That decision followed Denver into the afternoon as he made his remaining firewood deliveries. He admired Sophie’s fortitude, but he was tired of standing by, watching her face her own battles when he was ready to do itwithher. No one would argue that they made a good team. He was ready to put his plan into action, but he faced a serious lack of ideas.
“What do you think, Sherlock? Got anything?”
Denver pulled into Liam Davies’ driveway with the final cord of wood on his schedule. The ranch home was new to Sunset Ridge, set on a piece of family waterfront land. It had Denver’s same view of the mountains, only better. The property belonged in an Alaskan luxury magazine for certain.
He wondered briefly if Sophie would prefer a new, fancier house she could customize like this one rather than his older home with its quirks and challenges. She’d lived a rather comfortable life before her ex pulled the rug out from under her feet. Did she expect that again? Denver’s books were gaining traction, but not enough to build a mansion.
Sherlock let out a bark when Liam came around the side of the house with his dog, Raven, at his side. The two senior dogs had only met a couple times, but when they did, their youth came out for a romp.
“Go ahead and let him out,” Liam called as he approached. “She’s feeling playful today.”
The second the door opened, Sherlock shot out like a bottle rocket. The two dogs raced in wide circles, stretching their legs from the lawn to the edge of the sandy beach. Denver suspected Sherlock would sleep two days after this playdate.
“Just got the new shed.” Liam pointed to a structure at the edge of the tree line. “All the wood I split won’t be dry enough to burn until next winter.” Together, they made quick work of stacking the cord inside the shed.
Liam wiped at the line of sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand when they finished. “You coming Saturday?”
Other than joining Sophie halfway through her eight-mile rule and hopefully writingthe endon his current book, Denver’s schedule was open. “What’s Saturday?”
“Tessa’s throwing a party,” Liam explained.
“Here?”
“At the lodge, actually.”
“Special occasion?”
“If I told you, she’d off me. You’d probably find my body in the bay.”
Denver should probably decline. His novel was due to his editor next week, and if he didn’t get it sent off in time, he’d have to delay his preorder. He’d only done that once, and with the number of emails his fans sent letting them know just how impatient they were, he swore he’d never dothatagain. But passing up an opportunity to spend time with Sophie, now of all times, wasn’t an option. Besides, Tessa was the one who forced him to go slow when he first met Sophie. Probably best to get her blessing before he put his plan into full swing. “I’ll be there.”
“Cool. I’m sure Sophie’ll know what time. I only know to be wrapped up at the shop before the restaurant closes.”
They watched the two dogs slow their pace and sniff the grass instead of racing in circles. Sherlock showed a little too much interest in a patch of purple flowers, licking a petal. He shook his head at the bitter taste but went back for a second attempt. “Sherlock, don’t eat that,” Denver called. “I can’t save you if you do.”
Liam laughed. “Neither can I.”
The dog trotted to Denver’s side, tail wagging sluggishly. But Denver’s gaze fixated on the flowers.Is it too much?
“I better get to mowing this lawn,” said Liam.
“And I have a book calling my name.” But Malcom would have to wait a little while longer, because Denver had another stop to make first. From the truck, he waved at Liam. “See you Saturday.”
As he pulled out of the driveway, he wondered how Sophie would react, receiving flowers. He knew her favorites were pink lilies, but half the town knew that; she couldn’t peg him as the sender. Plus, the right bouquet would send the most directromanticmessage. It would be hard to mistake them for a friendly gesture.
“I think I have to do it, Sherlock.” Sophie’s response to the unexpected flowers would help him figure out how to navigate the rest of his plan.
Outside of Faithful Flowers, Denver scanned the block for the Whitmore car. Sophie was due to pick Caroline up from school in less than half an hour, and there was always a chance she was out running errands. “Behave yourself,” he told Sherlock. “Aunt Faith would ban you for life if you ate her flowers.”
Denver was thankful to find the flower shop empty of customers. Aunt Faith stood behind the counter, tying a dark-purple ribbon onto a lightly tinted purple vase. Her curly hair was tied back in a loose bun, but the only thing that kept it out of her face was the tie-dyed band.
“Denver! What a pleasant surprise.”
“Hey, Aunt Faith. Need a favor.”
Abandoning the ribbon, she gave him her full attention. “Flowers forsomeone, right?”
He nodded.
