Chapter Fourteen #2
Then her luck was changing for the good.
***
B y midmorning, the nursery was in full swing.
The clatter of loading carts, snippets of cheerful customer conversation, and the buzz of pruning shears should’ve been comforting. Normal. Blissful.
But every sound scraped at Callie’s nerves.
Matthew hadn’t texted back yet, and even though she told herself that was a good thing and meant he was working leads, it didn’t stop the knots in her stomach from tightening.
She stood restocking the counter seed packet display, deftly watching as Rosie rang up a flat of succulents for an older couple. The girl was her usual sunny self, smiling, chatting, tapping in totals as if second nature.
But Matthew’s concern at having observed Rosie the other day, leaning into the window of a delivery van and handing the driver a note or something as he glanced oddly toward the office, kept nagging her brain like a song stuck on repeat.
Was Rosie being friendly?
Or was she involved in something she didn’t understand?
Damn, she hated the uncertainty, but what she hated more was doubting someone she knew and trusted.
Callie didn’t want to believe it. But after this morning, after that truck, she couldn’t afford to ignore anything.
Glancing out the side door, she watched Nate restocking compost bags near the east trellis, his sleeves rolled up, tan lines sharp on his forearms. He’d already asked her twice if she was okay, and the third time—after she jumped at the sound of a truck backfiring—he gave her a look that said I know something’s wrong. Talk to me when you’re ready.
She’d nodded, grateful for his quiet support.
Matthew’s SUV finally rolled in around eleven, accelerating her pulse because, well, she enjoyed being around him. He made her feel safe, protected, but most of all, she felt valued.
Callie wasn’t the only one happy to see him. His arrival drew a low wag from Sammy and a full-body wiggle from Tater, who nearly tripped over his own legs bounding outside with her to greet him.
Her steps slowed and heart thudded. He looked tired, focused, but the moment their eyes met, his shoulders softened a notch.
He bent to greet the dogs, then straightened with a half-smile. “Morning.”
“It’s almost noon,” she said, her tone a little harsh. Jerk. She shook her head and blew out a breath. “Sorry.” And because she needed the connection and didn’t care who saw, she stepped up to him, set her palms on his chest, and kissed his cheek. “Good morning.”
He went still for a second.
Then his hand slid to her lower back, grounding her as he always seemed to do, his voice rougher than before. “Sorry, too. I was coming. I wanted to get here sooner, but I had to be sure about the box, about the link. If I showed up with nothing but instincts, I might’ve made things worse.”
Her breath caught at the worry and censure clouding his gaze. But worse than that was the guilt she’d heard in his voice, as if he’d failed her.
“Matthew.” She slid her hands up to his shoulders and squeezed. “You never make things worse. You only ever make them better.”
A week ago, there was no way Callie would’ve admitted that to a man.
But Matthew wasn’t an ordinary man. He was steady, capable…special, and she was slowly realizing how lucky she was to have him in her life. Keeping things bottled up and close to the vest wasn’t possible with him.
Not that she hadn’t tried.
Yeah, Matthew wasn’t just a man. He was hers —or at least, it was starting to feel that way. And the truth? She was tired of pretending she didn’t care as deeply as she did.
He stared into her eyes and looked at her as if he wanted to believe her. Like maybe he wasn’t used to being the one someone leaned on.
But how was that possible? Her heart squeezed. He was a Navy SEAL. They were sent in to help others. To rescue people.
Had no one ever thanked him?
Her throat heated and eyes burned at that thought, but she blinked away the tears. Something told her he would only view them as pity if he knew the origins. And she didn’t pity him. She revered him. Appreciated him. And she was not afraid to tell him.
Still holding his gaze, she cleared her throat. “I mean it, Matthew,” she said softly. “You showing up always makes things feel less impossible.”
His gaze narrowed and searched hers for a few more beats, something unreadable flickering deep behind the worry. He exhaled, and when he did, his shoulders relaxed under her fingers.
“Yeah?” he asked, his gaze brightening.
She smiled. “Oh, yeah.”
