“Very.” Her smile packed a punch. “Still, these are beautiful.” She swept her hand through the air to indicate the panorama of flowers and color spread out before them.
“Beautiful is an appropriate word in more ways than one,” he said, speaking more of her than the flowers.
Her jet-black hair and Mediterranean coloring must come from her mother, he figured, since Farnsworth wasn’t an ethnic name. Those blue eyes stood out against her olive skin, like two deep pools, beckoning to him, making it difficult for him to follow the thread of their conversation.
Somehow he pulled the subject from the back of his mind. “The town’s beautification committee works hard on maintaining this area.”
“I’m so used to the city, being able to see so much color and space is such a treat.”
And her appreciation of something he passed by every day and took for granted touched him deeply, prompting him to explain more about their origins. “There’s a yearly event to raise money to fund this area. It’s a big, formal party at Faith Barron’s house over Labor Day weekend.”
“Who?”
Sam shook his head and laughed. “Right. You’re not a local. Did you notice that big house on the hill when you drove into town?”
“How could I not? It resembles my childhood home.”
He let out a whistle. “Nice.” And way out of his league.
She laughed. “No, the mansion here is much grander. It just happens to remind me of my parents’ home. The way it’s set off from reality and obviously meant to impress, that sort of thing.” She shifted from foot to foot. “But it’s not who I am at all,” she said, as if desperate for him to understand and still accept her.
He nodded in grateful understanding. He didn’t want a spoiled princess in his life—and if he had his way, this understated woman would, at the very least, end up in his bed. Still, she was clearly the kind of girl he’d be taking his time with, and he appreciated that about her.
“So back to the house on the hill,” he said. “Faith and Ethan Barron live there now, and they’re nothing like Faith’s parents, who were the previous owners.”
“That’s unusual,” she murmured.
He nodded. “It is. And yet it’s very right. You and Faith have a lot in common. She’s down to earth and sweet.” Nicole blushed, but Sam merely continued. “Now that you’re living here, I’m sure you’ll meet them at one point or another.”
She smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“Want to sit?” Sam pointed to the empty bench beneath the white gazebo.
She nodded and walked up the few steps, easing down on the wooden seat. He settled in beside her.
“This is the best part of the summer,” she said, relaxing and leaning back.
“What is?”
“This time of day. The sun doesn’t set until late. When I was younger, my sister and I would stay outside until it turned dark.” Her lips lifted upward at the memory. “We’d play games and make up stories. Anything to avoid going back into that cold, empty house with people who . . . people like my parents.” She shivered but clammed up, obviously realizing she’d said more than she wanted to.
As far as Sam was concerned, she hadn’t said enough.
“Thanks for showing me this place.” She stretched her legs out in front of her and let out a blissful sigh.
His groin responded to the sound. “My pleasure. So . . . you told me why you chose Serendipity, but why the move in the first place?” He asked the question dogging him since he’d discovered she was here.
She turned to face him, her gaze serious. “Because I was finished living my life for others.”
He already knew that meant her parents.
“I liked the town . . . and the people from when I was in town before. Despite the horrible situation, I felt a connection here.”
She didn’t shift her gaze from his, warming him with her statement, which clearly included him.
“I’m here for me.” She shrugged. “It was really that simple.”
So much . . . and so little revealed, Sam thought, intrigued by her. “What are your plans?”