10. Summer
Summer
“Can you pick up the pace?” I check my watch again as Jaxon saunters over. “I should’ve been on the road five minutes ago.”
“I thought this was the farmers market,” he says. “Not a horse race.”
“You’ve been shooting the breeze with your brothers.” I cross around the truck. “Some of us actually have a business to run.”
He grabs the door handle. “You’re awfully bossy for someone who’s getting free labor.”
“And you’re getting a free ride.” I tap the logo on the side of the truck. “Which means today you’re on my time clock.”
He drops into the passenger seat, silently inspecting the inside of my truck.
So maybe it has seen better days. The seat is ripped, the radio doesn’t work, and I have a pen stuck into the broken lever that controls the windshield wipers, but other than that, it’s perfectly fine.
Plus, the old teal color is my favorite, even with rust on the bumpers and wheel wells.
“Where’d you get this rust bucket?” he says, snapping his seat belt into place.
“Excuse me, but I like the rust. It’s called character.” The engine rumbles to life.
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” He grins. “I’d just call it junkyard ready.”
I roll my eyes. “My truck has served me well since I started this business, and I won’t hear a word against her. She’s vintage farm chic, exactly the vibe of Wildflower Farms.”
I ease onto the main road, taking it slowly so I don’t injure the flowers.
“And people actually pay good money for these?” he asks.
I bite the inside of my cheek. These flowers have helped pay for Mom’s care this year. “I sell out most Saturdays. And this is just phase one of my plan.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Phase one?”
“I don’t want to sell flowers at the market forever.” I glance in the rearview at a cloud of dust rising behind us. “Eventually, I’m hoping to buy a building and open a wedding event center.”
“In Golden Springs?”
I give him a look. “I know how it sounds.”
“That’s a big swing for a town this size.”
I grip the wheel of my truck tighter. “There are only two places to get married in the entire county—the church and the courthouse. Most couples who want something special drive to Lexington or Louisville and spend a fortune on a venue that’s not even close to where they live.”
I slow down for the turn onto Main Street. “Brides want an experience these days. Something beautiful that has history with it. Not some fake rustic venue off the interstate that charges twelve thousand dollars to rent a room with a saddle on the wall.”
“Okay. So where’s the venue?”
“That’s the problem.” I pull into a parking space along a side street and cut the engine. “There’s nothing in town that would work. I’ve looked. Even the buildings that could be renovated are too small, too expensive, or owned by people who aren’t interested in selling.”
“So it’s a dead end.”
“For now.” I unbuckle my seat belt. “But not forever.”
I’ve thought about this dilemma for months, and the only space within twenty miles that would be perfect is sitting right there on Lucky Chance Ranch, mostly empty except for my flower supplies, with the original wide-plank floors and hand-hewn beams. Every day I walk into the old barn, I think about what it could be with a little work.
Lights strung from the beams, lanterns in the big center aisle, the married couple kissing in front of the barn doors.
My flowers would add the perfect touch—greenery wrapped around the wooden posts, wildflower bouquets everywhere, and an enormous arbor featuring spray roses and peonies.
Add the backdrop of horses grazing as the sun sets over the rolling hills, and you have the ideal location.
So perfect, not even a photograph could do it justice.
But the barn is technically part of the Chance estate, which means in two years Jaxon and his brothers will have full say over what happens to it.
If I tell him I want to turn his family’s barn into a wedding venue before I’ve earned his trust, he’s going to think I’m trying to claim one more piece of property that belongs to the Chance family.
Jaxon shuts his door, then stares at the scene on Main Street. “Half the town’s here already.”
The entire block is filled end to end with booths and people and scents. Breakfast sausage and nutty coffee. Cinnamon rolls from the First Baptist Church’s bake sale. Dogs in bandanas, sniffing for scraps. Rainbows of vegetables spill from wooden crates. Somebody’s radio plays Alan Jackson on low.
Jaxon moves to the truck bed. “Where do you want these?”
“I usually set up in front of the coffee shop.” I nod toward the renovated building.
As soon as we start unloading, people openly stare at Jaxon. Colleen Cromwell bustles over first, brushing a hand over her graying curls. “So it’s true, Jaxon Chance is actually home!”
“Hello, Ms. Cromwell,” he says with a nod.
She watches him heft a huge load from the bed. “Well, look at you all grown up.” Her gaze scoots over his shoulders. “I bet Summer appreciates a man like you.”
Jaxon cuts a glance at her, clearly uncomfortable.
