Chapter 25
MIRANDA
Later that evening, after the costume contest and pie-eating contest (her personal favorite), Miranda had returned home, changed, and was waiting for Pete and Elise to pick her up for the farm-to-table dinner.
The event was taking place at Banner Farms, just on the outskirts of town.
A soft knock sounded on her front door. Pete and Elise never knocked.
They both had keys. Their cottages were adjacent with a small shared yard between them.
“Come in, it’s open,” she called, giving her appearance a final check in the hallway mirror.
She had tied her hair into a messy bun and dusted her cheeks with an iridescent powder Elise had given her for her birthday.
She’d added a pair of silver dangling earrings and dressed in layers.
Once the sun set, it would get cold, or at least California cold.
She opted for a pair of jeans, boots, an ombre turtleneck sweater, and a matching coffee-colored shawl.
The knock sounded again.
Miranda went to the door, expecting to see Pete or her niece.
Instead, Jim stood on her porch with a bundle of chocolate, saffron, and vivid yellow sunflowers tied with a burlap ribbon.
He had changed, too. He was dressed for an evening outside in a pair of slacks, a black-and-gray flannel, and a black fleece vest. Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him.
His distinguished jawline. That salt-and-pepper beard and hair.
He even smelled good—like cedarwood and spice.
“I heard you might need a ride,” he said, thrusting the bouquet at her. “These are for you. An apology. I’m sorry about how everything went down with the video. I never would have put Pete in the middle. I hope you know that.”
“Uh, yeah, thank you. The flowers are lovely.” Miranda fumbled over her words, feeling tongue-tied.
She stood in the entryway staring at the flowers, holding her hand over her stomach to stop it from rumbling.
She was nervous now. She wanted to trust him, but she needed to establish some clearer boundaries.
“I will admit I was upset earlier, but Pete reminded me yet again that he’s an adult and can make his own decisions.
I forget that sometimes, and I go into Mama Bear mode.
But I do think it would be helpful if we take a beat.
This is all new to me, and I want to make sure I’m thinking things through properly. ”
“Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” Jim bobbed his head in agreement.
“That’s on me. I was excited to get the campaign up and running, and the parade was loud and busy.
I should have waited and had you take a better look.
I swear, I did not have an ulterior motive.
I thought it was a sweet mom-moment, that’s all.
But it won’t happen again. I promise.” Jim took a step back, as if he were about to retreat. “Sorry, am I imposing?”
“No, no, not at all. Please, come in.” Miranda moved to make room for him. “I thought you were Pete and Elise. They’re supposed to be picking me up.”
“About that. Slight change in plans.” Jim waited for her to close the door. “They’re doing some reconnaissance, so I gallantly offered to be your chauffeur if you’ll have me.”
“How very gracious of you.” Miranda laughed as she moved toward the kitchen to get a vase for the flowers.
“Let me put these in some water.” She encouraged him to follow her to the kitchen, where she stood on her tiptoes to reach a vase on one of the open shelves next to her farm-style sink.
The kitchen was her favorite room in the cottage, with its butcher-block island, open shelving, and scuffed hardwood floors.
For fall, Miranda had decorated by hanging wreaths Elise had made with dried leaves and flowers from the garden over the windows.
“Here, let me get one down for you,” Jim offered. “You have quite the collection.”
“It comes with owning a boutique grocery store, and I like to dabble in gardening.” She gestured toward the glass door that led to the back garden. “Elise is the real floral artist. She designs all the bouquets we make in the shop.”
“What’s your fancy?” Jim asked, running his hand along the shelf like he was showcasing his wares. “Have you collected these over a long time?”
“Yes, although not intentionally. It began with finding a hand-painted ceramic vase and adding fresh daisies and spring roses. I always like flowers in the shop. Once Elise joined us, she took over that piece. Customers began commenting on her creations, and then started bringing vases. That one is blown glass from an artist in Seattle, and the pale pink next to it was a gift from a friend who found it at a flea market in Paris. If you think this is a lot of vases, you should see Elise’s collection. ”
“I’m suddenly self-conscious of my flowers,” Jim said, a smile playing at his lips. “It sounds like I’m surrounded by real floral experts.”
