Chapter 2
Mia
“Carly!” I shout as I burst into the bungalow.
My sister is pacing the living room—our living room. We have a freaking living room! I didn’t even get the guy’s name, but he has to be the owner.
“Mia!” Carly yells back, making me jump. “Oh my goodness, I don’t even know how I managed to leave your side! I’m so sorry, Mia. I swear I was right behind you, pulling the damn luggage, and next thing I know, you’re falling into the pool.”
I’m not sure if it’s the exhaustion or the shock finally catching up with me, but as Carly frantically reenacts the most embarrassing moment of my life, I start laughing uncontrollably.
It takes her a beat, but soon enough, she’s laughing just as hard.
We both collapse onto the cool floor, and I screech at the shock of it. A sharp pain shoots up my back almost as soon as I make contact with the tile.
“Dang it! First the cold pool, now the cold floor? Where’s the warmth you promised me, Carlota. Huh?”
“I was feeling really bad about how you fell into that pool like a sack of potatoes—and how all your clothes ended up floating behind you,” she says, still half laughing but clearly worried. “But you calling me Carlota? Naw, you’re fine. I don’t need to worry any more about you.”
I let out another laugh. We’ve always hated being called by our full names, but I love riling my sister up. Even though she’s five years older, we’ve been thick as thieves since we were kids.
After our parents passed away unexpectedly two years ago, we left Texas—the only place we’ve ever known—and moved to the mountains of North Carolina.
This year, instead of staying home—sad and freezing—we decided to splurge on a holiday trip to the Caribbean. Our first vacation in years—and what happens the second we arrive? I fall into the pool with all my belongings. Perfect.
“Come on, Carly. You know I’m just joking,” I say, trying to stand. It takes a herculean effort, and I end up right back on my bum.
“Oh boy. What is it?” Carly jumps into action, looping an arm around my back and helping me up.
“Let’s get you changed, and then we can go see a doctor,” Carly says in that bossy big-sister tone she uses when she doesn’t want to argue.
“What? No? It’s just my back muscles. I don’t think we need a doctor. Maybe they’ve got some Tylenol around here?” I say, heading for a set of doors beyond the living area.
The moment I open one, my jaw hits the floor. A king-size bed is covered in brand-new clothes.
“Carly?”
She’s at my side in an instant. “Umm, yeah,” she says, smirking. “Apparently, the guy who threw you into the pool is one of the owner’s sons.”
I blink at her, still processing.
“Yes. Mr. Grosso was so apologetic,” she continues. “He took me to customer service himself, made sure we got a free upgrade, and when an employee showed up with your dripping luggage, he insisted you get a whole new wardrobe—complimentary for your troubles.”
I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in. The pile of clothes practically calls my name. As a farrier, I don’t usually wear anything you’d call nice—I live in jeans and boots. Comfort is my middle name.
But then I notice gauzy curtains billowing in the breeze, the shimmer of waves just a hundred feet away, and I make a split-second decision. I dart straight toward the ocean.
The sand is warm beneath my feet. I close my eyes, lift my face to the sun, and stretch my arms wide.
“Ah, gracias vida,” I whisper, breathing in the salty air. Despite the earlier mishap, I can’t help but feel grateful to be here.
“Feeling better?” Carly asks, joining me.
“Yeah. I think I’m just going to take a quick shower, get into one of those fancy clothes I just got, and then take a nap.”
Carly hooks her arm through mine as we make our way back to the bungalow. “Something tells me you need your rest, little sis.”
I frown at her tone, and she chuckles.
“The guy who made you fall—”
I roll my eyes. “We need to give him a nickname. The fall guy isn’t it.”
Carly snorts. “What are you talking about? That’s perfect. Anyway, something tells me your fall guy isn’t done with you yet.”
I don’t understand what she means. Maybe I have a concussion? There’s no way a rich man like him would set his eyes on a small-town girl like me.
Although… If I'm being honest, the man is hot as hell. Those deep blue eyes, that straight nose I’ve always had a weakness for, a chiseled jaw framed by the most perfectly manicured beard I’ve ever seen.
Add in the strong arms and broad chest, and—yeah—he probably looks like a full-course meal in swim trunks.
“Mia? Weren’t you going to shower?” Carly’s voice snaps me out of my daydream.
“Yes, yes. I was just… in my own head,” I say with a smile that fools no one.
She sighs, pulls out her phone, and flops down on my bed. “I think you’re more affected by the incident than you’re letting on. I’m going to stay here so I can hear you in case you need me.”
I huff dramatically as I make my way to the bathroom, but secretly, I love how protective she is.
Under the shower’s warm spray, I lather up and finally let the day wash off me. My mind drifts to him—the ridiculously sexy man who decided to make me his problem.
Yes, I was definitely an inconvenience in his afternoon. I’m ninety-nine percent sure he didn’t mean to spook me—and God knows what I was thinking, walking straight into him like that.
Some might say my luck was shitty, but I’ve always believed everything happens for a reason. Maybe he’s the reason. Maybe he’s the fling Carly and I joked about on the flight here.
We’ve been living in Azalea Creek for a couple of years, and although I love the town and its people, dating options are slim.
My sister started as a farm vet but quickly became the town’s vet—too busy saving animals to date—though I know she’s been secretly pining for a certain grumpy guy for months.
She’ll never admit it, but if anyone can melt that rugged man’s frozen heart, it's Carly—a woman who isn’t afraid of new challenges, who never backs down.
She’s my biggest cheerleader and best friend.
“Mia, are you still alive?” said sister calls through the door.
“Yes, Mom,” I shout back, knowing exactly how much she hates that. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I hear her groan on the other side of the door, and I chuckle. It never fails.
When I turn off the water, I hear voices. Weird. We’re alone, and Carly never watches TV.
“Carly? Is everything okay?” I ask, tiptoeing into my room.
“Oh my gosh, Mia, you won’t believe this!” Carly practically yells.
I dart into the living room, not caring that my lady bits are practically on display—this tiny towel is doing the best it can. Carly stands there holding the biggest, most extravagant bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Holy shit, who died?” I blurt out.
Carly’s face twists in horror.
I let out a loud laugh. My whole body folds in half until my knees hit the floor.
“Mia, what the heck is wrong with you?” she exclaims, struggling to hold the massive bouquet in her arms. I swear, the thing is borderline obscene. But I’m laughing so hard, I can’t even take a good look.
“I’m sorry,” I manage between gasps, “but that’s when I’ve seen the most flowers—at a funeral.”
Carly’s trying to keep it together, but one look at me on the floor, and she cracks too. She drops beside me, unceremoniously plopping down as the flowers land safely between us.
The scent hits a moment later—a sweet mix of roses and sunflowers, and I immediately feel calmer. Then curiosity takes over.
Are these really for me? Or did the delivery guy deliver to the wrong bungalow? Or… are they from him?
“Does it have a card?” I ask, sitting up and taking a deep breath to steady myself.
Carly just grins and says nothing.
I lean closer, tracing my fingers along the blooms. They’re beautiful—white roses tucked between bright sunflowers.
“It’s breathtaking,” I murmur.
I’ve always loved flowers. Secretly, I wanted to study horticulture—plants make sense to me.
But when it was time for college, our parents passed.
Carly offered to quit vet school to find a job so I could go to school, but I told her no.
I stayed on the farm where our parents used to work and took over as the farrier, and she finished her degree.
She wasn’t thrilled, but we both knew she’d worked too hard to quit two years before graduating.
Finally, I spot a small off-white card tucked into the vase. My pulse kicks up—heart thudding with anticipation.