Chapter Eight
T he moment Callie shut the door to her office, silence rushed in to fill the space.
She stared at the corner of her desk, eyes unfocused, the name Duke Carver still echoing in her ears like a leftover storm warning.
She’d known of him, of course. Everyone in this part of Texas had.
Real estate shark. Deal maker. Deal breaker.
The kind of man who made things happen, often by force of will—or by making people uncomfortable enough to fold.
He’d been dead for more than a month now, and still, somehow, his name had managed to slither into her life.
She rubbed her hands down her arms, trying to chase away the chill that had settled there.
Her grandfather used to say that when snakes died, sometimes the tail still twitched.
Apparently, this one had a long reach.
“You okay?” Matthew’s voice came from across the room, low, steady, grounding.
She didn’t answer right away. Callie leaned back in her chair and let the ceiling fan stir her hair while she stared at nothing. Finally, she blew out a breath and sat forward, elbows on her desk.
“Yeah,” she said. “Just didn’t expect that name to show up. Not here.”
Matthew stood by the filing cabinet, arms crossed, watching her as if he was taking stock of more than her words. “Could be unfinished business. Or someone using his name to stir the pot.”
She nodded, the thought already lodged in her brain like a burr. “Or maybe both.”
The nursery wasn’t some backdoor deal waiting to happen. It was soil and sunlight and sweat. Generations of it. But the second Duke Carver’s name got whispered anywhere near her property, everything started to feel…off.
“I don’t want his name dragging this place into something ugly,” she said, quieter now.
Matthew didn’t say she was overthinking it. He didn’t offer a placating shrug or tell her not to worry. He simply said, “Then we get ahead of it.”
She appreciated that more than he probably realized.
With a sigh, she reached for her phone and typed out a quick message to her sister.
Hey. Heads up. Something weird came up this morning. I’ll fill you in later. Nothing to worry about yet.
She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen, then hit Send.
No need to panic Maggie yet. Although, if this turned into more than a twitching tail, her sister would want to know.
Callie stood, shoved her phone in her pocket, and looked at Matthew. “Let’s go check by the greenhouses. I need to move.”
He gave a small nod, already pushing away from the wall. “Lead the way.”
They wandered slowly through the landscaped demo area near the greenhouses, a quieter space bordered by flagstone paths and terraced flowerbeds that showed off some of their best shade plants.
Callie had designed the layout with her grandfather years ago, trying to strike a balance between beauty and practicality.
A reminder of what was possible with good soil and steady hands.
Now, it felt like a calm corner in an uncertain storm.
One of the greenhouses glinted ahead, its panels catching the afternoon sun. The tension gripping her shoulders since Carter’s call began to ease, not because the threat had disappeared, but because walking helped. Being out here helped.
So did the man beside her.
Matthew walked with that same quiet awareness he always carried. He hadn’t said much since they left the office. He didn’t need to. His presence alone helped settle the noise in her head.
Sammy had flopped beneath the nearby birdbath, tongue lolling, completely uninterested in the world’s problems.
Must be nice.
They passed the blue salvia, and instinct made her reach out. Her fingers brushed his arm. “This…” she murmured, nodding toward the golden yarrow paired beside it. “One of my grandfather’s favorite combos. Said contrast made things stronger.”
Her hand stayed longer than it should have. She felt the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sleeve before she released him.
“That true for people too?” he asked.
She tilted her head, watching the way the salvia caught the light. “Sometimes,” she said. “Other times, contrast makes you tired.”
His quiet huff of breath could’ve been amusement or agreement.
Either way fit.
The wind tugged at the hem of her shirt as they moved on. Slower now. The kind of pace that invited words you wouldn’t say anywhere else.
“So why this place?” he asked. “Why stay?”
Callie kept her gaze forward, past the line of cedars that flanked the stone path. That was a layered question. She peeled it back carefully.
“Because it’s in my blood,” she said. “My grandfather built it. My dad kept it going. They both passed it down without ever saying the words. At some point, they showed me how to care for it. Like it was a person. Like it mattered.” She inhaled and released it slowly. “And it does.”
Matthew nodded once, his profile still and thoughtful. “You talk about them like they’re still here.”
