She eyes the road ahead of us, the wildflower fields to our right and Eve’s bungalow straight ahead in the distance. “They also said there’s a number of benches scattered around the property and a cafe in the gift shop that we’re welcome to hang out in if the sun is too hot or I just need to rest for a few minutes.”
I nod. None of this is new to me. “Well, you let me know the second you need to get off your feet, alright?”
“I will, Ryder.” She pats my arm. “You sit me down on a bench and continue the tour on your own, okay? I don’t want you to miss out.”
My brow furrows as I glance at her. “You realize I’ve been here a number of times, right? I’ve gotten essentially multiple private tours of this property.”
She shrugs. “But you haven’t gotten the full experience, have you? And it sounds like you were doing more kissing than listening,” she says, knocking me with her elbow.
I shake my head, taking a long breath in, and when I turn back to her, she’s only grinning.
She glances around, spying a sign attached to a vintage bicycle covered in fresh sunflowers that marks this area as the tour starting point, and takes a few slow steps in that direction.
“Looks like we’re here,” she says, giving me a big smile.
“Looks like we are.”
A second later, a voice rings out from behind us. “Welcome to the Sunflower Hill Sunflower Farm and Preserve! You must be Nora.”
My entire body warms.
Gam keeps a strong hand on my elbow as we turn, as if I’m going to take off running in another direction.
And there she is in front of us, sun-kissed hair thrown into a messy bun on the top of her head and her overalls hanging off one shoulder. Her pocket is overflowing with wildflowers, and I note that she has one sunflower in herhand, held out in front of her like she was planning to give it to my grandmother.
Her eyes go wide when she recognizes me, and I’m sure a similar expression is plastered to my face.
Gam, however, only grins. “Did I forget to mention I booked us a private tour with the owner herself?”
18
EVE
While my to-do list only manages to get longer each day, I’m not one to turn away free money. So when an elderly woman named Nora Livingston—her maiden name, I presume—called the gift shop requesting a private tour with me personally and offered to pay whatever pretty penny we desire, I didn’t hesitate to work with her.
I’m not in the business of taking advantage of customers, so I charged her the normal rate for a private tour and prepared to put my best guest face on—if she decides to give a generous donationaftera tour she enjoyed, I won't refuse it.
Of course, thatwasmy plan until I see Nora Livingston walk up on the arm of Ryder Blackwell.
It takes me half a second to put the pieces together in my head.
The grandmother who lives in the senior community across the street. The disability she mentioned over the phone that must have been her recent hip replacement. The somewhat out-of-the-blue and overenthusiastic insistencethat her grandson is such a kind-hearted, good-intentioned man who wants nothing more than for her to be happy and healthy.
It struck me as odd, but given how busy the farm has been over the past few days, I promptly forgot about it.
And now Ryder Blackwell is carting his still-recovering grandmother around my farm for the sake of trying to get on my good side. I have no doubt he put her up to this, assuming he could win my favor by showing me how much he cares abouthisgrandmother, just like I cared so much about mine.
I let out a quick breath through my nose, holding the sunflower out for Nora.
“Welcome gift for you,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “Since you said you weren’t up for field activities, I thought I’d pick a sunflower for you, but if you think you can manage the path along the edge of the fields, we can still do the pick-your-own-bouquet activity at the end. You let me know what you’re up for and we’ll adjust accordingly.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” she says, taking the sunflower and arranging it with the stem in her purse, the bloom adorning one side. She looks up at Ryder, quickly patting him on the arm. “Want to say hello to your friend?”
He clears his throat, doing his best to put on a smile. “Give me a second to catch up, Gam. You kind of sprung this on me,” he says, pressing his lips together as he turns to me and nods quickly. “Eve.”
She waits for a moment to see if he’ll say anything else, then snorts. “He’s a talker, this one.”
“Gam,” he scolds.
