

“Thank you,” Dan said and took a step closer, placing his hand over mine and flooding my body with warmth. “Does this mean that I’m forgiven?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Not completely,” I said and took a step closer to him, heat radiating off his large frame. “But you’re moving in the right direction.”

We were standing so close together that I had to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. It was barely six in the morning, and Dan already smelled like flowers and earth. The air between us thickened, threatening to choke us. I wanted to say something, but the ability to form words had escaped me. What I really wanted to do was kiss him again, but my common sense was somehow in control. My mind was still reeling from the past day, and getting involved with Dan after just getting out of a long-term relationship probably wasn’t the best decision. I took a deep breath and steeled myself before taking a step back, sliding the hand that Dan was covering with his away and wrapping it around my coffee mug.

“So what are you working on today?” I asked the question to change the subject of the wordless conversation Dan and I were having. He must’ve gotten the message because he cleared his throat and took a step back, grabbing his own mug of tea.

“Um”—he let out a deep sigh—“just some greenhouse and admin stuff. I’m still getting used to the idea of taking over a lot of the things that George used to do.”

“Well, I don’t know a lot about running an illegal drug operation, but if you need help feel free to ask.”

Dan answered me with a chuckle.

“Will do.” He slid his mug into the sink and turned to leave the kitchen. “How’s your hand today?”

“Much better.” I smiled. “Thank you.”

He nodded and left the kitchen. He’d pulled open the front door when I spoke again.

“Hey, Dan,” I called to his retreating figure. He turned around to look at me. “Don’t nail your hand to a door.”

He let out a loud laugh and pulled the door closed behind him.

“Hey, Erica,” I called across the field to where she was setting up a folding table and laying out a tablecloth. “Where do you want this cooler full of sports drinks?”

Erica dropped the tablecloth she was holding and jogged over to me. “Don’t you dare try to drag that thing with your hand still healing!” she admonished.

“Are you kidding?” I dug my fists into my hips and glared at her. “My hand is fine. My stitches have been out for a week. Look.” I pushed my palm into her face. “There’s barely a scar.”

“Dan,” Erica called over my shoulder to the man carrying a basket of sandwiches and wearing a baseball shirt with a giant tiger emblazoned on the front. Erica was also wearing a tiger baseball jersey. “Will you talk some sense into her?”

“Ha.” Dan handed her the tray of sandwiches before hoisting the cooler I was attempting to drag across the field into his arms. “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying to do that for weeks now. If you make any headway, let me know.” They turned their backs on me and walked toward the table Erica was setting up.

“I’m standing right here,” I called as I marched after them. “I can hear you.”

“Yes, you can, love.” Dan set the cooler down next to the table. “Our problem is that you don’t listen.” He shot me a wink and I narrowed my eyes at him, shaking my head before I walked off to join Erica in setting up the folding tables.

“Am I allowed to organize the silverware?” I asked sarcastically as I unpacked a paper shopping bag filled with napkins, flatware, and paper plates.

“Only if you promise not to stab yourself with a plastic fork,” she quipped, shooting me a smirk.

“I’ll do my best.” I chuckled.

“So you really seem to be finding your way here.” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“I’m not sure what you mean…”

“I mean, you been here for a minute. You seem a lot more comfortable. You’re definitely not as uptight as you were when you first got to town.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, acting scandalized, and threw a plastic spoon at her, which she swatted away. “It’s a lot easier to relax when the woman responsible for making your food isn’t constantly giving you the stink eye.” I shot her a sarcastic glare. In the last two weeks since Erica confided in me about Melissa’s condition, we’ve grown a lot closer. A fact that was helped by me eating at the diner almost every day.

“Speaking of which,” she said, picking up one of the sandwiches Dan and I had made—well, Dan made the sandwiches, and I put them in the sandwich baggies; a very important job—and taking a bite. “Mm, this is good. Speaking of which,” she continued with a mouthful of food, “I have to get you into the kitchen one of these days. You really need to learn how to cook.”

“No, I absolutely do not.” I laughed. “Between you and Dan, I will never go hungry.”

“Hmm, I bet.” She shot me a mischievous grin.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I had a feeling I already knew.

“Did you ever think that maybe you should stay in town permanently?”

“Are you asking because my choosing to live here would solve a lot of your problems?” I batted my eyelashes with my best approximation of an innocent smile. Erica frequently tried to gauge where I leaned regarding my grandparents’ farm by trying to convince me to stay.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not biased, but country living seems to be good for you.” She grinned. “And this town has plenty of other benefits that you might not be considering.” She tilted her chin across the field with a sly expression. When I turned in the direction she was pointing, I saw Dan standing about twenty feet away with another man, also wearing a tiger jersey and high-fiving a small crowd of girls in matching softball uniforms that included Melissa.