“Some days it feels that way,” she said, warm memories tugging a smile to her lips.
“I envy you that,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know my dad. He left my mom when I was two.”
Unable to fathom not having her father and grandfather in her life, Callie’s heart squeezed hard in her chest. They’d been her rocks. Her guiding lights.
Her life no doubt would’ve turned out very differently.
Unbeknownst to him, his loss put hers into perspective. Yes, she still grieved for her father, but she noted how blessed she’d been to have him in her life.
By the time they’d reached a clearing near the greenhouse, she got her emotions under control. Mostly.
The glass reflected the hazy afternoon sky, broken only by the outlines of nearby trees. The beauty couldn’t stop the hurt in her heart.
“I’m sorry.” She paused, turning to face him. “What about your mom?”
His jaw shifted slightly, as if he was weighing how much to give her. “She died when I was nineteen. That’s when I joined the Navy.”
Instinctively knowing he wouldn’t elaborate more on the past, she switched to the present. “And then you ended up here.”
He nodded, a slight smirk on his lips. “After the Navy, I needed something different. Caspian talked about Harland as if it had a pulse. Said the people were real. Said they didn’t let you drift too far without calling you back.”
Her heart tugged again, unprepared for the weight of that.
He was alone in the world and yet so calm, so strong, so reliable.
“And now?” she asked, softer.
He looked at her then. His gaze lingered, thoughtful and searching as if he were trying to match the woman in front of him with the weight she carried in her silence.
“Now it’s more than that,” he finally replied.
His voice was quiet, but the meaning behind it sank into her chest.
Callie’s breath caught, a small hitch, still, she knew he’d heard it. She remained rooted despite the warning bells ringing in her head. The moment stretched between them, the soft rustle of wind through the nearby trees the only sound filling the space.
She didn’t mean to reach for him, it just happened. Her fingers found his forearm, light pressure over muscle and warmth. He didn’t move away. If anything, he stepped closer.
Her gaze flicked to his mouth, only for a second.
Apparently, she’d lost control of her body.
He reached up, his hand slow and sure, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek. His knuckles lingered, and the touch was so gentle, it stole the breath right out of her lungs.
“I should’ve said this earlier,” he murmured, his eyes locked on hers. “You belong here. You’re part of this place, and it’s beautiful. And, Callie…” his voice trailed off as she blinked up at him. “You’re doing an amazing job.”
The truth of his words wrapped around her like a balm. Steady. Undeniable. Something she hadn’t realized she needed to hear.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned in.
So did he.
Their lips met, a tiny brush at first. Soft. Uncertain. Testing the line they’d been toeing the past few days.
Then again, slower this time. Deeper. Her pulse tripped. His other hand lifted to settle at the nape of her neck as he angled his mouth to fit hers more fully. The thumb tracing her cheekbone anchored her to the moment.
Her free hand curled into the front of his shirt, gripping instinctively.
He was solid beneath her fingers, warm and steady in a way that made her knees forget their job.
The world fell away—no gravel crunch, no rustling leaves, no nagging fear about shipments or sabotage.
Only the taste of him. The feel of him. The heat that surged between them like a current she hadn’t seen coming.
He pulled her closer, not roughly but deliberately, and the kiss deepened, no longer tentative. It was charged with something sharper. Hungrier. Her breath caught, and she felt him respond, the hitch in his own rhythm betraying that the calm, composed man had edges after all.
The strength in his arms. The way his mouth moved against hers, sure now, and dangerously good. It wasn’t supposed to feel this good. Not so fast. Not so consuming.
And yet—there it was.
His palm pressed flat to her back, and she melted into the contact before she could remind herself to be cautious. Her fingers fisted tighter into the fabric of his shirt.
She was falling.
And she didn’t even care.
A throat cleared, loudly enough to be polite, sharp enough to be effective.
They broke apart as if air had been knocked from them.
Callie stepped back instinctively, heart hammering. Her fingers were still curled in Matthew’s shirt. She let go quickly, like she was touching something too hot to hold.
Caspian stood a few yards away, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up now as he raised one brow. “Well, I was gonna say I didn’t find anything new, but clearly, I was looking in the wrong place.”
She opened her mouth then closed it, her face flaming.