Chapter Seventeen
M atthew stepped back as he answered the call, his posture shifting from warm and relaxed to sharply alert. The kind of shift that made her stomach twist a little.
She couldn’t hear Mac’s voice on the other end, but she watched Matthew’s expression tighten by degrees.
He gave a clipped, “Copy that,” followed by a few more quiet responses she couldn’t make out. Then, “On my way.”
He hung up and turned to fully face her, already slipping back into his other role, the one that made her heart ache a little, even as she respected the hell out of him for it.
“DEA’s officially stepping in. Mac wants me at headquarters.” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “They want a full debrief before they decide their next move.”
Callie reached out to touch his arm, needing something to do with her hands. “Does that mean this thing is bigger than we thought?”
“It means, they’ve been watching this network, but the trail went cold.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “This might reopen it.” He stepped closer, brushing his fingers over her hip as if grounding them both. “I wanted to wait until we had proof before looping in the feds, but…that time’s up.”
She studied his face. He looked tired but focused. Steady. Everything she hadn’t known she needed until him.
“I could come with you,” she offered. “Maybe they’d want to ask me something?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Better if you keep things normal at the nursery. Stay under the radar.”
She nodded, even though every part of her wanted to follow him out the door. “Be careful.”
“I will.” Matthew cupped her cheek, thumb stroking gently. “We’re almost there. Hang on a bit longer.”
Callie leaned into the touch, letting the moment stretch. Then she nodded. “Go,” she told him. “I’ll be fine.”
After all, she still had a business to run.
He kissed her once, firm, lingering, and warm, then grabbed his keys and the duffle he’d retrieved from his vehicle last night, and headed out the door.
As it closed behind him, Callie looked down at Sammy, who was now licking the bottom of his bowl with laser focus.
She forced a smile. “Guess it’s just you and me today, bud.”
But even as she said it, a strange unease unfurled in her chest, quiet and persistent.
Something about today already felt off.
The short walk across the field should’ve been calming.
Sunlight filtered through the clouds, warm but not punishing yet, and Sammy trotted ahead, a four-legged early warning system.
The gate was already open, her team was in place, and even a couple of early customers were browsing the rows of plants.
But the quiet in Callie’s chest didn’t settle.
Not even close.
She stepped into the front area of the store and breathed in the usual blend of lavender and earth, sharp citrus still clinging to the counter. It smelled the same as every morning—normal, welcoming, home.
But nothing about today felt normal.
Nate looked up from behind the counter, where he was stacking fertilizer tags into a crate. “Well, look who’s walking in all alone for once.” He grinned. “Matthew not glued to your side today?”
“Apparently, even he takes days off,” Callie said lightly, brushing a hand over the back of her neck as she stepped around the counter.
Nate chuckled. “Place feels weird without his quiet presence lurking near the compost.”
“Don’t get used to it,” she replied with a grin. “He’ll be back.”
Rosie stood near the register, sorting through yesterday’s receipts. She looked up—long enough to register Callie’s arrival—then quickly ducked her head and went back to work without a word.
Okay, then.
Not suspicious, exactly. But…odd.
“Everything okay here?” she asked Nate.
He nodded. “Yeah. Les is outside with a customer, and we’ve got things covered in here.” He motioned toward Rosie.
The girl looked up and smiled this time. “Yep. It’s all good.”
Callie smiled back, still a little confused by the mixed signals from Rosie, and frankly, tired of needing to be suspicious of her own staff.
After grabbing a mug of fresh coffee from the breakroom, she made her way to her office. Sammy padded along beside her, tail swishing in quick fashion.
Once inside, she nudged the door halfway shut with her foot and sank into her desk chair. Sammy plopped down with a huff, clearly worn out from the invisible burdens only a very sensitive Golden Retriever could understand.
She booted up her laptop and took a long sip from her mug, the second-best coffee she’d had that day, and first real comfort she’d felt since Matthew walked out the door.
Her phone lit up with an incoming call. Her heart skipped a beat, hoping it was him, then settled back down when her sister’s name flashed on the screen.
Callie hit Accept and held the phone to her ear. “If you’re calling to say Mom wants to rearrange the antique shop again, I swear I’ll fake my own death and disappear.”
“She already did,” Maggie deadpanned. “Apparently the flow of chi was ‘off-putting to the blue Depression glass.’”
Callie snorted. “It’s glass. It doesn’t have opinions.”
