3. Becky
Chapter three
Becky
W aking up to the sound of birds chirping outside the window, I inhale a soft breeze carrying the scent of freshly cut grass. It’s so peaceful, so normal, that for a second, I forget everything that’s happened. But then it all comes rushing back—the fire, losing B., and the overwhelming uncertainty of what comes next.
I push the covers aside and stretch, feeling the stiffness in my back from a night spent tossing and turning. The unfamiliar room, cozy as it is, feels foreign. Still, Lulu’s generosity gives me a thread of comfort I can cling to.
After a quick shower, I grab the mismatched clothes my friends pulled together for me. Ellie’s top is too tight across the chest, and Maggie Ann’s pants are a little too long, making me feel like a kid playing dress-up. I roll the cuffs and tug at the fabric until it looks halfway presentable, but the whole ensemble is a disaster.
I glance in the mirror and laugh under my breath. “Well, quirky is better than nothing,” I mutter, running a brush through my damp hair.
The smell of fresh-ground coffee greets me as I step into the kitchen, instantly lifting my spirits. Lulu is already at the table, sipping from a hand-thrown mug and scrolling through her phone. She looks up when she hears me and grins.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” she teases, taking in my mismatched outfit.
“Don’t start,” I warn, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee. “This is what happens when you rely on friends with completely different wardrobes.”
“It’s cute,” Lulu says, biting back a laugh. “In a... mismatched, free-spirited kind of way.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling as I take a seat across from her.
Light streams through the kitchen window, highlighting the backyard beyond. My breath catches as I take it in—rows of vibrant flowers in every color imaginable, interspersed with lush greenery and trailing vines. It’s a garden straight out of a fairytale.
“Your backyard is gorgeous,” I say, nodding toward the window.
Just outside the kitchen, raised stone garden beds overflow with lavender, rosemary, sage, and chamomile. Climbing roses and honeysuckle wind around a weathered wooden trellis, creating a secluded nook with a small wrought-iron table and chairs.
Lulu glances outside and shrugs. “Thanks. That’s Mom’s doing. She’s a master gardener—always has been. She’ll probably be out there pruning or planting as soon as she gets back from her morning walk.”
“It’s incredible,” I murmur, my mind drifting to my own love of flowers. I could spend hours out there, losing myself in the rhythm of planting and tending. The wind chimes hanging from a nearby pear tree tinkle softly, blending with the sounds of birds chirping and bees buzzing from bloom to bloom.
“Speaking of incredible,” Lulu says, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “What’s this I hear about Paul showing up at the fire last night?”
My stomach twists, and I sigh. “He offered me a place to stay. I told him no.”
“Um... yeah,” Lulu says firmly. “That guy’s bad news. You’re too vulnerable now to ride that dramatic roller coaster again.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter, taking a sip of coffee.
Lulu studies me for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “You know,” she says slowly, “there’s a way to make him back off for good.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”
She grins. “You could pretend to be dating someone else. Someone who makes Paul think twice about sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I blink at her, caught off guard. “Lulu, that’s... I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Paul has some volatile qualities.
“Why not?” she presses. “It could work. He’d have no reason to bother you if he thought you’d moved on.”
“Moved on with who?” I ask, crossing my arms.
Her grin widens, and my stomach sinks. “My brother, Michael,” she says simply.
My coffee nearly goes down the wrong pipe. “Michael?” I remember her having a brother when she was last in town, but that was years ago. He had been older than us and never seemed to notice his younger sister and her friends.
“Why not?” Lulu shrugs. “He’s perfect for the role—strong, intimidating, and completely uninterested in drama. Paul would steer clear for sure.”
I shake my head, laughing nervously. “Lulu, from what I remember, your brother is... intense. No one would believe we’d be a couple.”
She waves me off. “That’s just his outside. He’s actually a big softie under all that gruffness.”
“I don’t know,” I say hesitantly, my mind racing. The idea of fake dating anyone is ridiculous... but also tempting to have a buffer between me and Paul.
Before I can say anything else, a small meow interrupts us. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat.
“B.?” I whisper, my eyes darting toward the doorway.
A tiny kitten pads into the kitchen, her tail flicking behind her. She stops in the middle of the room, tilting her head as if to say, What’s all the fuss about?
“B.!” I exclaim, dropping to my knees. The kitten darts toward me, climbing into my lap as I scoop her up. Tears sting my eyes as I press my cheek against her soft fur. “Oh my goodness.”
Lulu looks just as stunned as I feel. “Wait, that’s your kitten?”
“Yes,” I say, laughing through my tears. “Where did you find her?”
“I didn’t,” Lulu says slowly.
Before I can process what that means, the kitchen door swings open, and a deep voice fills the room.
“Where’d you run off to—”
I look up, and my breath catches. He stands in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the morning light. He’s dressed casually, but the crisp shirt and well-fitted jeans scream wealth and confidence in a way that makes my head spin.
For a moment, we just stare at each other, equally stunned.
“You,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
His brow furrows, his gaze flicking between me and the kitten. “Becky?”
The realization hits us at the same time. The gruff firefighter from last night is the same man standing in front of me now—Lulu’s brother, the wealthy rancher I’ve heard so much about.
Mike’s eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment, the room feels charged with an energy I can’t quite place. He steps forward, his gaze fixed on me as though trying to piece together how I’ve ended up sitting at his kitchen table, clutching his kitten.
“Wait a second,” he says slowly, his deep voice rumbling. “You’re the florist?”
“And you’re...” I trail off, motioning toward him. “You’re Lulu’s older brother?”
His jaw tightens, and he crosses his arms, his broad shoulders making the kitchen feel smaller. “Yeah. And you’re Becky, one of Lulu’s little friends.”
“Um... okay.” I nod, still holding B. close to my chest. The kitten purrs softly, oblivious to the tension swirling in the air.
“You’re the one who brought B. here?” I ask, my voice barely steady.
Mike nods, his expression softening just a fraction. “Found her at the firehouse. Mrs. Hargrove dropped her off, said she found her wandering in her yard.”
Lulu grins. “Well, this is convenient. You two are already getting along. Makes my idea even better.”
“What idea?” Mike asks warily.
Lulu beams. “I told Becky you should pretend to be her boyfriend to keep her ex from bothering her.”
Mike blinks, his expression unreadable.
But the way his eyes linger on me for a beat too long tells me the idea has already taken root.
“Absolutely not,” we both say in unison.