Chapter 2
Today I learned that you can get sick of anything if you’re around it too much, even good things, like chocolate.
Peeling off my gloves and tossing them in the waste basket, I sink down onto a bag of flour, powder temporarily clouding around me.
Tipping my head against the cooler door, I let out a long sigh.
“I don’t know how she does this,” I say aloud, talking to no one because my sister wasn’t kidding when she says she really does all of the prep by herself.
She couldn’t be here today, because of an appointment for her foot, so I really fulfilled her role, even though she’s going to try to help as much as she can.
Today I started work on the confections for the Eggstravaganza, specifically, on the chocolate eggs.
I have another day left of making eggs before I can move onto petit fours, then dying the real eggs.
Then there’s stuffing plastic eggs for Carrot Creek’s kids, who all participate in the hopping contest after the egg hunt.
Tables need to be set up, banners need to be made and hung, signs need to be strewn, invites delivered—you name it and it likely needs to be done.
I haven’t thought about Jared since yesterday, and that’s more than I can say for all of the days in the prior two months.
So far, my sister has been right—Carrot Creek is curing my heartache.
When she first told me—no, promised me—that my heart would be full again from coming here, I nodded and smiled, while internally rolling my eyes at the Hallmark concept that a small town and a holiday would cure all my issues.
Now, though, after a long day of cooking delicious Easter treats, I’m beginning to wonder if there is some sort of magic in places like these.
“How’d it go?” my sister asks, a drained carrot juice sitting beside her, pulp remnants clinging to the walls of the glass. Her Kindle rests in her lap, screen lit, incredible romance with lots of spice and great banter no doubt filling the screen.
I drop my purse on the floor, a rush of chocolate hitting my nose. I love chocolate, but my word. “I made 500 chocolate eggs and 500 chocolate bunnies and I think my bloodstream is now butter and sugar.”
She juts her bottom lip out in an empathetic pout. “I know. But I promise, you’ll stop smelling like it… in a few weeks.”
“Weeks?” I balk, slipping out of my shoes and shrugging out of my coat. There’s a breeze in Carrot Creek, and I wore my jacket this morning to keep me from getting a cold. Treading across the room, I sink into the couch next to her, and eye her book.
“Whatcha readin’?”
“Fated mates. She’s destined to be his.” She thrusts her eyebrows up, wagging them at me. “Lots of inconvenient boners.”
“Those are my favorite kind,” I deadpan, leaning forward to peek at her bum foot.
“Don’t!” she rushes out, sitting up to swat my hand away. “I just got the bandage comfortable,” she clarifies, “and it took forever.”
“Alright, alright.” Getting to my feet, I cross the room, and brace a hand on the doorframe, facing my sister. “If you’re hungry, I can make us something to eat after my shower. Though I can’t promise it won’t taste like chocolate. I think it’s oozing from my pores.”
Chelsey’s gaze drifts past me, unfocused, already halfway out the window.
I turn, following her line of sight. There he is again, her smalltown neighbor, in all his unfairly sculpted glory.
He’s a total hunk, with a tool belt slung low on narrow hips, chambray work shirt sleeves shoved to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair.
His own dark waves are mussed from the wind and a long day’s labor, sticking slightly to his temples with sweat.
“I saw him yesterday, your neighbor,” I confess, the words slipping out before I can catch them. We both stare like we’ve forgotten how to blink, like he’s the carrot, and we’re two very hungry bunnies.
Chelsey lets out a sigh so dramatic it ruffles my hair from three feet away.
“My neighbor. Jack Hopper. Carrot Creek’s handyman extraordinaire.
” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I’ve been known to sabotage my own plumbing just to get him over here.
Clogged sink, busted showerhead, mysteriously chipped tile… guilty on all counts.”
“Chels!” I half-laugh, half-gasp, swatting her arm. “That’s diabolical.”
She grins, unrepentant. “He smells even better than he looks. Sawdust and clean sweat and something woodsy that should come with a warning label.”
My fingers move of their own accord, walking across the cool glass, tracing the hard sweep of his back as he drives the shovel deep into the earth. Broad shoulders flex, the cotton of his shirt pulling taut, every line of him defining strength clearly earned the hard way.
“You’re doing the movie thing,” Chelsey teases, nodding at my hand on the window. “The dramatic fingertip press against the photo of the unattainable man.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I yank my hand back like the glass burned me.
She’s not wrong.
I haven’t looked at any man since Jared.
They’ve all blurred into background noise, safe and forgettable.
Until this guy. What did Chelsey say his name is?
Jack Hopper? Jack Hopper, the man who has twice now stopped me cold, once shirtless and glistening in the sun, now like this, sleeves rolled, tool belt riding low, every movement deliberate and oozing strength.
“I swear,” I murmur, finally dragging my eyes away from the window and the man planting carrots like it’s the most personal thing in the world. “I thought my libido was on permanent hiatus. Turns out all it needed was a hot handyman with a shovel.”
Chelsey bumps my shoulder, her smile soft now, knowing. “Welcome back to the land of hot men tempting smart women, Esther.”
Outside, Jack straightens, wipes his forearm across his brow, and glances toward our cottage. For one electric second, our eyes might meet through the glass.
My heart stutters.
Maybe the country air isn’t the only thing waking me up.
