Chapter 6 #2
“I might have some.” Rosie headed toward a small shed tucked in the garden's corner. “Walt kept spare parts in here. Somewhere.”
The shed was packed floor to ceiling with organized chaos—coiled hoses, sprinkler heads, PVC pipes of every diameter, boxes of fittings labeled in Walt's neat handwriting.
“This is impressive.” I pulled out a box marked Couplings - Various.
“Walt never throws anything away.” Rosie grabbed a box of clamps. “Says you never know when you'll need something.”
We carried the supplies back to the broken lines. I started disconnecting the damaged coupling while Rosie sorted through the box, finding the right replacement.
We worked in silence for a moment, replacing the cracked coupling. The morning sun warmed my wet shirt, which was starting to feel less like a cold slap and more just uncomfortable.
“So.” I tightened the connection. “What made last night so fun that you needed sunglasses at dawn?”
“Trailhead Brewery.” She handed me another coupling. “Emily Spencer and Abby Griffin invited me.”
I paused mid-twist. “You already know people here?”
“I spent summers here as a kid. They remembered me.” She shrugged. “Emily found me having a minor breakdown in my truck and decided I needed drinks.”
“Minor breakdown?”
“Well.” She gave me a pointed look. “Someone was condescending to me about my ability to help with anything. So I had a small crisis about whether moving here was a terrible mistake.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “Rosie—”
“We had many pitchers of beer, which was exactly what I needed.” She selected another coupling from the box, examining it.
“I really was an idiot yesterday.”
“Yes, you were.” She handed me the coupling. “But you're here now, soaking wet and fixing my irrigation system. I suppose you're making up for it.”
I moved to the second coupling, testing the connection. “I'm glad you have good friends.”
Friends who didn't make her question herself. Friends who helped instead of pushing her away.
Unlike me.
“They're great.” Rosie sorted through the box again, pulling out a smaller coupling. “Emily's blunt, Abby's sweet. They balance each other out.” She glanced at me. “What about you? Who do you hang out with in town?”
I focused on loosening the damaged fitting. “I don't really.”
“Oh.” She nodded, understanding in her voice. “Well, you've only been here a few months, right? Takes time to build friendships.”
“Four years.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I've been here four years.” I moved to the third coupling, not looking at her. “Bought the practice from Dr. Hammond when he retired.”
Silence.
I glanced up. She was staring at me, mouth slightly open.
“Four years?”
“Yes.”
“And you don't hang out with anyone?”
“I work.” I focused on the damaged fitting, trying to loosen it without cracking the pipe. “Don't have much time for socializing.”
“Cal.” She set down the box of couplings. “Four years is a long time to not have friends.”
“I have Sharon.”
“Your receptionist.”
“She's—” I paused. “We're friendly.”
“That's not the same thing.” Rosie crouched beside me, peering at my face. “Do you ever do anything that's not work?”
“I run a rescue.”
“Which is also work.”
“It's different.”
“Is it?” She tilted her head. “When was the last time you did something just for fun?”
I tightened the new coupling, testing the connection. Solid. “I don't remember.”
“Cal.”
“What?” I looked at her. She was still crouching there, sunglasses pushed up in her hair, studying me with an intensity that made my chest tighten.
“That's really sad.”
“I'm fine.” I stood, brushing dirt off my knees.
“Working yourself to death isn't fine.” She stood too, crossing her arms.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Because what was I supposed to say to that? That she was right? That I couldn't remember the last time I'd done something purely because I wanted to?
“Let's test it.” I turned toward the control box, needing to escape this conversation.
She followed. “We're not done talking about this.”
“Yes, we are.” I watched her reach for the valve. “Ready?”
“Cal—”
“Turn it on.”
She sighed but twisted the valve.
Water flowed smoothly through the lines. No eruptions. No fountains. Just steady, even pressure feeding into each zone.
“It works.” Rosie's face lit up. “It actually works.”
“Told you it wasn't that complicated.”
“You fixed it.” She turned to me, beaming. “I've been hand-watering for days. I can sleep in now. Well, not really sleep in… I still have goats to milk and chickens to feed, and Buddy needs his hay and—” She stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening. “Wait, what time is it?”
I checked my watch. “Seven-fifteen.”
“I'm so behind.” She ran both hands down her face. “I haven't even started milking yet, and Sugar gets so loud when she's waiting, and then Chip will start headbutting things, and—” She looked at me. “Thank you. Really. This is amazing. You're a lifesaver.”
That smile.
God, that smile.
“Glad I could help.”
“It was really nice of you.” She adjusted her ponytail, still grinning. “And now I'm going to help you.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“Make friends.” She said it like it was obvious. “You've been here four years with zero social life. That's unacceptable.”
“Rosie—”
“I'm thinking we start with the farmers market this Saturday.” She tapped her chin, already planning. “You can bring a couple of dogs. I'll introduce you to people. It'll be great.”
“I don't need—”
“Yes, you do.” She pointed at me. “Don't argue. I'm helping you, and you can't say no because you just fixed my irrigation system and I'm grateful.”
I stared at her. “That's not how gratitude works.”
“It is now.” She was already backing toward the barn, that ridiculous smile still plastered across her face. “Saturday. Nine a.m. Bring your least scary dog.”
“Rosie—”
“Can't hear you!” She spun around, jogging toward the goat pen. “Thank you again!”
I stood there in the garden, soaking wet, toolbox in hand, watching her disappear around the barn.
I should have said no. Should have told her I'm too busy, that I don't have time for farmers markets and socializing and whatever scheme she was cooking up in that chaotic brain of hers.
But I hadn't.
Because somewhere between the irrigation chaos and that smile, I'd stopped wanting to push her away.