A smile spread across his face and warmth mixed with mischief in his eyes. “Good to know.”
The longer she gazed at him, the more she wanted to kiss him until they couldn’t breathe. And she nearly did, her body even shifting closer, instinct tugging her forward, until the laughter of children and the sharp voice of a frustrated parent cut through the moment.
Reality returned with a thud.
Reluctantly, she loosened her grip and stepped back. “So,” she said, motioning for him to follow her down the gravel path, “you find out anything else?”
He nodded, his voice low and unreadable. “Yeah. And you’re not going to be pleased.”
Her stomach dipped.
“Let’s find somewhere quiet,” he added, his eyes scanning toward the customers.
Callie didn’t ask questions. Not yet. She led him past Nate, who was fielding a question about trellises and climbing roses, and veered toward the lean-to at the back of the nursery. It sat tucked behind the main greenhouse in a restricted area, quiet, shaded, and perfect for private conversations.
Even very thorough, heated, unforgettable ones like they’d shared there the other evening.
A laugh bubbled up her throat, but she managed to swallow it back.
The lean-to came into view, half-draped in morning light, still as private as it had been that night. The bench they’d never made it to. The table that bore even more fond memories now.
She felt Matthew’s pace slow, a slight shift in his breathing that mirrored her own. He remembered too.
The air thickened, not with heat, but with memory. Want. The kind that didn’t need words to be understood.
When they reached the shelter, she paused and turned. So did he. For a second, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.
His gaze dropped to her mouth before lifting back to her eyes. “Hard to forget a place like this.”
She nodded, throat dry. “Impossible, really.”
He didn’t touch her, but everything in his expression said he wanted to.
So did she.
But not yet. There were people around. There were things to discuss. Her need was going to have to take a backseat.
For now.
Callie took a breath and stepped into the shade. “Okay,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. “What did you find?”
She backed up to lean against the table, the same one Matthew had once lifted her onto with so much care it nearly undid her. She didn’t look at it now. She couldn’t. Not with him standing so close and that night still humming between them with chemistry overload.
Matthew stood a few feet away, arms crossed, boots planted wide as if anchoring himself for the conversation ahead. His gaze was soft, steady. Focused, giving the impression he hated what he was about to say.
She didn’t make him drag it out. “Tell me.”
“The shipment wasn’t a one-off.” His voice stayed low. “Carter found a trail. GreenSpan’s tied to more than one false invoice in the past few months. The same Vantage Gulf account paid for each one.”
Her heart knocked against her ribs. “Through Ellis’ company?”
He nodded. “FieldSource is either being used without his knowledge, or Ellis is playing dumb. Either way, the same logistics company handled them all.”
Her brows pulled tight. “Real Terra?”
“Yeah.” He walked over, pulled out a bench and sat down, elbows on the table. “And Carter found something else. The boxes being funneled through these vendors? They’ve only gone out to small-town nurseries and feed stores. All quiet, low-profile businesses, like yours.”
Callie slowly moved around to join him, settling across from him at the table, her hands curled around the edge to steady herself. “So they’re testing routes. Seeing where they can hide it best.”
“Exactly.” Matthew exhaled, his eyes narrowing. “That truck this morning wasn’t scouting. They came to retrieve the box.”
Callie’s frown deepened. “But Everett said no one got out. And the box wouldn’t have been unloaded near the gate. It was unloaded by the greenhouse.”
“They didn’t need to come in to know that,” he said. “They could’ve used binoculars from the road or maybe from a ridge line, if there’s a vantage point nearby.”
“There is,” she muttered, mentally mapping the land. “Old field access on the north fence line. Overgrown now, but if they knew what to look for…”
“Then they parked where they could observe. Maybe even watched the drop-off yesterday, waited for confirmation it was still here, and planned to grab it early before anyone showed up.”
“But we got to it first,” she said quietly. “And now they don’t know who took it or where it is.”
“Exactly,” Matthew said. “And that makes us unpredictable, which means they’re going to get twitchy.”
Before she could reply, the sound of approaching footsteps had them both glancing toward the path.
