Chapter 7
Bree
By Friday, Dalton, Bronco, and their men have replaced the water pipes.
They’ve worked to keep the water access going, often replacing the old pipes in the wee hours of the night so they’d minimize the number of residents affected by the disruption.
They finally finished the last pipe at three this morning, which means they can focus on repairing the damaged community room next.
Elaine is grateful for their help as her insurance company is trying to weasel out of paying the claim. Never mind that Elaine has faithfully paid her premiums for over two decades. Now, when she needs them, the insurance company is giving her the run around.
It’s late in the afternoon when I finish with my last patient of the day and quickly type up a few notes. Once I’m done with that, I got to the bathroom to freshen up then onto the reception area where Dalton is waiting for me.
The moment he sees me, his gaze lights up. My heart skips a beat at the appreciation and hunger on his face.
I squeeze my thighs together and remind myself that this is just a normal reaction to have because I’ve been single for so long.
It’s been a long dry spell. I absolutely did not take extra time putting on makeup, doing my hair, and choosing my cutest scrubs, the ones that bring out the blue in my eyes. I definitely didn’t do all of that.
He holds out his hand, a dark wicker basket looped around his other arm. “Shall we go?”
I take his hand, and sparks skitter across my skin the moment we touch. He’s big, gruff, and bearded. He’s not my usual type, but there’s something about him that makes me feel safe and trustworthy.
As soon as I think of the word trustworthy, I cringe. I was wrong last time. Maybe I’m wrong again.
Dalton puts a hand on my hip and gives me a slight squeeze through my scrubs. The heat feels like a brand. He points to a spot in the sidewalk as we walk around the side of the building. “Watch your step.”
I realize I would have tripped without him and adjust my gait. That’s when I remember what I’m supposed to be out here doing. I should be taking notes on how we can make the spring event accessible for all of the residents, not here to moon over my cute co-worker who makes my heart beat so fast.
“Thanks,” I murmur, but my face is hot, and I drop my gaze. I busy myself with the smartphone and stylus I brought and make a note about that spot.
“I figured I would show you around the entire grounds, and you can pick the best spot for the dance, since you know what the residents need,” Dalton says.
I make notes as we go. It takes us over an hour to walk the grounds with my boot slowing us down. Dalton never complains or loses patience. He takes it in stride.
The only time he gets stern is when his German Shepherds come bounding up to me. One of them goes on his hindlegs like he’s about to put his paws on my shoulders, but Dalton is quick to utter a command.
The dog obeys without hesitation, dropping down to all fours again and giving his dad a repentant look as if to explain he only wanted to play with a new friend.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “They’re enthusiastic. I can work them from sun up until sundown, and they still have boundless energy. The one that’s trying to jump you is Max, and that guy is Rex. They’re my boys. Help me keep this place squared away.”
I drop to my knees, going down awkwardly with my boot. But I don’t care about getting dirt on my scrubs. Both of them come to me easily, showering me with doggy kisses as I stroke their fur and murmur to them about how pretty they are.
Max seems to glow under my praise, shooting Dalton a look almost as if to say, “See? She likes me.”
“Okay, get gone with you,” Dalton finally tells the dogs just as the sky rumbles overhead.
“They have a nice little shelter on the other side of the lawn. Keeps them out of the elements when the summer heat gets too bad. We’re almost to the spot I was thinking of for the tents. Are you still good to walk?”
I manage to get to my feet with a hand from Dalton, and I give him a nod. Even though my leg is throbbing again, I’m not going to complain. The residents are excited about this dance being held outside, and the possibility that Bronco and his friends are building dance floors. “Lead the way.”
We walk for a little while longer. I had no idea the grounds of the Wildflower Community Center were so expansive. My respect for Dalton grows even more as I realize how hard he must work.
Finally, he stops and gestures around a big expanse of lush green grass.
“We’re close enough to trees that they’ll provide some shade and also near enough the building that the walk shouldn’t be too hard.
I figured we could put the tents here. Elaine has already approved the budget to rent a few of them.
