Where the darkness could so easily drag me back into his arms.
Richard.
My spirit whispered his name.
My mind was quick to put a lid on it.
That was just reckless thinkin’. Especially with him near. It was a whole ton easier to long for him in the nights when he was so far out of reach. What wasn’t so easy was resisting him when he was beggin’ me for face-time.
No chance was I going there. No chance was I giving in.
That connection that came alive when he was around didn’t mean a thing.
It was just lashes crying out from an old broken dream.
I headed down the path toward the acres and acres of flowers. There was basically every breed that would grow on this land and some we tried to bribe with extra love.
Saul saw me coming, already hard at work, probably there since before dawn.
He took off his hat. “Mornin’, Violet.”
“Good mornin’. How are you today?” I called as I approached.
“Better than ever.”
His attitude managed to pull a slight smile out of me.
“Good. Then I am, too.”Two hours later, I was in the shed arranging the buckets for delivery to the florists we supplied. I had my own stand at a couple farmer’s markets as well, but the florists were our bread and butter.
What had kept our flower farm afloat and flourishing through the years.
Business blooming.
That and the select events we hosted on the farm. Weddings and showers and celebrations in the meadow beneath the trees surrounded by flowers.
Daddy had started Rolling Wallflowers from a small flowerbed and three rose bushes in his backyard right after he’d come to Dalton and decided it was home. He’d been passing through from Charlotte on his way to Colorado and had fallen in love with a dream.
It’d probably helped that he’d fallen in love with my mama as he’d been passing through, too.
I carried the first bucket to the trailer hitched to the back of my truck—white lilies, as gorgeous as could be.
I went back and forth, loading everything.
Roses of every color.
Sprigs of greenery.
Baby’s breath.
Orchids.
I double-checked my list of orders.
Saul came carrying the two pygmy willows planted in pots.
“Perfect, thank you, Saul.” I brushed the dirt from my hands. “I think that’s it. If you could prune the palms at the back, we have a big order for those goin’ out to Charleston next week. That should be good for the day.”
“Already on my list.”
“You’re always two steps ahead of me, aren’t you?” I said with a slight smile as I shut the doors to the trailer and started to work the metal lock into place. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
He’d been working here for the last year and had quickly become invaluable.
He reached out to help me get it latched. “Ah, I’d say two steps behind.”
I froze when his hand touched mine.
When it lingered.
I stared at his thumb that slowly brushed across the tiny tattoo at the inside of my wrist.
A music note.
Just lookin’ at it made me ache. But that was the thing about taking something on as permanent. It was written on you forever. It didn’t matter if I had the tiny design removed. It would still be marked on me. Scored on my soul.
“I always wanted to ask you about this. Do you play?” he asked, his head tilting to the side. Handsome in his unassuming way. Dark eyes and dark hair.
A quiet kindness in his demeanor.
I knew where his mind had been going of late. The way he’d been lookin’ at me. The way his smile had gotten softer and his stare had grown longer.
Slowly, I tugged my hand away, trying not to be rude, trying not to make a big deal out of him touching me that way, but sure I was doing it, anyway.
An uncomfortable smile wobbled on my mouth.
“No,” I mumbled.
“But you have a music note tattooed on your wrist,” he asked, half confused, half amused.
My trembling lips pressed into a flat line. “I guess it’s just a reminder of how easy it is to get lost in a song.”
I thought maybe he felt the undercurrent. That there was so much more to that statement because he frowned.
Searching through my expression as if it might give him the insight to understand.
Awkwardness hovered in the space between. Finally, he stepped back as if he could burst the bubble of it, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Well, I guess you better get going.”
“Yeah. I should.”
I fumbled away and into the truck, and I buckled as I watched Saul wander back up the trail into the rows of flowers, shoulders hanging lower than they normally did.
“Shit,” I muttered.
I squeezed my eyes closed as I tried to sort out what had just happened. How I felt about it.
Richard’s face flashed behind my lids.