“Not at all.” Miranda unwrapped the brown craft paper and twine from the sunflowers. “These are perfect. How did you know sunflowers are my favorite?”
“Are they?” Jim studied her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Or are you just saying that to be nice?”
“I promise.” Miranda made an X over her chest and rested the sunflowers on the butcher-block counter.
“I think they’ll look perfect in that cream pitcher.
” She pointed it out to Jim. He removed it from the shelf and came to stand next to her.
She could smell his cologne and feel heat radiating from his body.
“Thanks,” she managed to mumble as their hands brushed.
To Miranda’s disappointment, he moved away and peered out the door. “So this is the famous garden? You have a green thumb.”
“I don’t know about that.” She ran water in the vase and snipped the edges of the sunflower stalks with a pair of kitchen shears before arranging them in the pitcher.
Then she placed it in the center of the island.
“It’s a few garden boxes—herbs, perennials, strawberries, tomatoes, that sort of thing.
We’re lucky in that this is such a rich growing area.
You don’t need a green thumb in Half Moon Bay. ”
“Says the Green Grocer.” Jim winked.
“Green is my color.” Miranda wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Don’t let the brown fool you.”
“You look lovely.” Jim’s voice took on a gravelly quality. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Miranda ignored the pounding in her chest and smiled. “You’re a charmer.”
“Me?” He tapped his shoulders in mock surprise. “Hardly. You should talk to my nieces. They’ll tell you otherwise.”
“How old are your nieces?” Miranda asked, rearranging one of the dark brown sunflowers. She was glad to have something to do with her hands because she couldn’t stop picturing them running through his hair or caressing his solid arms.
“Thirteen and fifteen. They’re brutally honest, and it turns out I’m no longer the cool uncle I used to be.
To think I spent years letting them paint my nails and put glitter all over my face.
For what? Now, if my sister or brother-in-law needs me to pick them up from school, they make me park blocks away, because apparently anyone over the age of sixteen is ‘cringe.’”
Miranda laughed. “Don’t worry. This phase won’t last long. They’ll outgrow it quickly, and you’ll be the cool uncle again.”
“I don’t know.” Jim bit his bottom lip and winced. “They’re tough critics. They’ve been giving me fashion advice and certainly wouldn’t approve of my ‘fit’ tonight. I’ve got the teen girl lingo down, but I have zero street cred with them.”
“You speak teen effortlessly.” Miranda wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Do you have kids of your own?”
“No.” Jim shook his head. “Just the nieces. I was married once, but it didn’t work out.
So I’m solidly in uncle status. It’s been fun to get to be a bigger part of my nieces’ lives.
What about you? I know from the profile you submitted to Voyager that you’re single now, but were you ever married?
” He paused and held up both hands. “Please stop me if you don’t want to talk about it.
I’m so curious about people, and I genuinely love hearing personal stories, but my nieces tell me I can have a tendency to overshare or come across like a pushy journalist. That’s not my intention. ”
“You’re giving me the shakedown for a breaking news exposé, aren’t you?” she teased. The fact that he was self-aware and self-effacing made him even more endearing, but she needed to remember this was a job for him. Not a date.
“That’s right. Voyager is my cover. Or is it?” He pressed his index finger to the side of his mouth mysteriously.
“I’m an open book,” Miranda said. “I’ve never been married. It’s only been Pete and me. His father was never in the picture or involved. But like you, I’m close with my brother and his wife, and of course, Elise. Aren’t nieces wonderful?”
“They are, until they shuffle around with their AirPods glued to their ears and their phones in front of their faces. I mean, how can I compete with nonstop texting with their friends? I’m a relic comparatively.
” Jim made a goofy face. “Speaking of nieces and Elise, I suppose we should probably get moving. I promised to deliver you on time, and I do not take that duty lightly.” He extended his hand. “Shall we?”
Miranda felt a jolt the minute their hands touched, like an electric current running up her arm.
Everything about Jim was so easy and unexpected.
He was handsome, funny, smart, and obviously, his nieces adored him.
She kept having to remind herself that the flowers and all the “get to know you” questions were part of his job.
He was getting paid for this. She couldn’t let herself fall for him.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was already too late for that.