Chapter Eleven #2
Then she moved to the little side nook near the bulletin board, out of view. A second later, she peeled her shirt off without ceremony, wringing the hem out over a nearby sink before tugging the dry one over her head.
Matthew’s mouth went dry.
She didn’t make a show of it, didn’t have to. The curve of her back, the damp ponytail now back in place and brushing her spine. The flash of toned skin before the soft shirt dropped into place all rooted him to the spot. Need flared so fast, he felt sucker punched by it.
She turned around and tossed the orange T-shirt at his chest. “Your turn.”
He caught it, eyeing the print. “‘Plant Daddy’? Really?”
She smirked. “You’d wear it well.”
He huffed a quiet laugh and reached for the hem of his own soaked shirt. It clung like shrink-wrap, and by the time he got it over his head, his hair was a mess, and his skin prickled in the air-conditioned room.
Callie didn’t look away.
He saw in her eyes a flicker of interest she tried to play off as casual. It lit him up all over again.
“You checking me out?” he asked, a grin tugging his lips.
She tossed him a towel from the sink. “You dripped on the aloe starter kits. Dry off before you kill something.”
He wiped his face and chest, still grinning, then pulled on the T-shirt. It was snug. Not uncomfortable, but definitely snug.
“You sure you didn’t hand me the smallest size in order to get another look?”
“No.” Mischief flickered in her eyes as she slapped a hand to her neck. “I would never.”
He chuckled. “No, my ass.”
“To be fair,” she said with a sigh, “I can’t see your ass. You’ve got it covered.”
He laughed. God, he loved this. Her dry wit. Her lack of pretense. Especially after what had just happened between them.
As she moved around the space, checking the shelves and muttering to herself about inventory, Matthew felt something loosen deeper inside him.
This wasn’t simply attraction, or even their crazy connection. It was the sense that something real was building between them.
He stepped closer and caught her hand as she reached for a clipboard. “You okay?”
She looked up, surprised, then her gaze softened. “Yeah, I am.”
He didn’t kiss her this time.
Didn’t need to, because even soaked to the bone and wrapped in a Plant Daddy shirt, he’d never felt better in his life.
Callie squeezed his hand before releasing it to move toward her office, still barefoot, her ponytail damp and curling at the ends.
The T-shirt she wore clung to her in places and hung loose in others, and Matthew’s brain refused to cooperate for half a second before he forced it back into investigative mode.
She tugged open the door to her office, the converted nook he remembered with its battered desk, mismatched chairs, and the faint smell of potting soil clinging to the air. She powered up the laptop in the corner, the overhead light flickering once before catching.
“I should double-check tomorrow’s delivery,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “It’s scheduled for the same time, same route as that weird one today.”
Matthew’s attention sharpened. “Yes, that’s too odd to ignore.”
She nodded slowly. “I agree. The manifest looked almost identical.”
He stepped closer, the tension creeping back into his shoulders. “Then let’s make sure there’s nothing extra hitching a ride.”
Callie clicked through a few files, fingers flying across the keyboard. The manifest pulled up with a soft ding , the columns neat and precise. She scrolled to the bottom.
“There,” she said, frowning. “That wasn’t on the last order.”
Matthew leaned in beside her. His arm brushed hers, warm and grounding as his eyes scanned the line item.
Item: Herbal Bliss pest repellent mix – 1 box (12 units)
Vendor: FieldSource Garden Supply
“Do you use this stuff?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Never even heard of that brand. I make our pest mixes in-house. Cheaper, safer, but I’ve always gotten the base supplies from FieldSource. Ellis Crane oversees this region. Known him since I was a kid.”
“No problems?” Matthew asked.
“None.” She snickered. “Guy’s practically the patron saint of potting soil.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Then why the hell is it on your order?”
“I don’t know.” She scrolled up. “Ellis doesn’t make this kind of mistake.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. He’s thorough. Been doing this longer than I’ve been running this place.” She frowned at the screen. “The main items match. Mulch, potting soil, organic starter trays. All normal. But this…”
Matthew reached into his pocket for his phone. “Mind if I take a screenshot?”
Callie turned to him. “You think it’s like the citrus soil mix from earlier?”
“Could be nothing,” he said, snapping the photo. “Or it could be how someone’s trying to slip something into your supply chain.”
Her brows pulled together. “What could anyone hide in pest repellent?”
He stared at the vendor’s name a beat longer. Something about it nagged at him. Not the product, the paper trail.