Nate rounded the corner, wiping his hands on a faded rag, his expression serious beneath the brim of his cap. Sammy padded along beside him, tail wagging low.
“Didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said, his voice gruff but quiet. “But y’all weren’t exactly whispering. Something going on I should know about?”
Callie straightened instinctively. “It’s…complicated.”
“Then un complicated it for me, Cal.” He looked between her and Matthew. “I’ve been around long enough to know when trouble’s sniffing at the door. And I don’t like the way it smells.”
Matthew gave a slow nod. “We’ve got reason to believe someone tried to use the nursery for a dirty shipment. Not fertilizer, something worse.”
Nate blew out a breath and reached down and gave Sammy’s head a pat. “And that truck this morning?”
Callie blinked. “How’d you know about that?”
“You’re not the only one with nosy neighbors,” he said. “Mrs. Lanning spotted it on her way to walk her yappy little mutt and told my wife, who told me before I finished my eggs. Small towns talk fast.”
Matthew swore under his breath.
Nate’s gaze sharpened. “That truck out front this morning doesn’t belong to any of our usual suppliers. And it wasn’t scouting. Not that time of day. It was waiting. Watching.”
Callie’s stomach twisted.
“You think they saw something?” she asked, her voice low.
“Probably scoped the grounds with binoculars,” Matthew said grimly. “The box they wanted was originally unloaded by the greenhouse. If they knew the layout or had someone inside feeding them info they could’ve expected it to still be there.”
Callie’s stomach gave a sharp twist. Someone inside ? She inhaled as a thought occurred. “It could’ve been the driver.”
Matthew nodded.
Nate’s brows dipped. “So, the box wasn’t here.”
“No,” Matthew said. “We—ESI,” he clarified for Nate. “We flagged it the moment it came off the truck. Carter’s been analyzing it since yesterday. But if the delivery schedule was predictable, and the drop point hadn’t changed in months, they might’ve assumed it’d be waiting right there.”
Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “Which means this wasn’t a scout run. This was a planned pickup.”
“And now,” Callie added quietly, “they know it’s missing.”
Nate’s gaze hardened. “You think they’ll come back?”
Matthew didn’t hesitate. “If they think the product’s compromised, maybe not. But if they think someone saw too much or could talk—” He didn’t finish the thought.
Callie did. “Then they’ll try to shut it down.”
The wind stirred the leaves above them, sudden and sharp.
He gave her a long, unreadable look. “You scared?”
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m mad.”
A ghost of a smile curved his mouth. “Good.” Then his expression turned sober again. “You tell me what you need. I’ll be here early. I’ll stay late. I’m not letting anything happen to you or this place.”
Callie’s throat tightened. “Thanks, Nate.”
“Neither am I,” Matthew added.
Nate nodded once, as if it was already settled. “Then we’ll handle it.”
A beat passed. The quiet rustle of leaves and soft huff of Sammy settling near the table, his tail thumping once in perfect punctuation, met her ears.
Callie glanced between the two men—one a constant in her life, the other someone who’d crashed into it and somehow felt as vital. Their support and caring hit harder than she expected.
Her voice came out a little rough. “Okay. Then we start by figuring out who knew where that box would be.”
Matthew’s gaze sharpened, and Nate straightened, ready to take action.
“You want eyes out here, I’ve got ’em,” Nate said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If anything shifts—delivery schedules, staff behavior, anything odd—I’ll let you know before it hits the ground.”
Callie gave him a grateful look, one she hoped said everything she couldn’t quite voice.
A few seconds later, a faint voice floated toward them from the main building. Rosie, calling out to ask where the clipboard had gone.
Matthew’s head turned, his gaze narrowing slightly, not suspicion, not yet, but something aware.
Callie caught the glance and felt her pulse skip.
The note. The driver. She sighed. Things were such a mess.
She straightened. “Guess we’d better get back.”
They moved as one, the tension between them more settled now. But as she stepped out into the sunlight again, Callie couldn’t shake the feeling they were only beginning to dig beneath the surface.