“We’ve been busy.” Tension hummed in his muscles.
“You have a few pieces of mail too.” She slid a couple envelopes toward him.
“Thanks.” Without another word, he turned for the exit. In the truck, he glanced at the mail. Two junk. One letter from his sister.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Either Conner’s brother only told him off on special occasions or he’d moved on, which meant Crew had escaped Hellhornandangry mail today. He’d take it as a win.
Next, a stop at the hardware store. The vets in the program helped out on the ranch if they were able, performing everything from mucking out barn stalls to repairing tractors and endless miles of fence.
He quickly entered the country hardware store and made a beeline for the staples. He located what he needed, grabbed two boxes, and strode to the checkout.
The older gentleman behind the counter greeted him in the same gruff manner as always. “This on the Black Heart account?”
“Yup.”
A lowthumpsounded behind him, and Crew turned to see the woman from the post office behind him, her arms loaded with dead plants. One lay on the floor at her feet.
Their gazes met as a second pot hit the floor, and he stepped forward as the third one tipped.
* * * * *
Fern didn’tbelievethe man standing in front of her thought she was crazy—she read it in his eyes.
As the second houseplant she was juggling landed by his cowboy boots, he started to pick it up at the same time another pot near her elbow toppled.
“Oh!” She shifted her arms, hoping to keep all seven of the precious little dears from falling.
When she came to the hardware store for towel hooks, she happened to pass a display of dry, shriveled-up houseplants. Shecouldn’tjust leave them behind.
Giggling at her ridiculous snap decision to buy them all, she loaded her arms and hoped she didn’t drop any.
But if she had to drop them, at least it was at the feet of a hunky cowboy.
He scooped up both fallen pots, moving like a mountain might, slow and deliberate, with a restrained power that made her admire the broadest set of shoulders she’d ever seen. So broad that the gray T-shirt he wore stretched nearly threadbare in spots.
As he straightened, he caught her stare, his eyes the color of rich brown earth.
He set the plants on the counter and faced her again.
“No plant left behind.” Fern gave him an awkward little smile, then leaned in to say, “Thank you for your service.”
He didn’t laugh at her joke. From the corner of her eye, she saw the clerk grimace.
The cowboy just lifted his hand and touched the brim of his hat as a show of acceptance. Then he took his items and left.
Fern shuffled up to the counter and gently tilted the rest of the plants onto the surface.
The older clerk wearing a shirt with the name of the hardware store eyed her.
She offered a smile. “I hope you’re having a good day. It was nice of that guy to help me.”
One grizzled gray brow twitched upward. “You know he’s from the Black Heart Ranch.”
Did that mean the cowboy worked on the ranch? Or owned it? Maybe he was a bigwig in Willowbrook and she hadn’t been here long enough to know.
The man held up a pot with a wilted spider plant and gave it a dubious look before placing it in a shallow box. When Fern walked out carrying the box full of plants and the towel hooks she’d come for, the mountain breeze swirled her hair around her shoulders.
She didn’t grow up in the mountains, but she’d call it the best decision of her life to move here. She had everything she needed—a cozy apartment that didn’t cost much, a simple life working in the greenhouse. Recently, she’d started picking up odd landscaping jobs, which filled her soul in ways she never expected.
