Hearts in Bloom (5 page)

Her mad built as she heard the first ring, the second. On the third ring, she began composing a message for voice mail. A woman answered.

“Hello?” The voice sounded young, maybe her age. A baby cried in the background.

Ivy hesitated, her mad-on deflating.
Wrong number?
“Yes…I’m trying to reach CJ Wilson?”

“He’s not in just now. Can I take a message?”

Oh, God. He’s married.
Acid churned as John’s rejection resurfaced. Would that horror show repeat indefinitely? “Um…I’m sorry to bother you at home. I needed to give him some business information—he’s helping us with internet stuff—and his cell…it, I was trying to find him—” She cut herself off and took a breath. The baby’s crying grew louder. “Can you ask him to call Ivy at McVey Gardens? It’s not important.”

“Hey—McVey Gardens. Did you guys send that bouquet of nasty dead flowers?” The woman laughed. “That was classic!”

She’s okay with other women sending him flowers?
“Yes. Actually I picked out the flowers personally.”
Maybe they’re into sharing, threesomes, or whatever. Not how I’d choose to roll, but it takes all kinds.

“I’ll tell him you called. You said his cell wasn’t picking up?”

Ivy’s neck and cheeks flamed. “He’s probably out of range. I left messages earlier but he hasn’t called back. It’s no big deal. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No problem,” the woman answered with a sunny tone. She so didn’t need to be cheerful when talking to her husband’s newest would-be conquest. It was irritating.

“Bye. And thank you,” Ivy said by rote.

“Bye,”
came the chirpy response. The line disconnected. Ivy’s ear echoed with the fussy baby’s cries as a new fury filled her with red heat.
Wow. That guy has balls.
At least John had been married for fifteen years or more and didn’t have any kids.
A baby! What a witch that makes me! And him, stepping out on a woman who labored and gave birth for him within the last year or so.

The final hour ticked past before she could leave the shop. As soon as she got home, she changed into grubby clothes and headed to the greenhouses, choosing one empty of workers so she wouldn’t be forced to talk to anyone. On the board, the list of chores included deadheading, a task perfectly suited to her mood. Shears in hand, she worked her way down a row of yellow carnations, trimming spent blossoms and any leaves showing decay. She flipped the browning heads to the floor and kept moving.

Boy did I get taken for a ride. Is it like flowers—I go for the pretty ones?
Dazzling smile and hazel eyes flashed through her mind.
And this one really was pretty.

What is wrong with me? I just want a man who is the family business type…one who can put up with Mom and Dad and Jake and me and the greenhouse life. Someone equally comfortable at weddings and funerals and hospitals.
Her breath increased and her nostrils flared. She snorted.

Someone who is loyal. Sympathetic. Decisive in a crisis, good to lean on—someone with a cool head who isn’t married and isn’t swayed by bridezillas and weeping widows
.

An image of fingernails, heels, and Coach
bag flashed across her memory. He wasn’t fazed by her. And the flowers seemed totally natural to him. What kind of unmarried guy understood that stuff? God—was that the real reason the woman was angry—he’d cheated with her first and she found out he was married?

What does Jake know that I don’t? It’s not like he’s found the right girl yet.

Snip snip snip
went her shears.

Why didn’t Jake say he’d delivered them to a woman with a baby? Was that the reason for the weird look he gave me when I said I was having dinner with CJ? If he suspected CJ was married, why didn’t he say anything?

She clipped an entire plant’s blossoms before remembering she was only supposed to dead-head. Snarling in disgust, she set the clippers down and fetched the rake.

I’ll tell him I can’t see him anymore after we straighten out the mess with the 800-number service. Love the car and you’re delicious and all, but some lines I will not cross. Again.
Last time she gave up grad school but had home to hide in. Where could she hide now? The corner behind her back was far too close.

Her stomach tightened. The rake churned the pumice as she swept the flower heads and leaves from the aisle. Sweat trickled down her temple. She pulled gloves on and gathered the trimmings into a 5-gallon bucket then hauled them to the compost area. Upending the bucket and spilling dying patches of yellow down the pile brought a small measure of release.

Is this the rest of my life—dropping boyfriends on the compost heap like Taylor Swift?

Yes, if you keep going for the flowers. You can’t root the flowers, Dad says
.

She started toward the greenhouse holding her experiment but a haphazard stack of used crates waylaid her. A small breeze chilled her damp neck as she broke down the folding crates and stacked them more neatly, closer to the shed wall. More than one finger got pinched, and she pulled off the glove to see the nail on her ring finger chipped down to the nubbins. Rubbing at it with the opposite hand, she bit her lower lip. She would never be like the woman with the Coach bag. And what was the wife like? She seemed excessively cheerful, another trait Ivy had lost long ago. She pulled the glove back on.

