8. Bloomed
EIGHT
Bloomed
SAGE
“With any luck, we’ll have this display ready before the morning rush,” Harper exclaimed from the top of the step stool, pencil tucked behind her ear, trying to make sure the top shelf was level before attaching it.
She had the spunk of a woman who’d already decided this plan of hers was going to go well this holiday season.
I, on the other hand, was a ball of nerves. Pam would arrive at the Copper Cup soon for her order of lavender bath oil, and I still had no idea what to charge.
Earlier this morning, I’d poured a new batch into glass bottles—the recipe I’d infused with dried rosemary and a little lemon zest. The bottles were from the hardware store down the street, cork-stoppered and clean-lined.
I’d cut squares of craft paper for the labels and written each ingredient in my neatest handwriting, then tied a sprig of dried rosemary under the twine.
Making things look cute was half the battle, according to Ivy, who’d stopped in earlier to survey my finished products.
Now they sat behind the counter waiting for Pam, plus a few extra bottles for Harper’s new display of Christmas gift ideas. Numbers had never been my thing. Words were. But here I was, trying to turn a hobby into something real.
Give me a blank page or journal, and I could fill it with words.
The ability to write beautiful, thoughtful things came from my father.
I’d even attempted to create a fun blog of sorts earlier this fall when Ivy and the Chamber of Commerce sponsored Cowboy Nights at the Sapphire Saloon, hoping to attract more young people to the area so our little town could grow.
I called it the Forest Grove Gossip Gal, mostly reporting on the town gossip and things I’d observed about the various couples forming after each Cowboy Night, even about my own sisters’ love lives.
It had caused quite a stir in town, with people talking about what I’d written as if it were gospel.
Of course, I’d written it anonymously so no-one was the wiser that it was me, and I had posted it free around town.
It never occurred to me to sell anything I’d made.
“There. All set. This will be a hit, this season, trust me.” Harper stepped down and observed our work. With a satisfied nod, she reached into the boxes and started lining up the products for sale.
One by one, we arranged ornaments, candles, my bottles of bath oil, and various other items for sale.
“How did you pull everything together so fast?” I asked.
“I swear, Gavin knows everyone.” She said it fondly, the way she said most things about her husband, even a little amused, and not making a big deal that he was the county sheriff.
“He’s dropped the word around everywhere since Sunday, at the feed store, the post office, the grocery store, all his deputies, of course, anyone he could talk to from here to Lewistown.
Local artists all called me before I could even purchase shelves. ”
“The perks of living in a small town,” I chuckled.
We added my bottles, and then beeswax candles and ornaments before the bell over the door rang.
Two couples entered, and soon the rotation of ranchers and shopkeepers and townspeople stopped through on their way somewhere else.
The morning swallowed us both for a while, ending our progress on the display, but at least it was a start.
I finally had a moment to breathe between customers, and started in on the tangle of Christmas lights Harper wanted attached to each shelf when the door chime rang again, but not the quick single ring of someone slipping in alone, the held-open sound of a group.
I flashed a smile, seeing Ash came in first, taking in the room in one unhurried pass the way he always did. Colt was behind him, then Jake.
My traitorous heart flipped when Carter entered last. Even unshaven and tired, he filled the doorway in a way that made the busy café feel smaller. I spun back to the shelf, heart hammering, pretending to straighten an ornament that was already perfectly straight.
Harper materialized at my elbow, her voice dropping to the register that only reached me. “Is that the new cowboy from the ranch?”
“I don’t know. Several cowboys from the ranch came in.” I shrugged.
“You know very well which one I mean.”
I did, and I regretted, not for the first time this week, having given her the full account of the barn dance and my situation with Carter.
I adjusted the handmade tag on my product.
Behind me, I knew the men had taken the table by the window, draped their coats on their chairs, and were ready for hot coffee and pastries.
Everyone knew full well Eldon fed the guys at sunrise with a breakfast buffet any hotel would be jealous of, but they still stopped here for coffee and a snack anytime they had to leave the ranch on errands.
I peeked at them once, flashing my eyes over my shoulder.
Ash perused the menu board, but I knew full well he’d order his usual.
Jake said something, and Colt laughed. Carter sat, impossibly more handsome, more unshaven, staring out at the street with the quiet, tired look of someone who’d worked hard and needed a nap. Or two.
