“Oh yes.” She reached into her bag and whipped it out.
His lips twitched. “You weren’t kidding when you said all your tools are pink.” Taking the tape, he pulled out the end. “Hold this while I walk to the other end.”
The smallwhirof the tape in her fingertips shouldn’t have an effect on her, but somehow it felt oddly familiar to be linked to Crew by the metal tape.
Once they set all the stakes and had a loose form, she sat down on the grass to sketch. Crew sank down next to her so he could see what she was doing.
Without glancing up from the page, she knew exactly where every inch of his body was. One long leg hugged by denim extended outward and the other knee hitched up. His muscled chest seemed to take up half the garden plot. And he smelled good, like citrus and cedar.
“Can you tell me more about the people who will use this garden?”
He made a noise in his throat, like he was clearing it. “Veterans here for therapy. They’re from all branches of the military with all levels of skill.”
She drew four big quadrants for vegetable gardens and a berry patch. Then she added a small trellis to support grapevines.
“Some of the guys have physical constraints. In wheelchairs or on crutches. One walks with a cane. A few are missing fingers or other appendages.”
While he spoke, her eyes misted. She shook her head. “They’ve given so much for their country…for all of us.” She lifted her gaze to Crew. “Are you…?”
He nodded. “I’m a resident.”
Her breath caught. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. You just seem so…”
“Normal?”
She chuckled. “Sorry for sticking my foot in my mouth when we met. I didn’t know anything about you or the Black Heart that day in the hardware store.”
A shadow moved in the depths of his brown eyes, and it wasn’t a cloud moving in front of the sun. “Some of us carry our scars on the inside.”
She stopped breathing. The pain in his voice sliced through her, even as she recognized the truth of the words. She carried her scars on the inside too.
Their stares met, and whatever he saw on her face made him nod. It seemed Crew understood life in ways a lot of people didn’t, which drew her to him.Plus, he was hot enough that she almost had to close her eyes to black out any future daydreams she’d be having about him.
“You’re new to the area,” he said.
“Yes, I work at the greenhouse. But Cathy at the post office started telling customers about me, so now it seems I have a small side business.” She waved the pencil over the plan she’d sketched, inspiration hitting. “We need raised beds for those in wheelchairs. And some benches where others can sit and work too. More benches for people to meditate or just commune with nature.” She talked faster as she sketched little rectangles all over the sheet. “And bird feeders! Birdhouses! Birdbaths!”
She couldn’t draw fast enough, and Crew laughed.
She flashed a smile at him even as she cocked her head, thinking of more. “We need shade too. Perhaps a small wind sail that stretches over part of the yard, since there aren’t any trees. And a shed to store tools.”
“That would be great.” The low rumble of his voice made her pulse leap.
“You know what else would be nice? A water feature. Plants with koi? Can koi fish even live in Wyoming over winter? I’ll have to check on that.” She scribbled a side note in the margin.
A prickle of awareness washed over her, and she realized that Crew was staring at her. Nibbling her lip, she met his gaze. “Too much?”
He shook his head, sending the notes of citrus and cedar dancing across her senses again. “You really get it.” He sounded…stunned by her. And she hadn’t done anything special or extraordinary.
Her ex would have scoffed at all of her ideas and only given her sketch a careless glance before declaring that he had to get back to work, and the high school football team he coached couldn’t win their eighth playoffs in a row by sitting around drawing dumb gardens.
Now a cloud had moved overher.
She slowly stood and tucked the pencil behind her ear. Crew straightened to his full height of over six feet of impressive muscle bronzed by working hard in the sun.
“Think we have enough space for all these ideas?” she asked him.
He scrubbed a knuckle over his jaw, adding a rasping noise to her sensory overload. “Willow is the person to ask.”
