Chapter 6
Six
Tate
I pulled into Mrs. Fairchild’s circular driveway, gravel crunching under the tires of my work truck.
The two-story Victorian loomed before us, its weathered white paint and black shutters a testament to its age.
Hints of what must have once been spectacular gardens peeked through years of neglect—the skeletal remains of rose bushes, thick clusters of untamed hydrangeas, and patches of wild violets dotting the lawn.
My fingers itched to restore the grounds to their former glory, to resurrect the careful landscaping that had clearly been someone’s pride and joy.
As a landscaper, I could envision how the property had looked in its heyday, with manicured topiaries and neat brick-lined flower beds that would have perfectly complemented the home’s Victorian charm.
Just the idea of the project had my creative juices flowing.
But the moment I looked back at the house, my heart tripped into a gallop.
Not because I was usually nervous about client meetings—I did them all the time and had spent the past year doing them on my own—but because this one had come to us because of the article.
This would be the first one since Kellan’s return.
The first one since this whole engagement mess had started.
Since that kiss that had kept me tossing in my dreams last night.
“You’re already planning the whole restoration in your head, aren’t you?”
I jolted at the sound of Kellan’s voice. “I was, but now—” The words clogged in my throat. Now all I could think about was walking into that house, presenting ourselves as business partners who were also romantically involved. The lie settled like lead in my stomach.
Kellan laid a hand on my knee, his voice dropping. “We’ve done hundreds of these meetings. Nothing’s changed.”
Everything had changed. The warmth of his palm soaked through my jeans, shooting sparks up my leg. Which was crazy. He’d always been a physically affectionate guy. A casual hug here, a hand on the shoulder there. But this felt different. More intimate. More…everything.
And I wanted more.
That was the problem.
I couldn’t look at him without remembering how his lips had felt against mine, how his arms had wrapped around me in the high school parking lot. How was I supposed to go back to seeing him as just my best friend and business partner now? I couldn’t un-know any of that.
I jerked away, yanking the keys from the ignition. “We should go in.”
“Hey.” He caught my wrist before I could open the door. “Look at me.”
I turned, caught in those blue eyes I’d known most of my life, and felt my stomach flip.
“You’ve been running this business solo for a year. You’ve got this. We’ve got this.” His fingers slid down to tangle with mine. “Besides, what better way to sell ourselves than as the happy couple from the article?”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Then let me worry about that part.” He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “You focus on the actual consult.”
The gesture knocked the air from my lungs.
He’d done it at the cookout last night in front of our friends and family.
Now here he was doing it more or less in private.
He was getting way too into this role he was playing, and I was afraid of what the consequences for me would be when all this was over.
“Right.” I squeezed his hand and released it to slide out of the truck. But my skin still tingled from where he’d touched me. I curled my fingers into my palm, though whether it was to hold or erase the feeling, I didn’t know.
The front door swung open before we reached the porch steps. A woman in her seventies with elegantly coiffed silver hair emerged, her face lighting up. “You must be the Fox and Cavanaugh team from Mountain Laurel Landscaping. Oh, but I should say the future Mr. and Mrs. Fox!”
Oh, God. She’d seen the article in the local paper, too. Not just the feature in Southeastern Landscape Design Digest. My cheeks burned. I opened my mouth to say… something, but Kellan slid an arm around my waist, pulling me close.
“That’s right. Though she hasn’t decided if she wants to take my name.” He extended his free hand. “Kellan Fox, and this is my fiancée, Tate Cavanaugh.”
Mrs. Fairchild clasped both our hands in turn. “I was so touched by your story in the paper. Childhood sweethearts building a business together. And now engaged!”
Kellan grinned and laced his fingers with mine. “I’m a lucky man.”
I wanted to sink into the ground. Every word he spoke twisted the knife of guilt deeper.
Mrs. Fairchild gestured to the overgrown yard.
“My late husband, Charles, and I built these gardens together over forty years. After he passed two years ago, I just...couldn’t face maintaining them alone.
But when I saw your article, how you two share that same love of growing things together.
..” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I knew you’d understand what these gardens mean.
Not just any landscaping company would do. ”
The genuine emotion in her tone made my deception feel even worse. I swallowed hard. “We’re honored to be considered for the job.”
She tugged the cardigan she wore a little tighter around her. “Come. Let me show you around.”
Mrs. Fairchild led us along brick pathways choked with weeds, her silver hair gleaming in the late morning sun. “Charles planted these dogwoods for our tenth anniversary.” She paused beside the flowering trees. “He said they reminded him of our wedding day—all that pink and white.”
Kellan’s thumb traced circles on my palm as we walked, sending shivers up my arm. “Maybe we should plant something to mark our engagement.” He winked at me. “What do you think, sweets?”
Why was he bringing up our engagement when Mrs. Fairchild had let it go? The point was to focus on the client’s needs, not ours.
“Oh, you must!” Mrs. Fairchild clasped her hands together. “Charles and I marked every milestone in these gardens. Each plant tells a piece of our story.”
We rounded the corner to a pergola draped in wisteria vines.
The wooden structure had weathered to a soft silvery-gray, but the purple blooms still cascaded down in lush curtains, their sweet fragrance enveloping us.
I’d always loved wisteria—it was one of the first plants Kellan and I had bonded over as children.
Because we’d made our clubhouse in what amounted to a wisteria cave in the woods behind the houses where we’d grown up.
I’d always appreciated how it could transform simple structures into something magical.
“This is where he proposed.” Mrs. Fairchild’s eyes misted. “Right here under these flowers.”
Kellan pulled me closer, his arm sliding around my waist. “How did he ask?”
I shot him a look, but he just smiled and pressed a kiss to my temple. The casual intimacy made my heart stutter. Awareness prickled along my skin like gooseflesh, and I could feel every inch of where his body pressed to mine.
Mrs. Fairchild’s chuckle drew my attention back to her. “He didn’t actually get the words out. He was so nervous, he dropped the ring in the mulch. We spent half an hour searching for it on our hands and knees in the dark.”
“And you still said yes?” I don’t know why I asked. Obviously, she had.
“Oh honey, I’d known he was the one since we were kids. Some people are just meant to be part of your story.”
Kellan’s fingers tightened on my hip, and I found myself leaning into him, seeking his warmth. The scent of his soap mixed with the sweet perfume of wisteria made my head spin. Or maybe it was the way he looked at me—soft and fond and so convincing I almost believed it myself.
There was a part of me that wanted to believe that the kind of love Mrs. Fairchild described actually existed in the world.
For a moment, standing there in that garden full of love stories, I let myself imagine what it would be like if this wasn’t pretend.
If his touches weren’t just for show. If we really were meant to be part of each other’s stories as more than mere friends.
The thought scared the shit out of me. Because, in my experience, nothing in romantic relationships came easy.
I’d had crap examples from my parents growing up, and none of the boyfriends I’d had over the years had changed that expectation.
I didn’t want my friendship with Kellan to get screwed up by having expectations of more. He was too important for that.
Pulling myself together, I made myself smile at the older woman. “Well, let’s talk about what we can do to bring your love story back to life.”