“Come in the back with me,” Harper demanded, touching my elbow.
“I’m finishing the display?—”
“Sixty seconds.” She steered me through the kitchen door.
I tucked my hands into my apron pockets and waited.
“What are you going to do about Carter?”
“Nothing.” I kept my voice even. “He told me himself he’s not staying. Those were his words.”
Harper raised her eyebrows. “Give him a reason to stay.”
“Harper, stop. Please.”
“Look at him.” She turned me firmly toward the pass-through window that looked over the front of the café.
I didn’t want to look at Carter, but of all the people in the shop, my eyes floated to the different cowboy. Couldn’t help it.
“He said he’s leaving in a month,” I reminded her.
“Men say a lot of things.” Harper reached around me and adjusted my neckline lower with one firm tug at the hem of my shirt.
“Hey!” Good thing I wore my best push-up bra today. Then she pulled the ponytail holder from my hair and ran her fingers through to fluff my locks.
“Men also change their minds when easily swayed to do so,” she chuckled.
“I swear, if you don’t stop?—”
“Our customers need fill-ups. Wouldn’t want to make any of them unhappy now.” She pressed the carafe handle into my hands, and conveniently the oven timer went off. “Oh, I must get the muffins out.”
I sighed and stood in the kitchen doorway for three full seconds, reminding myself I was a grown woman who could handle this. Then I went out front and absolutely did not handle it.
I topped off the table by the door, stopped to talk with a woman about her daughter’s wedding, and slowly made my way toward the men at the window table in the professional manner of someone who hadn’t been thinking about this for the past five minutes.
“Hi guys. Coffees all around?” I asked nonchalantly, keeping my eyes on the tabletop.
“None for me.” Colt covered his mug.
Jake slid his forward, winking up at me.
Ash said, “Yes, please.”
I filled theirs and waited until finally I raised my eyes to Carter’s. He was already staring at me—and pushed his mug forward.
“I’ll take some. Thank you, Sage.” Oof, that damn, deep voice of his saying my name—driving a thrill through my body and landing at the apex of my thighs.
Ignoring my screaming loins, I filled the mug and asked Ash about their plans for the day. ”Heading somewhere?”
“Picking up a few horses, up past Timberline. Two mares and a gelding. The owner passed away last month, and the family can’t keep them,” he answered—when I heard a creak behind me.
More specifically, the sound of our new shelves leaning to the right several inches, and the products almost sliding off.
I left the pot on their table and ran to catch it. Somehow, Carter was faster, breezing past me. He braced both palms flat against the side panel before everything made it to the edge, stopping the lean and holding everything still.
Jake’s chair scraped back, and he was through the door in a flash yelling, “I got a drill in the truck. Be right back.”
“Do you have it under control over there?” Ash called.
“Yes, sir.” Carter held the unit still, not straining, while I quickly removed each of the items and set them on the nearest table.
He inspected how the shelves were barely holding up. “Cheap dollar-store shelves.”
Should I take offense at that?
“Budget hardware. There’s a difference,” I smirked.
“Not much of one when it all comes tumbling down,” he snorted.
What a snob? “Not everyone has money to spend on nice things. Plus, this all came together so fast, Harper had to buy the only set of shelves she could find in town.”
Carter went still, and his gaze cut to me, quick and direct.
“Okay, but were these shelves anchored or just resting?” His expression was more amused than I was at the moment.
“I don’t know.”
“If you’re going to display products, they deserve something that doesn’t move.” His voice had shifted register, becoming more careful. “Properly fixed to the wall. Not just resting and hoping.”
“Something permanently affixed, you’re saying?” I cocked a brow.
“That’s what I mean.”
“Interesting, coming from a man whose current situation is temporary,” I sassed back.
He sputtered and almost lost his grip on the cheap piece of furniture. One of my bottles of oil had a mind of its own, migrating dangerously close to the edge.
We both reached for the bottle at the same time. My hand landed over his. The heat of his skin against mine sent a jolt straight through me. For a long second neither of us moved. His breath feathered across my forehead, and when our eyes met, I saw the same hunger I was trying—and failing—to hide.
The café kept humming around us, but in that moment it felt like only the two of us existed.