“Course I do,” I say with a polite nod. “Especially on market day. I’d be stupid to carry all these flowers myself.”
She leans toward me and whispers, “That man could lift a heifer one-handed if he wanted.”
I bite back a smile as Jaxon ignores Colleen. I bet she’d enjoy giving his bicep a firm squeeze, like testing cantaloupe at the market.
Jaxon glances between us, his arms full of flowers. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I need to get these over to Summer’s booth.”
As soon as he’s gone, Colleen lifts a brow. “Is there something we should know, Summer?”
“No, ma’am.” I pick up some bouquets, keeping my eyes averted. “He offered to help unload, that’s all.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Didn’t you two date back in high school?”
I can tell she’s fishing for gossip. “Nope. Just worked together on the farm.”
“That’s always how it starts, honey.”
“Well, it’s not starting here.” I grab another box of supplies under my arm like that settles it. “I’ve got flowers to sell, Colleen.”
“Well, I’ll be watching,” she says with a wink, following me to my booth.
Jaxon is stacking buckets under the table when Colleen pounces. “Jaxon, I almost forgot. We need to make an announcement, and let people know you’re here.”
Jaxon straightens, then rubs the back of his neck. “I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“But the mayor’s about to do his morning introduction. We could add it right in.”
He pauses, looking at me for help.
“Colleen,” I interrupt, stepping forward. “Could you have the mayor mention something about Lucky Chance Ranch? Tell him if anyone has questions about the farm, Jaxon would be happy to answer them.”
She nods. “I don’t see why not. I’ll go find the mayor right now.” Colleen hurries away, and neither of us says anything for a few seconds.
“Uh, that was nice of you,” he says, his gaze landing on some burgundy celosia.
I shrug. “It’s the reason you came today, right? For Lucky Chance?”
“Yeah.” He tilts his head. “I just didn’t expect you to help me.”
I arrange some sunflowers on the table, avoiding his gaze. “I want the farm to make it.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Well, I’m sorry I picked your best sunflowers.”
“And my zinnias,” I remind him with a smirk. “What’d you do with them anyway?”
He adjusts a crooked zinnia that I missed. “I gave them to someone who’d appreciate them.” His mouth lifts on one side, the movement so subtle, I almost miss it.
I’m dying to ask who he gave them to, but I don’t—it’s none of my business who Jaxon Chance gives flowers to.
“Hey.” I turn toward him. “Could you get one more bunch from the truck?”
He nods, then heads to the truck.
So what if he has another woman? Someone he’s been in contact with this whole time, and he gave her a bouquet as a guess who’s back in town surprise?
I move a bucket. Good for her, whoever she is.
Jaxon returns and sets the last of the blooms on the table. “That’s everything. You need anything else?”
“Nope.” I focus on the table, the mass of colors and textures in front of me.
He studies me for a moment. “You all set, then?”
“Yep.” I wipe my hands, still not looking at him.
Colleen reappears and takes Jaxon by the arm. “We’re ready for you,” she says, steering him away.
Jaxon shoots me a look over his shoulder that says help.
I give him a little wave. You’re on your own, Chance.
The mayor gives his usual morning welcome, adding the surprise announcement that the oldest Chance brother will do a meet-and-greet directly across from my booth. Jaxon’s head snaps toward me, and I just shrug. That’s Colleen for you. Give her an inch, she’ll take a mile.
Which means I’ll have to watch him all morning.
Women, kids, and men who probably couldn’t name a hockey team if they tried all crowd around him. Colleen tries to get order while Jaxon pastes on a smile and makes small talk like it’s his job. Hockey apparently taught him something about PR.
A little boy runs toward him first, and without hesitating, Jaxon drops right down to the boy’s level like he’s the most important person here.
When the mom takes out her phone, Jaxon wraps an arm around his shoulders.
The smile is the same one I remember in high school when one of his brothers would make him laugh.
Then he reaches into his pocket, signs something, and hands it to the boy’s mom. Even at a distance, I swear there are tears in her eyes.
Huh.
I would not have guessed that Jaxon Chance, who never struck me as the family type, is actually wonderful with kids.That’s the problem with this man. Just when I’ve built a solid case against him, he goes and does something like that.
“Summer! How’s business?” I spin around to see Leroy standing at my table, his usual fishing hat shading his graying comb-over.
“Good morning, Leroy.” Finally, a customer. “What can I get for you?”
“Actually, I’m not here to buy.”
My heart sinks. “Oh.”