Plus, Bronco and his men will help set them up. ”
“Bronco seems like a good friend of yours,” I say as I make a note on my phone about preparing a temporary walkway that won’t harm the grass.
“Bronco was there for me after I got out of the service. He’s been there for a lot of guys.
That’s why he runs the ranch, so veterans have a place to come home to.
They can stay for as long as they need while they get their feet back under them.
” He grins then and shrugs. “What do you think about this space? Should we use it for the spring dance?”
I nod before I gesture to my phone. “I have a few ideas on how we can make it safe and accessible for everyone so the residents have a great time.”
“I’d love to hear about them over dinner. I brought some food with me. We can discuss it now if you’re up for it.” He holds up the wicker basket.
“Do you normally carry around your dinner in a picnic basket like that?” He must have planned this, and I can’t deny that it puts butterflies in my stomach to think about that.
He gives me a grin with a boyish charm. “Absolutely. I always pack a huge dinner in a large wicker basket then spend the day carrying it with me.”
I can’t help laughing. “I think you’re lying.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I am, but the food is good.”
“Where will we eat?”
“Come on, I’ll show you,” he says and takes my hand. He leads me to a cluster of three tables set in the back of the property, behind a hedge. It’s like we’re in our own little world here.
I settle at one of the tables, grateful to be off of my throbbing leg.
Dalton grabs a chair from the other table and sets it across from me. “You’re supposed to keep your leg elevated when you’re off of it.”
Then he opens the huge picnic basket and produces a throw pillow. He puts it on the chair and gently lifts my leg, so it’s comfortable for me to rest it.
I give him a slight grimace, thankful for his concern and loving how gentle he is despite his big stature.
He takes a seat across from me and unpacks the food.
I glance down at the spread appreciatively.
I take a deep breath, the scent of the food and honeysuckle mingling together, and I can’t help giving him a soft smile.
“I love the smell of honeysuckle in the spring. There’s nothing better than it.
You’ve made the whole garden smell so good.
There are gardenias and lilies and honeysuckle. This place is beautiful.”
He passes me a fork and says softly, “Eat.”
I accept the fork and take my first bite and moan appreciatively. Heat flares in Dalton’s gaze before he drops his attention back to his own plate.
“Honeysuckle is my favorite too,” he says softly. “I never paid much attention to flowers until my grandma.”
He pauses there and swallows hard. “She raised me after the death of my parents. But when I was in high school, she started having problems. At first it was silly things, forgetting appointments and wandering around the house with two different slippers on. By the time I realized something was really wrong, her dementia was pretty advanced.”
My heart twists for her.
He gives me a soft smile. “She would often put on her housecoat and try to go to work. She used to run a huge nursery with dozens of employees. She never lost her appreciation for working with flowers. I built her a greenhouse in the backyard. It let her go to work again, and that’s where she spent her last years, happy and free in the greenhouse I’d built. ”
“So you became her caretaker as a teenager?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers. “She took care of me as a kid, and I got the opportunity to take care of her as she aged. Her particular form of dementia was brutal but quick.”
He looks away for a moment, blinking rapidly before turning his gaze back to me.
“In a weird way, it felt like a sort of mercy. The fact that it was so fast. She declined within just a couple of years, and then she was gone right after I graduated high school. Like some part of her had been holding on for all those years, just long enough to see me make my way into the world.”
I reach out and take his strong warm hand in mine, wanting to give him comfort. “I can’t imagine how difficult that was.”
“I realized after that I was alone in the world. I didn’t want to be, so I joined the military. The idea of having a brotherhood, a family around me, it saved me and kept me going.”
“That must have taken so much strength,” I say.
He shrugs, looking embarrassed and quickly changes the subject. “What about you? What was your life like? What are your parents like?”
I frown. “Well, they kind of didn’t care much for me.
My dad is a workaholic, and my mom had a kid just to make him happy.
She told me that once.” My voice wobbles after the confession.
It shouldn’t still hurt. The acknowledgement that she never really wanted me, that I was simply a box she checked to make sure she lived the perfect life.
It’s his turn to squeeze my hand now. “I’m sorry.”