Seconds elongate and merge, a roaring river in my ears that separates us from the rest of the universe, and my eyes flutter shut. I’m thinking any moment he’ll kiss me when his hand falls away and the engine purrs to life.
Noah depresses the pedal, and we’re off, driving up the trail that skirts the golf course, a high-pitched whine trailing along after.
Around the seventh hole, he veers off course, down a trail overgrown in places. I flinch at the occasional scrape of branches, even though they can’t touch me, and Noah drapes his arm around my shoulders and curls me protectively closer.
The shrubbery thins, and we pop out on the northeast corner of the property where they used to hold sunrise yoga before attendance dwindled right along with the residents. At last glance, the meadow had become an untamable jungle—especially to someone with the unfortunate knowledge that overgrown vegetation provides an ideal habitat for snakes, and given the python invasion in the Everglades, this gal’s decided you really can’t be too careful.
Hold up. When did this get here?There are signs of upturned patches, baby plants, and newness everywhere, and I pride myself on knowing what’s going on in my village.
Not, like,myvillage, but the property I manage for work.
I’m totally not getting my streams crossed, but I’m also glad I don’t have to be my usual, sensible self tonight, because it feels as though we’ve wandered into an enchanted fairy garden. Strings of twinkle lights ring the gnarled trunk of a gumbo limbo tree that can’t be much taller than me, and a stone walkway winds through the drought-resistant plants and gravel.
Xeriscapingis what they call that, a word I admittedly know because I perused Noah’s website and learned about his dedication to choosing plants that’ll survive arid climates, minimizing the need for irrigation.
A small pond surrounded by rock sits off to the right, with a mini waterfall that flows into a tinier pond with koi fish and water lilies. As we putter past, Noah explains that plants play a critical role in filtering a pond, in addition to providing necessary shade for the hot summer months.
“My main goal is to decrease water use while increasing pollinators.” Using the runoff from the surrounding vegetation, he’s built a self-sustaining ecosystem, down to the solar lights that provide a soothing golden glow. “It took me a while to get the good ol’ boys at the city onboard, but we’re a third of the way there.”
The passion for his career rings through, ambition a trait I hadn’t attributed to him without even bothering to find out. I ask how he got into the business, and he makes a joke about his love of playing in the mud and finding plants easier to get along with than most people.
As we round the corner, I catch sight of sectioned off plots of earth, soil recently overturned. Flanking either side are a dozen raised flowerbeds that catapult my excitement to the next level and leave me bouncing in my seat. “So the residents can garden?”
“That’s the idea,” Noah says.
I can definitely envision the gang out here. Vonetta would walk the rows, unable to stop herself from giving advice, while Gertie went along and assured everyone they were doing great; Bette would crack jokes as the bubbies reaped enough organic produce to feed their brood of grandchildren; and Grandma Helen would water and till with precision while Wanda dug her nails full of dirt getting in touch with Mother Nature.
“Hire a landscaper and then insist on doing the labor yourself,” Noah says with a baffled shake of his head, so I keep it to myself that the idea for a community garden was mine. I pitched the idea to Jan a couple of weeks ago, after researching the wellness benefits and conducting a poll that suggested a high level of interest in renting beds—it brought in another revenue stream without much extra work, and admittedly, I thought it’d been a stroke of genius.
Jan hadn’t indicated much interest, nor did she reply to my follow-up email. Lately she’s been fairly MIA, so I’m just happy she took on an action item and that it’s already done so I can cross it off.
“Well, you’re giving us such a discount,” I tease Noah. “It only seems fair we have the residents do some of the work, too.”
His chuckle and light pinch of my thigh send my pulse on a high-speed race. My stomach lifts as we careen around the pond, the golf cart headed in the opposite direction I expected. I cling to his arm, wrapping as much of me around him as I can as we drive through the droopy branches of a weeping willow.
A few yards shy of the trunk, Noah flips our vehicle around, pointing us so we’re staring out at the pond and the soft glow of the solar lights. Leafy green curtains sway in the breeze, semi-obscuring our view and leaving us partially hidden as well.
As the noise from the engine fades, nature sounds filter through. Birds, frogs, and crickets are getting noisy about their mating calls. I can’t exactly blame them, as everything inside me screams longing and desire, too. “What you’ve done with this space, Noah, it’s beautiful. How long have you been at it?”
He twists to face me fully, his knees caging mine. “Jan zoomed up to me when I was in the middle of trimming rosebushes a couple of Saturdays ago, and suddenly I’m building side-by-side zen and community gardens, which I gotta say, don’t seem like they’d go well together.”
I laugh. “Dude, she does that. Whenever I hear the motor of her scooter, I steel myself for all sorts of wild scenarios, and yet I’m never prepared.”
We both snicker at that.
“I thought I was getting better at drawing boundaries.” I sigh and melt against him. “Turns out, I just wasn’t around any manipulators over the age of sixty.”
His huff of laughter shakes his broad shoulders, and I get a contact high, suddenly sixteen again. “You’re not kidding. I earned my reputation in this city as the guy who says no, end of sentence. But then my grandparents split up, and somehow, I’ve become their go-between and errand boy.”
We’re holding hands again, and this time he initiated, snatching it off my lap and toying with my fingers.
I focus on the euphoric drag and the building heat, both beneath my skin and radiating outward. My mission tonight is to live in the present, and Noah Drayton certainly looks like a gift I’d like to unwrap.
“You never contacted me about that date.” All my willpower to remain in the here and now has been in vain. With the words out in the air, leaving my chest achy and raw, I will him to confirm whether it was the project, if he’d lost interest until I was convenient again, or if I’d misread pretty obvious signals.
“I should’ve. Jan mentioned you wanted the gardens finished by the open house, so I…” He rakes his fingers through his hair, leaving it adorably disheveled as his eyes lock on mine. “I will. I just wanted you to have what you needed first.”
My heart flip-flops in my chest, and I say, “Thank you for that,” in spite of Jan ascribing deadlines I hadn’t given. Although, for the record, by the open house would be my preference for everything. At last check, occupancy rates were at 76 percent, very much improved, but far enough to go that it put additional pressure on these last few weeks. “You keep showing up.”
