Chapter 11
Nash
Grandpa loves her. He absolutely loves her.
And she’s not my fiancée.
Magnolia is sitting on the edge of the bed, telling him about a time that she tried to plant an herb garden. Grandpa might have moved on from landscaping, but he still has a love for things that grow.
“And then I had one plant that was doing so well. I was so proud of it! My mom is a gardener, so I asked if I could do it all on my own without any of her help. So, finally, after about eight weeks, Mom came out to look at my little garden I had started in the greenhouse. When she saw it, she started laughing so hard that she couldn’t breathe.
” Magnolia sighs. “Apparently, the plant I’d been watering and nurturing was nightshade. ”
“How old were you?” I ask with a laugh.
I can just imagine a little kid, so excited to show off their work to their parents before finding out they were growing a poisonous plant.
Magnolia turns to give me a sheepish grin. “Nineteen.”
Grandpa and I laugh at that together.
“Well, maybe we’d better not let you pick which plants to grow around here, but I have a big garden space in the backyard if you’d like to try your hand at it again.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” Magnolia says. “I could make you a special tea garden.”
Grandpa shakes his head. “Please don’t. You might kill me.”
Magnolia folds her hands together and grins. “Maybe I’d better stick to flowers then. It’d be safer for all of us.”
Grandpa smiles happily, but his eyes are drooping.
Before I can say anything to Magnolia, she jumps up from the bed and pats his hand. “You need your rest. Because I’m going to need you back to tip-top shape to go plant shopping with me.”
Grandpa nods enthusiastically. “Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?”
Magnolia glances at me, a question in her eyes.
I give her a single nod.
“Of course. It’s not often I get a chance to annoy someone with my boring stories.”
Her stories are anything but boring. And I’m a little nervous; I’m liking her just as much as Grandpa is.
“I’m holding you to that promise, Miss Magnolia.”
Grandpa keeps calling her that…and I think it’s adorable. He already has a nickname for her. Too bad she’s not my actual fiancée. He would love to have her in the family.
“Have a good rest,” I tell him as I hold the door open for Magnolia, and we both walk out into the hall.
I close the door quietly and stop abruptly when I realize Magnolia is standing close.
“He’s such a sweetheart. I’m so glad he’s doing better,” she whispers. She’s clutching her hands at her chest as she stares at the door.
I rest a hand on her shoulder. “You were amazing in there. He loves you. Thank you for sitting and talking with him so much.”
She nods and looks up at me with wide eyes as I gently nudge her farther down the hall.
“I know it’s a weird thing to think, but I enjoyed getting to visit with him. Both sets of my grandparents passed away when I was really young, so I haven’t had that in my life. And it’s nice.”
“Well, he’s claimed you now. I’m halfway scared that when he finds out we’re not actually engaged, he’ll decide to keep you instead of me,” I tease.
She smiles at that. “I’m very keepable.”
“Yes, you are,” I say quietly as she starts descending the stairs.
She didn’t hear my words, and I’m grateful for that.
I say a little louder, “Let’s go to the kitchen, and I’ll make an early lunch.”
“You cook?” Magnolia stares at me with her jaw open as she follows me into the big kitchen.
There’s a twelve-foot island in the middle that I use to hold the food I pull from the fridge. It’s freshly stocked, thanks to Eli, and I’ll be able to make something semi-decent for lunch.
“Believe it or not, men do like to eat too.”
She pokes my arm. “You know what I mean. Look at all these ingredients!” She gestures to the array of things I’ve pulled from the fridge.
“It’s not that fancy. I’m just making salad and steak with a chimichurri sauce.”
“Nash Whitlock, you could make any woman fall in love with you with those words.”
“I’ll make sure to update my dating app bio.”
She grins and reaches forward to snag a cherry tomato from the container, popping it into her mouth. “What can I do to help?”
“You cook?” I ask, imitating her shocked tone.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”
It’s my turn to smile. “Nope.”
She marches past me to wash her hands at the deep farm sink. “You’ll just have to see, I guess.” She turns around. “Now, where’s the boxed mac and cheese?”
“That’s it. You’re not allowed to touch my steak.”
She smiles. “Well, at least let me wash the herbs.”
I hold the bunch of flat-leaf parsley out to her. “Only if you promise not to ruin it…”
She narrows her eyes at me and snatches the parsley from my hand, waving it at me like it’s a sword. “Just wait. I’ll be the best parsley washer you’ve ever met.”
And somehow, I believe her.