Crunching gravel prompted her to look up the lane toward the highway. She clamped her lips tight at the sight of CJ’s silver BMW. Rooted to the ground she was not. Let him come looking for her. She marched into the aster-zinnia greenhouse and to her lab.

It didn’t take him long to find her. “Ivy,” he called.

Her heart pounded at the sound of his voice. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard; she glanced at him as he neared. He wore cargo shorts again and another close-fitting T-shirt, this time larkspur blue. He turned up his lips into a curious smirk. How dare he get all superior with her, the cheating scum! The smell of her perspiration rose from the neck of her shirt. Maybe the greenhouse odors would disguise her stench. She swallowed and forced her feet to stay planted, but she found the table of asters suddenly very interesting. Her hair fell in a curtain between them. CJ stopped about ten feet away.

“From the message you left I thought I should come out in person.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“You took some trouble to chase me down for someone with nothing to say. Spill it.”

Ivy wiped her sweaty forehead with one wrist, dragging hair across one eye, and looked up at him. A repeated swipe of the wrist did not help. The irritation only fueled the angst from her internal arguments. “Does your wife approve of your customer service?”

CJ blinked at her. A slow smile crept across his face, deepening his dimples. “You talked to my sister-in-law. I don’t have a wife.”

Sister-in-law? He’s not married? Where does my mad get to go now?
She blinked at him. “Why is the phone number in your name?”

“My brother and I have the same first initial. Chaz and CJ. You looked me up in the phone book? How many C. Wilsons did you call?”

Annoyed, she pulled one glove off to brush at the offending hairs, which now tickled her lips. Her fingers stank. She rubbed her palm on her shorts. More than anything at this moment, she wanted a shower and a do-over. Her heart did flip-flops, yet his teasing stung, raising her venom to her tongue. “Are you willing to part with that silver penis you drive for what your website deal has cost us in happy customers this week?”

“Hey—that’s a performance vehicle, and I need it for my job.”

Her heart resumed pounding, bringing equilibrium back. “That link to the 800-number ‘service’ needs to go. I didn’t okay that.” She leaned against the table with one hip, cocking a fist on the other. “We lose money and happy customers that way and get bad word of mouth reviews when we can’t match the photo some slob saw on the internet because the service trickles only pennies to us out of that fee.”

“I had no idea.” CJ pulled his cell phone out of the left thigh pocket. “I’ll call my web guy and we’ll fix it.”

“We’ve had ten people this week pissed off at us.”
Okay, three. I can exaggerate.
She lost the other glove and slapped them onto the table.

CJ’s thumbs tapped busily on his smartphone. “I’ll fix it.”

“My parents put me in charge of this marketing deal of yours and after all that time we spend sticking it together it’s become more trouble—” Tears welled in her eyes and her throat swelled. She crossed her arms.

He glanced at the screen briefly. “It’s fixed.”

She blinked back the tears. “How do I know?”

“Pull up the website later. Could take an hour for him to change all the code to the site. I’ll cancel your membership to the 800-service.”

“Good.” Ivy’s nose began to run in reaction to the stifled tears. She hunted in her pocket for a tissue.

He put his phone back in his thigh pocket and crossed to her. “To be honest, initially I bought the car to impress a girl. She wasn’t worth it. I moved out here to start over. There’s a reason I live with my brother. The payments are tough some months, but I keep the car because it impresses clients. Same with the clothes. Think of it this way—if I was driving a mid-size pickup with paint chips and dented panels, would you have taken me seriously?”

“I didn’t know what you drove when I said yes to meeting with you the first time.” She dabbed her nose with the crumpled tissue she’d found and re-crossed her arms.

“If I had dressed like this?”

Ivy ran her gaze up and down his frame. Undaunted, her heart squeezed at the sight of his broad shoulders, defined arm muscles, well-formed calves and narrow midsection. Warmth spread through her torso and hips. “I still would have wanted a date, yes. Marketing I don’t know that much about. The suits want someone like them to buy from. I get that. And yes, the clothes hooked me too, but here’s the thing, slick—I’ve been burnt by the sharp duds and hot car before. What guarantee have you got you’ll be different?” She looked down as CJ wrapped his arms around her. Her hands snaked to his biceps, testing their solidity. “I’ve dated too many cars.”

“Not enough men.”

“Paper dolls. All of them. No substance, just nice accessories.”

“You’re not an accessory.”