“I was just wondering if Jaxon was going to be here all morning. I’m working at the feed store and my first break won’t be until ten.”
Of course he’s asking about Jaxon. Everyone is. I glance at the line that’s already twice as long. “I believe so.”
“Good.” Relief washes over him. “I can’t wait to get a picture with him.”
I straighten a few bouquets, trying to ignore the crowd gathering around Jaxon. Nobody is even walking by my table. Half the foot traffic that normally wanders past has detoured to stand in line across the street, and the other half is too busy staring at Jaxon to pay attention to anything else.
After the first hour, I add up my sales, and I can tell the number is not what it usually is on Saturdays. People are lingering in Jaxon’s line instead of shopping, and I’ve probably lost a good amount of money because of it.
I rearrange my bouquets into a new display. A woman stops, looks for a second, then keeps walking toward Jaxon’s side of the street.
I stand in front of my table to drum up interest…and get crickets.
Somehow Jaxon Chance has managed to outsell me without selling a single thing. Even on my turf, I still can’t win against him.
I look across the street at Jaxon taking another selfie with a group of people, all of them gushing over him like he’s a celebrity. That’s when I get an idea. If people are going to be taking pictures with Jaxon anyway, then I might as well use it to my benefit.
I grab my most beautiful bouquet, ask a woman at the next booth to keep an eye on my table, and cross the street.
I step to the front of the line. “What are you doing, Summer?” Jaxon asks.
I lean in and whisper, “Just follow my lead.” Then I turn to the teenage girl in line next. “You know what would make your photo with Jaxon even better?” I hold out my bouquet. “Flowers. Would you mind holding this for the picture and tagging Wildflower Farms when you post it?”
Jaxon’s brow furrows.
“Oh, I’d love to! These are gorgeous.” She holds the bouquet against her side, leans into Jaxon, and smiles for the camera.
And just like that, Jaxon’s unintentionally providing free advertising for Wildflower Farms.
When a mother with two little girls in French braids steps up, I crouch down, offering them sunflowers. “Would you like to hold these for your picture with Jaxon?”
The girls nod, then hold their sunflowers like they’ve been given an important job. I remind their mom to tag me before she walks away, then turn to the next person in line.
My stomach drops when I see her. Mollie Holliday. Senior homecoming queen and salutatorian of Jaxon’s class. She brushes past me, her gaze fixed on the man behind me.
“Jaxon!” she gushes.
“Mollie?” He opens his arms, and she walks right into his hug like they’re old buddies. “How long have you been back?”
“I just moved back three months ago,” she says. “I’m a large-animal vet now. Bought into a practice in Lexington, but I do farm calls out this way twice a week.”
“Wow.” His eyes widen. “You always said that’s what you wanted to do.”
So she’s a vet? How convenient.
“And look at you,” she says, motioning to him. “Back at Lucky Chance, huh?”
He nods. “Still learning the ropes.”
“I heard about your parents. I’m so sorry, Jaxon. They were wonderful people.”
She’s nice. That’s the worst part. Too nice to even hate.
Mollie turns and sees me. “Summer, right? By the way, your flowers are absolutely gorgeous.”
I hold out my bouquet. “Would you like to hold it for your photo?” It takes everything in me not to wish it was a bouquet of poison ivy instead.
“I’d love that,” she says, her smile widening.
He takes her phone, their fingers touching for a second before she moves closer to him. I know it’s probably nothing, but that doesn’t erase the pinch of jealousy inside me as they pose together.
“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” she says to Jaxon before leaving. “If Lucky Chance is going to need a large-animal vet, call me.” Then she waves.
“Old friend?” I ask when she’s out of earshot.
“We hung out sometimes,” he says.
“She seems great,” I say flatly. Attractive, successful, just the kind of woman that would complement Jaxon well.
“Yeah, she’s nice.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “What exactly are you doing over here, anyway?”
“Saw an opportunity. It’s called business.”
“So, you’re using my name to sell your flowers?” His eyes dance. “I should probably charge you for that.”
“Charge me?” I scoff. “You’re taking away all my foot traffic this morning.
I should bill you. Everyone’s lining up over here instead of shopping, so I figured I might as well find something about you that’s actually useful.
” I press the bouquet into his hands. “It’s either that or shoveling horse manure. ”
The corner of his mouth pulls up—the same one he gave the little boy earlier. But this time, that grin is all for me. “Anything else, boss?”
“Just keep smiling,” I say, and head back to my booth before he can see what that smirk is doing to me.