Chapter Two #2
Her younger sister, Maggie, dropped a bakery box off for the workers at the front desk, then rounded the corner holding another box and two iced coffees.
Her bright sundress fluttered around her knees and brown hair tucked into a messy braid bounced off her shoulder.
At her side, a squat Corgi trotted as if he owned the place.
Like Sammy, Tater was a rescue. He was also their self-appointed quality control manager and chaos coordinator.
Sammy immediately rushed forward to greet them with nose bumps and tail wags, while Tater struck a pose like he was ready for a promotional calendar.
“Blueberry and lemon,” Maggie announced, wiggling the box before setting it on a table on the side patio to bend and pet Sammy. “And what kind of day? It’s barely noon.”
Callie snorted. “A man showed up out of nowhere. Aviators. Muscles. Called himself Herb Boy.”
Maggie straightened and blinked. “You hallucinating again, or was this one real?”
“Unfortunately, real.”
Her sister’s eyes sparkled. “Was he cute?”
Gorgeous was a better fit, she thought absently, watching the dogs chase each other out the door with Tater in the lead. Of course, she’d never admit those thoughts to her sister.
Callie tried for casual instead. “I mean, objectively, I’d say yes.”
“Oh, we are absolutely unpacking that in a minute.” Maggie plopped down on a stool and handed over a coffee. “Start from the top. I want details. Name. Height. Voice. Was there banter?”
She took a long sip, debating how much to share. “Matthew Walker. Over six feet. Deep. He said the place smelled like a salad bar.”
Maggie gasped. “Rude.”
“He also called me bossy. And pretty. Not in that order.”
“Sounds like a keeper.” Her sister grinned. “He’s got you pegged already.”
“Stop.”
“I will not. You’re blushing.”
“It’s the humidity.”
Maggie opened the scone box. “Sure. Anyway, I think it’s time you started dating again. Maybe this is fate.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to date again, she just hadn’t met anyone who felt as steady and dependable as a well-rooted tree. Lord knew she’d had her share of tumbleweeds.
“Maybe this is the universe delivering you a boyfriend with nice arms,” her sister added.
Callie raised a brow. “How’d you know he has nice arms?”
“I didn’t.” Her sister smirked. “But I do now.”
Great.
She was such a sucker.
Callie grunted. “He was here for basil.”
“I’m here for this.”
The dogs barked once and then flopped into a shade spot together. Best friends with zero ambition.
Callie looked out toward the gravel lot where Matthew’s truck had been earlier and found herself smiling.
Then she sobered.
She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have energy for this.
But she also couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at her like she was the thing worth noticing.
Pushing that unexpected and warm thought aside, Callie leaned against the potting bench while Maggie tore into a scone.
“You’re lucky Mom didn’t stop by and see you all starry-eyed and jumpy,” her sister said through a mouthful. “She’ll think you’re secretly pining. Let me rephrase that. She’d hope you were secretly pining.”
“I am not pining.”
“Uh-huh. That was a pining-level sigh I heard when I arrived.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “That sigh was for the humidity and the fact that I now have to restock Thai basil. Again.”
Maggie hummed and tossed a piece of scone to Sammy, who ditched the shade to catch the morsel mid-air with Olympic precision. “So, what’s the deal with this guy anyway?”
She groaned inwardly. Apparently, they weren’t finished with the Matthew subject.
“He works at Eagle Security,” she replied without thinking. “Guess he’s also helping Annie Winslow out because she sent him for herbs.”
“Translation: He’s hot, kind, and he follows orders.”
“I swear, Maggie—”
“ Perfect boyfriend resumé.” She popped the last bite in her mouth and reached for her iced coffee. “Mom would love him. She’s all about kind men who say yes and haul things.”
Callie let out a laugh. “Mom still thinks my standards are the reason I’m single.”
“They kinda are,” Maggie said sweetly. “But in your defense, it’s difficult to meet someone when you spend twelve hours a day wrestling irrigation valves and hoarding marigolds.”
She glanced past the edge of the property to the old ranch house with its weathered wood siding, wide wraparound porch, and wind chimes that played the same soft tune carried in every breeze, which held a lifetime of memories.
Some sweet, some bittersweet.