Her mind wasn’t ready to accept his nearness. Her body was more than ready. Ivy allowed her fingers to flex on his arms then slide to his shoulders. She leaned against him, laying her head against his chest. His warmth radiated through the thin cotton shirt into her cheek, soothing. “Men can lie, cheat. Men can use you and throw you away to maintain tenure.”

He pressed his lips into the top of her head in a kiss. “Not a real man. Whoever did that to you was a putz.”

Her voice tightened. “I’m damaged, CJ. I screwed up and it bit me in the ass. The only way to recover was to come home and live with Mom and Dad. I’m not a grown-up.”

CJ rubbed her back with his thumbs and rocked her gently. “Sometimes you need family to help you heal. There is no shame in coming home to the people who love you. I don’t know what I would have done without my brother offering me a place to start over here.”

Tears welled again and spilled over. Ivy closed her eyes and breathed in CJ’s scent, like the tang of carnations. Maybe she should stick with him long enough to find out what his downside was. No man was this perfect, was he?

“Tell you what,” CJ said. “Why don’t you do business with the shirt and tie and the car, and date me?”

She dared look into his hazel eyes. “Are you willing to get dirt under your fingernails?”

“And manure, if need be.”

A laugh escaped. “Sold.”

CJ lowered his lips to hers and sealed their deal.

~~PREVIEW~~

Please enjoy this excerpt from

Echo Falls, Texas Book #1

The Daddy Spell

by

Patti Ann Colt

~~Chapter One~~

Tummy down in the packed dirt near the backyard fence, Boo Harmon scooted next to her twin sister, Lindy. Cicadas buzzed in the tall trees behind their house, a good magical sound. She bent her head close to her sister’s and began the chant. “Shasta, masta, lasta, poo.”

Lindy joined in. “Frogs legs, bat wings, black cat scratch, snatch us a daddy, just like that.” Lindy snapped her fingers. Boo tried a couple of times, but her fingers wouldn’t make the sound. Huffing, she rolled to her back.

“Bibbity, bobbity, boo,” Lindy whispered.

Boo got to her knees, glaring at her sister. “Don’t add that. It won’t work. We need a daddy, not a fairy good mother
.
”

“That’s fairy
god
mother, ya silly head, and it worked for Cinderella. She got a gigantic pumpkin to ride in and a pretty dress and Prince Charming kissed her.” Lindy stuck out her tongue.

Boo returned the gesture. “I’m not a silly head and we don’t want a daddy to kiss us. Well, maybe we do, but we want him to kiss Mommy more.”

“Are too a silly head.”

“Am not!”

Next door, an engine roared. Mr. Pearson pushed his rusted, brown mower back and forth over the dead lawn and dandelions. With his shirt off, his fat rippled like strawberry Jell-O and his fierce scowl made Boo want to run and hide. On the turn, the lawn mower died in a puff of blue smoke.

Mr. Pearson kicked the tires and swore.

Boo sucked in a breath. “Lindy, maybe we’d better not
use our spell here. I don’t want him to be our daddy. He says too many bad words and Mommy wouldn’t like that.”

“You’re right.” Lindy got to her feet.

Boo rose, too, and brushed off her favorite shorts.

They wanted a daddy. Mommy refused to look. Santa didn’t deliver daddies. The Easter bunny and the Tooth Fairy didn’t either. So, they were going to get one themselves by using the spell from the story Mommy read them.

Lindy remained quiet for a minute, chewing on her lip. “He’s too fat anyway. I want our daddy to give us piggyback rides without getting red in the face and snorting like he does.” She snorted like a pig in imitation.

Boo shrieked, giggling until her stomach hurt.

Mr. Pearson approached the fence, pointing a finger at them. “Git.”

Scared by the big man, Boo grabbed her sister’s hand and raced to the back porch, sitting on the top step. The hot wind tossed brown leaves across the sidewalk below them. “I want our daddy to chase the icky things out from under my bed.”

“I want our daddy to read
Green Eggs and Ham
and have a nice, warm lap.” Lindy sighed.

“And he’ll be big and strong and won’t yell and will like hot dogs and peanut butter and jelly and not broccoli.” Boo’s stomach squished. “
Blek.”

“He has to be somebody Mommy really likes and he has to kiss her like they do on TV.” Lindy twisted the strand of hair until her finger turned red.

Boo released the hair, rescuing Lindy’s finger. There had never been a daddy around their house, not even one. On TV, a daddy looked like something pretty special. “So where do we look next? We
need
a daddy.”

Boo balanced her elbows on her knees and watched the rolling, gray clouds cover the sun while she thought of an answer. Mommy was great. Except for broccoli, she gave them good things to eat, took them for car rides in the country and gave the best hugs and kisses.

But there were some things only a daddy could do. Boo frowned, remembering just that morning. A daddy could make Mommy not cry.

