I laughed. “I promise, it’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to getting back to normal life.”
That, at least, was the God’s honest truth, even if the normal I craved was wildly different from what I’d left behind a year ago.
“Well, in that case, you want to finish your coffee and join me for a run? Cornbread and I are usually already out by this time.”
I grinned at her. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Six
Tate
I pulled into Mrs. Fairchild’s circular driveway, gravel crunching under the tires of my work truck. The two-story Victorian loomed before us, its weathered white paint and black shutters a testament to its age. Hints of what must have once been spectacular gardens peeked through years of neglect—the skeletal remains of rose bushes, thick clusters of untamed hydrangeas, and patches of wild violets dotting the lawn. My fingers itched to restore the grounds to their former glory, to resurrect the careful landscaping that had clearly been someone’s pride and joy. As a landscaper, I could envision how the property had looked in its heyday, with manicured topiaries and neat brick-lined flower beds that would have perfectly complemented the home’s Victorian charm. Just the idea of the project had my creative juices flowing.
But the moment I looked back at the house, my heart tripped into a gallop. Not because I was usually nervous about client meetings—I did them all the time and had spent the past year doing them on my own—but because this one had come to us because of the article. This would be the first one since Kellan’s return. The first one since this whole engagement mess had started. Since that kiss that had kept me tossing in my dreams last night.
“You’re already planning the whole restoration in your head, aren’t you?”
I jolted at the sound of Kellan’s voice. “I was, but now—” The words clogged in my throat. Now all I could think about was walking into that house, presenting ourselves as business partners who were also romantically involved. The lie settled like lead in my stomach.
Kellan laid a hand on my knee, his voice dropping. “We’ve done hundreds of these meetings. Nothing’s changed.”
Everything had changed. The warmth of his palm soaked through my jeans, shooting sparks up my leg. Which was crazy. He’d always been a physically affectionate guy. A casual hug here, a hand on the shoulder there. But this felt different. More intimate. More…everything.
And I wanted more.
That was the problem.
I couldn’t look at him without remembering how his lips had felt against mine, how his arms had wrapped around me in the high school parking lot. How was I supposed to go back to seeing him as just my best friend and business partner now? I couldn’t un-know any of that.
I jerked away, yanking the keys from the ignition. “We should go in.”
“Hey.” He caught my wrist before I could open the door. “Look at me.”
I turned, caught in those blue eyes I’d known most of my life, and felt my stomach flip.
“You’ve been running this business solo for a year. You’ve got this. We’ve got this.” His fingers slid down to tangle with mine. “Besides, what better way to sell ourselves than as the happy couple from the article?”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Then let me worry about that part.” He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “You focus on the actual consult.”
The gesture knocked the air from my lungs. He’d done it at the cookout last night in front of our friends and family. Now here he was doing it more or less in private. He was getting way too into this role he was playing, and I was afraid of what the consequences for me would be when all this was over.
“Right.” I squeezed his hand and released it to slide out of the truck. But my skin still tingled from where he’d touched me. I curled my fingers into my palm, though whether it was to hold or erase the feeling, I didn’t know.
The front door swung open before we reached the porch steps. A woman in her seventies with elegantly coiffed silver hair emerged, her face lighting up. “You must be the Fox and Cavanaugh team from Mountain Laurel Landscaping. Oh, but I should say the future Mr. and Mrs. Fox!”
Oh, God. She’d seen the article in the local paper, too. Not just the feature in Southeastern Landscape Design Digest. My cheeks burned. I opened my mouth to say… something, but Kellan slid an arm around my waist, pulling me close.
“That’s right. Though she hasn’t decided if she wants to take my name.” He extended his free hand. “Kellan Fox, and this is my fiancée, Tate Cavanaugh.”
Mrs. Fairchild clasped both our hands in turn. “I was so touched by your story in the paper. Childhood sweethearts building a business together. And now engaged!”
Kellan grinned and laced his fingers with mine. “I’m a lucky man.”
I wanted to sink into the ground. Every word he spoke twisted the knife of guilt deeper.
Mrs. Fairchild gestured to the overgrown yard. “My late husband, Charles, and I built these gardens together over forty years. After he passed two years ago, I just...couldn’t face maintaining them alone. But when I saw your article, how you two share that same love of growing things together...” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I knew you’d understand what these gardens mean. Not just any landscaping company would do.”