“Dan?” I scoffed and decided to use that precise moment to focus intently on organizing the napkins so I wouldn’t have to see Erica’s smug expression. “There’s nothing there. It’s complicated. And we’re just… I’m not sure. This whole thing is a mess that I’m trying to unravel.” I wasn’t making any sense, so I had to say something smart to rescue this situation. “Also, I just got out of a very long relationship. I’m not even thinking about another one.” There. That was something a sensible person would say. Too bad I was also remembering the way my legs wrapped around Dan’s waist as he pressed himself between my legs that night in the greenhouse.

A little over two weeks had passed since that night in the greenhouse. Dan and I had slipped into a comfortable rhythm around the farm. He was right about feeling like a weight had been lifted once I’d discovered the farm’s—and by extension, the entire town’s—secret. However, in those two weeks, Dan and I hadn’t come close to reliving our make-out session in the greenhouse. There were often moments when I wondered if Dan thought about that kiss as much as I did. Sometimes there would be glances that lingered a little too long, or a casual brush of skin while working in the little garden we’d planted in the front yard. Maybe that night in the greenhouse was an isolated event fueled by the adrenaline of the day’s excitement. Either way, no matter how adorable or sexy or incredibly thoughtful Dan was, I was in no emotional shape to be in a relationship with anybody.

At least that’s what I told myself during the times my thoughts drifted to Dan in the middle of a hot shower or while lying in my bed in the middle of the night. I couldn’t stop wondering what he was doing one floor above in his attic hideaway, while my hand explored the parts of my body that were craving his attention.

I realized that I’d been daydreaming when I heard Erica snapping her fingers to get my attention. My face snapped to hers and she was wearing a knowing smirk.

“What were you daydreaming about?” she asked while shoving a stack of paper plates into my hands.

“Nothing,” I stammered.

“Sure, Jan.” She chuckled and turned her attention back to organizing the table. “Start getting those plates ready; we’re going to have a mob of hungry little softball players in about ten seconds.” She pointed to the horde of ten- and eleven-year-old girls approaching, led by Dan and Erica’s husband.

“Did I miss the memo about the matching jerseys?” I asked Dan as he got closer.

“You didn’t get the memo?” He furrowed his eyebrows in mock confusion as he talked around a mouthful of sandwich. “I’m pretty sure I sent it.” He laughed as he backed away from me wearing a mischievous grin.

“Come on.” Erica tugged me by the arm. “Help me finish setting up the snacks so we can grab some good seats in the bleachers before the game starts back up.”

“What was with that weird look Dan was giving me?” I asked Erica while I handed out bags of chips.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe he just likes smiling at you.”

Erica’s words made my belly do a little flip, but her mischievous expression once again gave me the feeling there was something she wasn’t telling me.

The game had barely begun when a woman I recognized as the owner of the Feed ’n’ Farm—whose mortgage I’d probably paid for the rest of the summer—was squeezing her way into the bleachers where Erica and I were sitting.

“I am so sorry I’m late.” She shuffled into our row and surprised me by sitting next to me. “Dan told me how important it was to get this done by this morning, but things got crazy at the store and I got held up, but I made it.”

“I’m sorry?” I asked her with a bemused expression. I was slowly warming up to the town and all the people in it, but Roberta taking advantage of me at the Feed ’n’ Farm still rubbed me the wrong way. “Are you talking to me?”

“Of course I’m talking to you.” She let out a loud laugh and lightly shoved my shoulder as if we were old friends. Then she surprised me by placing a small paper shopping bag into my arms.

“I didn’t order this,” I said with a small measure of alarm and tried to return the bag, afraid that Roberta had found something else to charge me for. “And I’m not paying for it.”

“Well,” she said with a sigh that rang slightly of guilt, “I deserve that for the way I treated you when you came to the store.” She put her hands on top of mine and squeezed. The gesture felt slightly awkward, but the expression on her face was so sincere that I didn’t recoil or move to pull away. “There’s no excuse for the way I treated you. You just have to understand, this town, the farm… it means so much to so many people, and a lot of the folks in town, me included, took one look at your fancy clothes and expensive shoes and judged you too harshly. We’ve had people who look like you come in and out of this town trying to change our way of life, and when we found out that George and Harriet had left the farm to you, well, it scared a lot of us.” She shook her head.