“Several things come to mind, but it doesn’t matter what it is yet,” he said quietly. “What matters is why someone wants it delivered to your property under the radar.”
Matthew sent the screenshot to Carter with a short message:
“Need a trace on this vendor. Quietly, if possible.”
It didn’t take long.
“On it. Pest repellent, my ass. Bet it repels common sense too.” A meme followed—an exasperated cat holding a magnifying glass with Suspicious plant activity? written across the top.
Matthew hesitated a second, then added:
Do a deep dive on FieldSource Garden Supply, too. And their depot manager—Ellis Crane. I know he's been around forever. Callie trusts him. All the more reason I want to be sure.
Carter’s response came fast.
On it, lover boy. Plant dads deserve answers.
He inwardly groaned. Great. Thanks to the camera feeds Carter was now locked into, everyone at ESI was going to hear about his damn tight shirt.
His phone buzzed again. This time, a still frame from one of the nursery cameras—Callie, barefoot and walking toward the office with Sammy trotting at her side, her wet clothes clinging to every beautiful curve. Even though he’d lived it, the image wrecked his pulse.
Damn, she was breathtaking.
Another message popped up beneath it:
Looks like you guys got caught…in the rain.
Carter added a leaf emoji, followed by a flexing arm.
Matthew scrubbed a hand down his face, muttering a curse. The last thing Callie needed was that idiot gossiping about them.
Then his heart froze.
Had he been wrong about the camera coverage?
His pulse kicked hard as he pulled up the remote feed on his still-damp phone, thumbing through camera angles to double-check the nursery surveillance.
Thank God.
He exhaled slowly. The lean-to wasn’t wired. He knew that, but for a second, he’d thought Carter had seen much more than a rainy walk.
His jaw clenched.
If there had been a camera anywhere near that table, there was no way in hell he ever would’ve let what happened…happen.
Not with her. No way.
Matthew backed out of the feed and slid his phone into his pocket as he stood off to her side.
They had a potential threat to track. A delivery to intercept. And somewhere between the heat, the rain, and her smile, he’d stopped thinking like a man on assignment and started feeling like a man with something to lose.
It wasn’t smart. Wasn’t planned.
But it was real.
And that made it dangerous.
Callie logged out, shut the laptop, then stood and looked around the office as if mentally walking through a checklist. “I need to lock up and head home. You should, too.”
He nodded. “After I walk with you.”
She didn’t argue, just flicked off the light and nudged the office door shut behind them. They moved in companionable silence through the dim main building, checking locks, flipping switches. When she reached the front entrance, she bent down and gave Sammy a gentle scratch.
“Lead the way, bud,” she murmured.
The dog trotted ahead into the dusk, his tail up, already halfway down the gravel path by the time they stepped outside.
The storm had cooled things slightly, leaving the air dense but no longer oppressive.
Gravel crunched under their feet. Crickets chirped lazily from the brush.
And as they walked through the wet grass in companionable silence, an unexpected calm washed over him.
When they reached her porch, Callie paused, hand on the rail. She glanced at him, her expression unreadable in the shifting light.
Matthew stepped closer, brushing his knuckles against hers.
“I’m not coming in,” he said quietly. “So no pressure.”
Her mouth twitched, and she appeared unsure whether to be relieved or disappointed. “Okay.”
“But I am doing this.”
He leaned in and kissed her, unhurriedly, deliberately, savoring the connection. Not the kind of kiss that asked for more, instead, it was to convey to her that I’m here. I see you. And I’m not going anywhere.
When he pulled back, her fingers lingered at the hem of his shirt. She did that a lot. He liked it a lot, too.
“Be safe,” she said softly.
“You too.”
Sammy gave a soft whine, already sitting in front of the door, waiting for the humans to get their act together.
Matthew smiled and waited until Callie and her dog were safely inside, the porch light flickering on as the door clicked shut behind her. He lingered a second longer than necessary, then turned and made his way back across the field to his SUV at the nursery lot.
Once inside, he shut the door and exhaled hard, knuckles tapping once against the steering wheel.
Hell of a night.
He could still feel her. Taste her. The imprint of her hands, her voice, her laugh—it had worked under his skin. Something had shifted between them, something he wasn’t ready to name but wasn’t willing to walk away from either.
It sucked there wasn’t time to sit with it.
Not with that vendor. That box. That tiny, out-of-place item that had no business showing up on her delivery.
Something was off.
And if tomorrow’s shipment went sideways, whoever was behind it thought they could use Callie or her land as cover?
They were going to learn just how badly they’d underestimated him.