She could still see her dad with coffee in hand, feet kicked up on the porch rail, while her mom hummed along to old country records drifting through the screen door.
Cancer had taken him two years ago. Their mom had moved into town last year, settling into the upstairs apartment above the antique shop she now ran with Grandma Mae.
“Don’t tell Mom,” Callie said, “but I think she was right. I’ve gotten too good at being busy.”
Maggie arched a brow. “You just realized this?”
“No,” Callie said, pushing off the bench. “But I didn’t expect basil boy to be the one to remind me.”
Her sister’s grin returned, bigger, brighter, and infinitely more annoying.
“That’s because you don’t believe in signs.
But I do. And I’m telling you, when a handsome stranger with sexy forearms shows up on your turf, talking herbs and grinning like he’s got secrets?
That’s the universe whispering, “Girl, go flirt .”
Once again, Callie marveled at how Maggie could so accurately describe Matthew without even seeing him.
It was a gift.
An infuriating one.
She snorted. “Then the universe better be ready for compost if he comes back.”
Maggie raised her coffee in a toast. “Can’t wait.”
Right on cue, Tater trotted over, let out a joyful bark, and flopped dramatically into the nearest patch of mulch as if it were his fainting couch.
Sammy, ever the calm counterpart, padded over and settled beside him with a soft chuff, head tilted, silently judging the theatrics before resting his chin on his paws.
They were on the side patio of the nursery’s main building, a shaded space Callie had set up with mismatched benches, a pair of old rocking chairs, and a repurposed potting table that now served as an outdoor break spot.
Wind chimes tinkled gently under the eaves, and baskets of trailing petunias swayed in the breeze.
Beyond the fence, rows of potted plants stretched in neat lines, and the greenhouse roofs shimmered under the afternoon sun.
Callie shook her head. “See? Even Tater’s rooting for chaos.”
“’Cause he’s smart like his mamma,” Maggie said, smirking as she took a sip of her iced coffee and nudged the scone box closer.
“Don’t you mean aunt? Or grandma?” Callie countered, leaning back against the wooden bench.
“All of the above.” Maggie grinned. “Don’t mess with a Morgan girl.”
Callie nodded. “You know it.”
“True. I do,” her sister said. “I also know it’s Tuesday night, which means line dancing at Tex Pub.”
Callie blinked. “Already? Feels as if we were just there.”
“We were. Seven days ago,” Maggie said cheerfully. “Don’t even try to wiggle out of it. Mom told me you’re caught up on work and have no plans tonight. And if you do, I’m here. We’ll knock it out.”
Well, there went the excuse she’d been about to toss out.
Callie narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been talking to Mom and spying on my schedule?”
“I do the books for this place, remember? And the antique shop.” Maggie grinned, unbothered. “I know exactly how many orders went out, how many invoices came in, and how many sad little excuses you’re currently hoarding.”
Callie crossed her arms. “You’re not supposed to weaponize your spreadsheets.”
“Oh, please. I keep this whole family enterprise running. The least I get is first dibs on your free time.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t love line dancing.
She did. But some nights, she liked lingering in the nursery after closing, checking seedlings, watering the back rows, or sketching new landscape layouts as the sun sank low behind the oak trees.
Tasks she didn’t have to do but enjoyed doing. At her pace. On her terms.
“Callie?” Maggie arched a brow. “You promised. Tuesdays are sacred. Plus, we’re supposed to meet Emily and Holden.”
True. It would be good to hang out with her childhood friend and her husband again.
“Work stops when the CLOSED sign flips and the boots come out,” her sister continued. “You need to let loose.”
She sighed. “It’s not work if you love it,” Callie said, brushing her hand over Sammy’s golden head as he leaned against her leg. “And I love what I do.”
The planting, the cultivating, the designing…they were all in her blood. Her rhythm. Her peace.
“I know.” Maggie sighed. “But you also work more than twelve hours a day sometimes. Give yourself one night a week to breathe.”
Sammy let out a small whine in agreement, while Tater rolled over and wagged his feet at the sky like a Corgi-shaped exclamation point.
Callie exhaled, but her smile tugged free. “Fine,” she muttered. “But I’m not wearing fringe.”
Maggie lit up. “Deal. But I am . Just so the universe knows who to send the hot cowboys to.”