“I am ashamed that I took advantage of you that day. George and Harriet were two of the most kind, generous, and hardworking people I’ve had the pleasure to know. But they were also two of the cleverest people I knew. If they left you the farm, they must’ve had a pretty damn good reason to do it. And who am I to judge?” She squeezed my hands even harder and offered me a small smile. “And Dan seems to trust you, and he’s a pretty damn good judge of character. So this is a really long-winded way of saying that I am very sorry. I hope you can forgive me and that we can start fresh.”

Roberta’s apology didn’t make any mention of refunding some of the money I’d spent in her store, but it was heartfelt, and I really wasn’t one for holding grudges, especially when people in town were finally beginning to trust me.

“Apology accepted.”

Roberta let out a deep sigh and smiled.

“Well, I’m glad that’s out of the way.” She shoved the paper shopping bag at me again. “Look inside.” I opened the shopping bag and was surprised to find a Tigers softball jersey in my size, with the name Walters embroidered on the back in big black letters.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Try it on,” Erica yelled from the seat next to me.

“Did you know about this?” I gave her a questioning look.

“Small town,” she said with a shrug. I slid into the jersey and buttoned it up. My heart suddenly felt too big for my chest.

“Dan was right,” Roberta remarked to Erica. “It’s a perfect fit.” Roberta elbowed me in the ribs. “You’re becoming one of us now.”

Roberta’s last words echoed in my head as I scanned the field. Dan was talking to Melissa’s father in the dugout. We locked eyes as he turned in my direction, and his face lit up when he caught sight of my jersey.

He raised his eyebrow in question, and my smile widened before I mouthed the words Thank you . He answered me with an adorable little bow and winked at me before returning to the very important business of coaching girls’ softball.

One of us.

My heart hammered in my chest. This town, this life, were miles away from where I ever thought I’d be at almost thirty years old. I’d spent my entire life working harder than everyone else around me, winning competitions, attending the best schools, scoring the best internships, dating the “perfect” man, working at the best PR firm, and nothing was as fulfilling as spending the morning making sandwiches, watching a group of girls in dusty softball uniforms run around a field, and listening to Erica and Roberta sharing the latest town gossip. Nothing scared me more, either.

“Emma?” Erica’s voice sounded like she was calling to me from the end of a tunnel. “Emma? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I stammered and shot to my feet. “I’m fine. I just need the ladies’ room. Where is it?”

Roberta pointed to a small brick building about thirty feet away, and I staggered out of the bleachers.

The bathroom was mercifully deserted when I used my palms to anchor myself to the sink. I stared at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing my reflection. My face was bare except for the thick lip balm that Ernesto swore by—though he neglected to tell me that it was originally used for cow udders until after I was addicted to it. My hair grazed my shoulders in wild curls, and my uniform, designer pencil dresses, had been replaced by boots, jeans, and, today, baseball jerseys.

Who was this person? Would my family and friends even recognize me?

I liked this Emma, but I had no way to tell if she was real or how long she’d last.

“Are you sure I can’t do anything to help?” I asked as I sipped tea and watched Dan assemble ingredients on the counter for dinner. “I have watched you make dinner for weeks now, and you never let me help.”

“Because”—Dan turned to face me while holding a large onion—“you don’t know how to cook, and it’s faster if I just do it myself.” He shot me a smile and then, upon seeing my slightly crestfallen expression, added, “You keep me company while I’m cooking; that’s a big help.”

“That’s the thing you tell a five-year-old when you don’t want to hurt their feelings by telling them the truth, which is that they would just get in the way.” I raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to contradict me.

“Well”—he examined a large red tomato—“your words, not mine.” He chuckled when I threw a napkin at him.

“Erica thinks that I should learn how to cook.”

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt to learn a little bit.” I lifted my tea to my lips again and tried to look innocent. “It might be fun with the right teacher…”

“I have a feeling I’m gonna regret this.” Dan let out an exaggerated sigh. “Come over here.” He used a large knife to beckon me over to the countertop. “I’m going to teach you how to chop vegetables.”

“Should my very first cooking lesson involve sharp knives?” I shot him a skeptical look.

“Good point.” He chuckled. I rolled my eyes at him. “But we’ll take it slow. I believe in you.”

He positioned my body in front of his, pressing his chest into my back as he wrapped my palm around the handle of the knife. My heart began to race and I took deep, calming breaths, inhaling his delicious scent—or maybe it was the scent of the spices laid out in the small glass jars on the counter.

“Now,” he whispered in my ear, “you want to keep a firm grip on the knife handle.” He demonstrated by squeezing his palm around my hand, tightening my hold on the knife. “Then you want to use your other hand as a guide.” He used his other hand to grip my wrist and wrap my palm around the tomato. “You want to curl your fingers when you hold the tomato, so you don’t slice the tips of your fingers off.”