After a lovely dinner, my sister and I go through the mail I’ve received since Carrot Creek heard I’m here.
They’re so pleased to know their favorite festival is still going to happen, and it made me so happy to learn that my sister’s celebration was so special to so many people, and that I was special to them, too.
After reading what had to be one hundred letters, I help my sister get to her room, charged Kindle in hand, and return to my own lovely little bedroom.
When I got here, I was afraid I’d only partially be able to bring this Eggstravaganza to life, that I’d be moping and mostly frustrating to my sister.
But after my first day in the community kitchen, I feel good.
I know I can do this, I know I can save this festival and make my sister proud, and be there for her in ways I never have been able to since she moved to Carrot Creek.
Wet hair twisted into a towel, another towel folded over my breasts, I flip the light off in the bathroom, stepping into the bedroom.
After a moment of fumbling for the light switch, my eyes land on the window, curtains still pulled wide open from yesterday.
Night has eaten up the traces of evening, leaving a purplish blue sky full of twinkling stars, fog hovering over the dark, luscious lawns.
Carrot Creek really is beautiful, and I understand my sister’s choice more and more the longer I’m here.
The moment I find the lightswitch, my eyes land on something.
I keep the light off and edge toward the window’s sill, placing a hand on the chilled glass as I narrow my gaze. “Is that?” I don’t finish my own question, because I don’t exactly know how. The same way I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at because… “that can’t be, can it?”
The furry figure shifts, and a white cotton tail nearly the size of my head pokes out from its rump, and I realize… “Oh my god.” I bring my hand to my mouth, trying to capture the gasp that comes from realizing that there is a huge bunny absolutely ravaging Jack’s carrot garden.
And when I say huge, I mean absolutely monstrous.
His hind legs intimidate me, and my stomach clenches when the oversized bunny lifts his head, paws overflowing with carrots, dirt smeared through his white hair, around his mouth and up his arms. Around his neck, a gold chain, tangled in the fuzz.
“Oh,” I breathe, relieved that this massive bunny is clearly Jack Hopper’s pet, since it’s wearing some sort of collar.
I bring a hand to my chest, pushing out a relieved sigh.
But the big bunny’s eyes suddenly lock to mine in the darkness, through the glass, and they immediately set me on edge.
This bunny has extremely human looking eyes. I narrow my own gaze but the oversized pet winks at me, then in two huge, swift hops, he disappears into the long brush along the side of the house.
That bunny… winked at me?
Bunnies can’t wink.
Can they?
I don’t know, actually, if they can. I mean, I’d think they can’t because winking is an expression, and that seems uniquely human.
Then again, dogs and cats can express things, like altering their barks and meows to let their humans know of specific needs.
I close the curtains and flick the bedroom light on, sinking onto the edge of the bed.
I guess rabbits could wink. I mean, of course they can, I just saw this bunny wink. It’s not like I witnessed the only bunny in the free world who can wink. Of course not.
Combing my hair, my mind is stuck on the oversized pet.
It’s cold tonight in Carrot Creek, not freezing but not that far from it.
The handyman may be a damn hunk, but making your pet sleep outside when it’s this cold?
That’s just inhumane. I get that the bunny is really big but who takes in a giant ragdoll without the ability to keep it housed? That’s just cruel.
After blow drying my hair and lotioning my body with my sister’s designer Cad Berreigh products, I slip into bed and tug my eye mask down.
But I can’t stop thinking about the poor big boy out there, cold and alone.
Sliding my feet into slippers, I tug my bathrobe on and trudge through the dark house, straight out the front door to Jack’s.
Traipsing through his yard, I make my way to his front door.
The porch light is off— “what a jerk,” I think aloud, because it’s one thing to leave your big bunny outside, and quite another to leave him in the dark.
Knocking loudly three times, back to back, I stand there and wait.
Amidst readying my lecture in my head, the door opens and my jaw hits my toes when a barely covered Jack Hopper answers, sweat on his forehead, a towel slung around his waist, bunny slippers on his feet, gold chain around his neck.
One that matches big bunny’s. Oh it’s definitely his pet.
“Hi,” he greets, his voice much deeper than I expected, so deep that I feel it rumbling between my legs.
“Uh, hi,” I begin, already thrown off my axis from the hunky state of this man.
“Can I help you?” he asks, a rivulet of water curving between his pecs, making the delicious journey down his abs, sinking into his towel. I watched it go, the entire trip. “My eyes are up here,” he says, and I find a teasing smirk curving his mouth.
“I–look, I’m here because it’s inhumane to keep your pet bunny outside.
It’s cold tonight, and he needs to be inside, even if it’s just a barn or garage.
” He blinks at me, and even though it looks like he just got out of the shower, I noticed a smudge of earth along his forehead, and some of that same dirt smeared along his forearm.
Still, I stay focused since I was already called out on completely, utterly, and shamelessly checking him out.
“That’s animal cruelty, sir, and I demand that you bring him inside immediately! ”
Jack’s lips twitch, and a smile curves them. “Will do,” he says, but I’m already stomping away in righteous indignation, my pulse hammering, an insane heat blooming between my legs.
I don’t peek out the window to see if the big bunny is outside or in, and instead, slip back into bed and squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to forget Jack Hopper and his glistening abs.
I’m here for the Eggstravaganza, not a fling.