Whiskey and Country

* * *

The next morning, I woke up around six with renewed energy, ready to jumpstart my day. Still, I had leftover angst running inside me. Outside, the sun was bright and the sky blue, so I decided to put my pent-up energy to good use and focus on the yard. With the mowed lawn and freshly painted walls and borders, the house already looked better. And less like an abandoned dwelling. Soon it would be presentable from the outside for any of the future buyers.

At the garden center, I picked up bags of soil and garden tools.

I halted my steps when I entered the flowers aisle. Who knew there were many species in different shades of bright colors?

A young man in his teens, wearing a green apron, walked to me. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking to buy some of those,” I said, indicating the varieties of flowers before me, “to fill the flower beds at my house. Anything you could suggest?”

The man laughed. “You should ask your woman. Full sunlight or shade, I can help ya with that. Anything else, nope. Girls usually love that part, you know. They tend to be better too. Not that you’re not—”

I lifted a hand to shut him up. “Yeah, I get what you mean. Gimme time to think about it.” I didn’t care which flowers I picked as long as they were purple. Dahlia mentioned something about loving this color the other night. And for a reason that made no sense, I loved the idea she’d find them pretty if she ever visited my place.

Just the thought of that woman was enough to curl my lips in a ridiculous grin.

In the next aisle, I admired the swatches of paint on card stripes. The front door could use a splash of color. Something vibrant. I’d seen it on a job the other day. A farmhouse painted in white with a red door. Not sure about the red, I spread sample cards on the counter, studying the display.

I rubbed my nape, my eyes drifting from one card to the next.

First, the flowers, now the door. Maybe that kid was right, and I really required a woman’s help after all.

Digging my phone out of my back pocket, I sent a picture to my best friend in town. After all, didn’t she tell me home decor was her specialty?

Me: Hey. Want to paint my front door. Something fierce and good-looking. Give the house some personality. Which color? Unlike you, I’m bad at this. Desperate for an expert opinion. Help a guy out.

I pressed send, wondering if she would reply. Dahlia Ellis was a busy woman.

A thought popped into my head as the chime announced the message had gone through.

Me: Forget it. I’ll deal with this later. It’s your day with Addison. Don’t answer me.

My phone went off, and Dahlia’s name appeared on the screen. I froze, my fingers debating whether to accept the call or not.

You’re being ridiculous. You’re the one who messaged her.

Drilling some sense into my brain, I answered after the fourth ring.

Her cheery tone flushed my hesitation. “So glad you reached out. I knew you’d ask for my help at some point. What color is the house?”

“It’s a two-story white farmhouse. The front porch is stained in a walnut shade. Everything else is white, except for the shutters, which are black. What do you think about painting the front door red or some other color? You know I’m not skilled with decor stuff. I’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes, unable to commit to a color.”

“Ohmygod. I wish I could see the look on your face right now. Are you scratching your forehead? Are your armpits wet?” The sound of her laughter soothed me. Again. Even when she was teasing me. Especially when she was teasing me.

“Make fun of me all you want. It’s a very serious decision, and I was hoping you could help me make the best choice.”

“Switch to video chat,” she told me.

“Why? So, you can laugh at my face?”

“Absolutely. And it will also be easier if I see what you’re seeing.”

“No. It can wait.” I cringed. “I remembered it was your day with Addison after I pressed send.”

“Oh Nick, don’t be silly. If it wasn’t the right time, I would have said so. Now switch to video chat. I’m actually proud you’re asking me.”

I breathed out my relief as my finger fumbled with the screen. Last night’s rejection didn’t shadow her words. The disquiet that had gotten me agitated all morning dissipated. Perhaps I didn’t require her help as much as to confirm we were okay.

Dahlia’s face appeared on my screen, and I almost choked on my own air. “Oh, you’re busy. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She must have seen my amusement because she added, “Don’t let the face mask distract ya, Nick. It’s avocado and concrete.”

“Concrete?” I asked.

Laughter resonated from beside her, and Addison’s face replaced Dahlia’s. “Hi handsome. Don’t make her laugh or that thing will crack. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually made of concrete, though. Bye Nick.”

“Bye Addi,” I said as Dahlia grabbed the phone back from her friend.

Her lips tilted. And I smiled back. Again, I was falling under her magnetism. Head—and heart—first. And no security net to catch me.

Even with a green paste on her face, she looked stunning. She had her hair tied in a knot at the top of her head and some sort of pale pink bathrobe on.

Her moss-green eyes sparkled.

God, she was gorgeous.

“I have to say, the frown across your forehead made my day. Now turn the camera around.” Oh yeah, the paint samples. Distracted, I regained some control over myself and did as instructed. “Teal,” Dahlia said without hesitating. “Red would look great, but teal will give it a fresh vibe. Yeah, teal it is.”

I blinked, speechless. “Love how assured you can be. Have time for another mission? Unless it’s time to get rid of that—that thing,” I said, my finger drawing circles in the air over the screen.”

“Bring it on. Please. Anything to forget my face is itchy and feeling like it’s carved in stone.”

I heard Addison complaining from where I couldn’t see her. “It’s torture. Spa day is supposed to be relaxing.”

Dahlia shook her head, unable to smile fully, thanks to that mortar-avocado mix.

Ten minutes later, together, we had chosen an assortment of flowers.

“Woman, you weren’t kidding. From now on, you’ll be my personal interior designer. Or the chief of the landscape department. The job is yours. And don’t even think about passing up on it.”

Dahlia snickered, the sound addictive, her gaze radiating happiness. “Still on for later tonight?”

“Yes. Unless you’re too tired after your day.”

Her laughter intensified. “Nick, it’s spa day. It’s to relax and stuff, but I won’t be exhausted from getting pampered. Believe me. I’ll need some action after that.”

“Okay then. Ping me when you’re free.”

“I will. Bye, Nick.”

Why did every time my name passed Dahlia’s lips, my heart banged louder in my chest? And my body hummed to the melody of her voice?

Not ready to assess the what-ifs of our blossoming relationship, I buried the thought deep down and finished my errands.

My heart moved around in my chest, unable to stay still.

* * *