“That would be bad,” I said with a shaky chuckle.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I think Dr. Westlake has had enough of sewing us together.”

“But,” I said, “it would be nice to see Frisbee again.” Dan chuckled, sending a wave of his warm breath across my neck, making me shiver and goose bumps erupt on my arms.

“Ready?” he asked when we regained our composure. I nodded. Dan applied the smallest amount of pressure on the skin of the tomato and the knife sliced through it like butter.

“Wow, that is really sharp.”

“Yeah, it makes cutting things easier.” I turned around to narrow my eyes at him and he shot me a small smirk.

“Are you teaching me or teasing me?” I laughed.

“Oh, I’m definitely doing both.” He winked before continuing to show me how to chop the tomato into evenly sized pieces before moving on to the mushrooms, the potatoes, and the green beans. I had to stop when we got to the onions because my eyes were burning.

Dan took over the heavy lifting of food preparation, while I watched in awe as he moved effortlessly around the kitchen while he talked. According to Dan, this was an easy curry recipe—though nothing about it struck me as easy—that his mother taught him to make when he first moved out.

“She was worried about me starving to death at university.” He shot me a grin before he scooped the chopped veggies into the pan.

“Where do you get all these spices?” I picked up the glass jars one by one and held them to my nose, savoring the smells. They all smelled a little bit like Dan, but not quite.

“Mum.” He chuckled again. “She sends me a package every few weeks. I’m still in danger of starving apparently.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” he conceded with a boyish grin. “I know she’s not excited about my living in the States as long as I have, but she and Dad are at least supportive, even if they don’t understand.” He shrugged. “I think the care packages are her way of taking care of me, even if she’s thousands of miles away, you know?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Which is why I’ll never tell her that I could get most of the same spices from Amazon or grow them fresh in the greenhouse.”

“You’d better not.” I slapped him on the arm. “How often do you talk to your mom?”

“Well, if you don’t count the good-morning messages in the family WhatsApp groups—”

My eyebrows shot to the top of my forehead.

Dan continued, “I talk to her almost every day, my dad once or twice a week, and my brother mostly via text.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that much about your brother.” I handed Dan two bowls that he filled with steaming hot curry. “You’ve mentioned him a few times, and I’ve seen pictures.”

“When you broke into my flat?” he teased.

“Tell me about your brother, smart-ass.” I placed the two bowls of curry on the table and seated myself. Dan joined me a moment later with two small bowls of rice.

“What’s there to say?” he said with a sigh. “Sanjeet is great. He’s the best brother a guy could ask for. He’s smart, funny, marginally handsome…” He chuckled. “He’s a doctor, which made my dad very happy, and he’s engaged to a doctor who is also the daughter of family friends, which made my mother very happy.”

“Why do you say it like that?” I put my spoon down and turned to face him.

“I didn’t mean to make it sound so depressing.” He swirled his spoon in his bowl, scooped up a potato, and dropped it back into the broth. “I’m really happy for my brother. Sometimes I look at his life and it makes me wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“What if I’d followed in my father’s footsteps? Became a doctor, got married…”

The thought of Dan married to a stranger made my stomach give an involuntary lurch.

“But you didn’t want to be a doctor.” I covered his hand with mine and gave him a small smile. He met my eye and returned my smile.

“No, I didn’t.”

“So if you’d become a doctor when you really wanted to be a horticulturist, that would have made for a miserable marriage.”

“Probably.” His smile widened.

“Also, most likely not good for your patients.”

“Definitely not.”

He huffed out a mirthless chuckle and we returned to our dinner. The silence was suffocating, and I was desperate to lighten the mood.

“So are you excited about the wedding?”

“Actually, yeah. I’m excited for my brother. Mita is amazing, and I have no idea what she sees in him.” His beard twitched and his smile made me relax. “There’ll be days of parties, food, and dancing.”

“It sounds like fun.”

“Oh, yeah, until the aunties and uncles start in. ‘Why aren’t you married? Why don’t you own a house? You don’t want to wait too long before you start having children.’”

“That sounds like my family, too. My father’s side of the family is huge. Every time there’s a family gathering, all of the grown folks spend most of their time bragging about their children and belittling everyone else’s. I always felt like I was in this unspoken competition with my cousins. Who had the best grades, the most scholarships, the most awards. I was usually ‘the winner’”—I sketched air quotes—“and that comes with its own set of stressors. I always felt like I had no idea what I was doing, yet had to pretend that I did. It was like I was a passenger in a car and someone else was driving. My whole life was laid out for me, and I wasn’t even sure if it was what I wanted, but it made my parents happy and Teddy happy and…” My heart thudded when I mentioned Teddy’s name. I shot a glance at Dan, but he didn’t react negatively.