“Tell that to Grandma. This morning, she told a milk glass rooster to stop judging her.”
Callie laughed, her tension easing. “And how are you?”
“Running payroll and wondering if you’re still alive. You didn’t text me back yesterday.”
“I was busy. With Matthew.”
A pause. “ Oh . Busy busy ?”
“Maggie.”
“Oh my God, you totally were. Is he still there? Is he shirtless? Tap once for yes.”
She rolled her eyes and grinned at Sammy, who blinked up at her as if he’d heard it all before. “He’s at work. I’m at work. Everything is perfectly normal.”
Callie settled back in her office chair and sipped her coffee.
Maggie’s voice came through, all faux cheer. “I take it you two had a good night?”
Callie choked on her sip. “Wait—what?”
“Oh, don’t play innocent. I stopped by yesterday to take you to dinner with Mom and Grandma Jo. Imagine my surprise when I see Matthew’s vehicle parked in your driveway. So, I did the polite thing—I turned around and left.”
Groaning, she set her coffee on the desk. “Oh my God. Yesterday was Sunday?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Sundays were their ritual dinner days. Their impromptu get together at the diner last week was just an added treat. “I completely forgot. Why didn’t you remind me?”
“I did. Three times. But clearly, someone was too busy entertaining her off-the-books security detail.”
Callie exhaled, staring at the ceiling. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything to them about Matthew being at my house.”
A beat. Then Maggie’s voice was sweet as honey. “Okay, I didn’t tell them.”
Callie narrowed her eyes even though Maggie couldn’t see it. “Mags.”
“It’s a total lie, of course,” Maggie admitted. “But if that’s what you want to hear, far be it from me to disappoint my big sis.”
Callie dropped her head to the desk.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic. I can hear you banging your head,” Maggie said. “They were happy to assume you were feeding Matthew, and Grandma Jo said that was much better than you eloping with a tall stranger who sells heirloom tomatoes. They were totally cool about it. And so am I.”
She inhaled and blinked. “Oh, that’s good.”
“It is good,” her sister said. “I don’t know what the man has done to get through your walls, especially to be allowed into your home.”
“I—” She paused, then sighed. “I found out yesterday that he’s been sleeping on the property to keep an eye on things.”
“What? He really slept out there?”
Callie leaned back, her eyes drifting toward the greenhouse. “Yeah. In the lean-to. For three nights before I found out. Said he didn’t tell me because I’d insist on staying out there with him.”
Maggie was quiet for a moment. “Okay, that’s actually…really sweet.”
“Yeah.” Callie smiled into her coffee. “It kind of is.”
After a few more minutes of exchanging laughter, banter, and some healthy teasing, Callie ended the call, her smile lingering a little longer than she expected. She set the phone down, finished her coffee, and forced her attention back to the screen in front of her.
Paperwork first. Paranoia later.
For the next half hour, she focused on updating invoices and cross-checking the week’s supply orders.
Nothing jumped out as odd, no last-minute delivery changes, no surprise shipments.
She flagged one unpaid balance and emailed the customer a polite reminder, then made a note to double-check the incoming soil delivery scheduled for Wednesday.
Once the worst of the admin clutter was cleared, she stood, stretched her shoulders, and looked down at Sammy. “Greenhouse check?”
His tail thumped in approval.
She hesitated for half a second before heading out. The air had thickened, not only with heat but also with that edge she couldn’t shake. As if something was circling.
The worst part was, she didn’t know if it was in her head—or something real.
She was used to second-guessing herself, always erring on the side of logic. Lately, though, her instincts were sharper. Louder. As if they were tired of being ignored.
She exhaled, squared her shoulders, and stepped out into the sunlight, the heat already pressing harder than it had earlier. As she rounded the corner of the shed, she nearly collided with Nate, who was hauling a stack of empty flats toward the compost bins.
“Whoa there,” he said, steadying the trays. “You on patrol now?”
“Routine check,” she said. “Some of the seedlings in Greenhouse Two looked a little off last week.”
Sammy trotted over to Nate without hesitation, his tail wagging as if they were old war buddies.
“Look at this,” Callie muttered, eyeing the traitorous Golden Retriever. “Abandoning me the second the sun hits ninety.”
Nate grinned. “He knows better than to follow you into that oven. I’m headed toward the shade with a hose and a chew toy. Want me to bring him by later?”
Callie sighed in exaggerated betrayal. “Fine. Go ahead. At least one of us gets to enjoy air movement.”