“Can’t relate, love,” he said with a smirk. “I did everything wrong. I followed my heart and chose a career that made me happy instead of wealthy. I chose a girl because I liked spending time with her and not because she had the qualities of a good wife.” Something small and green twisted in my chest at the thought of Dan liking spending time with someone else. I wanted to ask about her but couldn’t think of a way to ask that wouldn’t make me sound insecure or nosy.

“Isn’t that how life is supposed to work?”

“I’m not so sure.”

“So what happened?” I helped myself to another spoonful of curry, not meeting his eye. “To the girl? Is that why you moved here?”

“You want to hear about my ex-girlfriend?” He shot me a curious expression.

“I mean, if you want to share.” My heart was racing, but I fought to keep my emotions in check.

“It’s a very long and complicated story, but we were together for ten years. I loved her very much and I thought she loved me, but things aren’t always what they seem, and people aren’t always who you think they are. And to answer your second question, yes, our breakup is a large part of how I ended up in the States.”

“So you ran away from home?”

“That’s a bit ironic, coming from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Emma, you showed up in the middle of the night and never left—not that I’m complaining. You’ve never made mention of your life in Atlanta, except when you told me that you’d broken up with your boyfriend and gotten sacked in the same day.” He raised an eyebrow, daring me to contradict him.

“Okay, so we’re both running away,” I conceded. “So what does that make us? Rebels? Outlaws?”

“Human,” Dan answered. “Just two humans trying to figure things out.” He rose from the table carrying his bowl. “Are you finished?” He tilted his chin at my bowl and I was surprised to find it empty.

“Let me help you clean up.” I sprang to my feet.

“I’ll wash, you dry,” he called to me over his shoulder as he filled the sink with water.

“Speaking of rebels and outlaws,” I said as I arranged the newly washed dishes in the drying rack, “I still haven’t decided what I want to do about the farm, but I realized something today at the game.”

“Yeah?” Dan asked. “What’s that?”

“I like it here,” I whispered, and for some reason my heart began to hammer in my chest. “I like the town, the people, the farm. Everyone is so warm and welcoming. When someone asks ‘How are you?’ they wait and listen to your answer. I love that no matter how bad I think my issues are, the chickens still need to be fed and the cows still need to be milked… and I like myself when I’m here. I love being a part of something bigger than me. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life and it feels… I don’t know… normal and good. But it’s all so fucked up because… because there’s an illegal drug operation that helps sick people, and, despite being able to run in five-inch heels, I can’t walk five steps without tripping over my feet in work boots. I’m happy and it feels strange and, well, it can’t possibly last. I don’t belong here. I’m just—” Dan dropped the sponge he was holding and pressed a soapy finger to my lips with a smile.

“I didn’t think I belonged here, either, until one day I woke up and realized I did. Most of that was because of the illegal drug operation that helps sick people, but it was also because, for the first time in a long time, I was living my life for myself, on my own terms, surrounded by people who were genuine and kind. If this place makes you happy, then maybe you shouldn’t fight it. Most good things in life don’t last, so why not enjoy it while you can?” He removed his finger from my lips and took a step closer to me. “Are there any specific people in this town that you’re particularly fond of?” His dark brown eyes bored into my mine, and I reached up, wrapped my arm around his neck, and pulled him closer.

“Well, King Richard is starting to grow on me.” I pressed myself up on my tiptoes and rubbed my nose across Dan’s, our lips dangerously close to brushing. “But he’s not a person, so…”

Dan huffed out a chuckle before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling our bodies together.

“I like you, Dan,” I whispered without a hint of playfulness. This moment felt scary but necessary. “I’ve never met anyone like you, anyone who makes me feel about myself the way you do.”

“I like you, too, Emma,” he whispered back and pressed our foreheads together. “You’re sort of impossible not to like—not that you haven’t tried to make yourself unlikable.”

“Shut up.” I playfully slapped him on the chest.

“I, for one, am glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” I wasn’t only glad to be in this town; I was also glad to be in this kitchen, in the arms of this impossibly gorgeous man who saw me. I’d felt more myself on this farm with Dan than I had in ten years with Teddy. There was always pressure to achieve more, be the best, be perfect. With Dan, I could just be myself, an imperfect person I was still discovering.

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been waiting over two weeks to kiss you again.”

“My breath smells like curry.”

“So does mine.” He chuckled.

“Good point.” I brushed my lips over his before I tightened my grip on his neck and pulled our faces together.