Lindy shrugged her shoulders. “We have to use the spell someplace else.”

Boo pulled Lindy up from the steps and they linked hands.

“Girls?” Mommy came around the side of the house. “You want to go for a drive?”

Boo looked at Lindy and grinned. “Sure,” they yelled together.

Mommy walked to the car. “Let’s go, then, before it rains.” Boo and Lindy hurried to catch up.

The grocery store. The library. The park. Everywhere Mommy took them they’d try the spell for a daddy.

They needed him. Mommy needed him.

An hour later, Robin Harmon listened to her daughters whispering in the backseat and peeked in the rearview mirror to watch their faces. They were such a joy and today she needed their good cheer. She had submitted job applications at three different places with uncertain, depressing prospects.

She turned the corner and started down the next country road highlighted on her map, intent on learning her way around the area. They wouldn’t go far, but she didn’t want to return home yet. Their shabby house wasn’t located in the best neighborhood and the atmosphere kept her nerves at a fingernail biting edge. If she hadn’t been so naïve and idealistic about the girls’ father, she’d be in veterinarian school now instead of single and locked in financial distress. A little detour through the country would shake off her doldrums.

Turning her head, she listened to them exchange secrets and smiled. She wouldn’t trade her daughters for an education or for money, but sometimes her mood shifted like Texas weather. Lifting her foot off the gas, she slowed the car, determined to settle her disposition with a slow and easy drive.

Her twenty-year-old, compact Toyota sped along for several miles. Cool air blew across her elbow, propped in the open window. The temperature drop felt good after the intense heat of the mid-September afternoon. The sky darkened and a cascade of pelting raindrops hit her windshield. She pulled her arm inside the car and rolled up the window. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if the brunt of the storm was hitting south of Echo Falls, Texas—her new home.

A dog came out of nowhere. The large size blob of black-and-white fur blended so well with the steady rain that Robin didn’t see it until she was almost on top of the animal. She stomped her foot on the brake. Her car skidded on the wet pavement, but didn’t stop. The dog bounced against the bumper, stumbled for a few steps and collapsed on the ground with a pain-filled yelp.

Robin cringed, her stomach lurching into queasy. Hands shaking, she pulled her car to the shoulder. She turned off the ignition, set the emergency brake and flashers and got out. The tempo of the rain increased, soaking her T-shirt.

The wet fabric clung to her skin, making her shiver.

The dog
lay stunned, its chest and stomach heaving.

“Mommy, what happened?”

Robin looked over her shoulder. Lindy had slid from the back seat into the driver’s side and opened the door. “Stay in the car, Lindy.” She watched until her daughter shut the car door again.

The dog struggled to its feet, cried out and plopped back to the ground, deflating like a balloon. Robin laid her trembling hands on the animal’s side. The mutt growled.

“Easy. Let me see how bad it is.” Having lived and worked with a veterinarian in her foster home, she made a quick search for broken bones or injuries and didn’t find any. Robin gently felt the animal’s stomach, but the mutt twisted around and nipped at her. Sighing, Robin scratched the dog’s ears to calm her. The dog’s belly was full of puppies and she appeared close to delivery.

Scruffy. Dirty. Thin. Pregnant.

Probably mistreated, too, judging from the scabs around her throat.

No collar.

Robin nibbled on her lower lip, weighing her options.

“Mommy?” Lindy hung out the now open car window. “Is the doggie all right?”

Boo pushed out next to her. “Did we hit it, Mommy?” Boo’s head tipped to the sky. The slowing raindrops bathed her face.

“Yes, honey. It was an accident. I didn’t see her until it was too late to stop. You
two get back inside the car before you get soaked.”

“I love the rain, Mommy. It doesn’t hurt to get wet.” Boo grinned.

Robin shook her head. Her sweet daughters—they loved rainy days and walking in puddles. Both of them loved animals, too.

“Can we take it home, Mommy?” Boo’s tone of voice begged for a positive answer.

Robin groaned, her head pounding.

“Is it a girl or a boy?” Lindy asked. Robin’s heart stalled.

“It’s a girl and no, honey, we can’t take it home.” Robin snapped her mouth shut before the girls noticed the quiver in her voice.

Her conscience rebelled at the choices open to her. She wouldn’t leave her and she couldn’t take her. The dog was too big for the front seat. Even if she moved one of the girls’ car seats to the front, the backseat wouldn’t hold the other girl and the dog. Plus, her landlord, Mr. Pearson, barely tolerated her girls, let alone a pet. She wasn’t sure if Echo Falls had an animal shelter, she had no cell phone to call and she certainly didn’t have the money to pay for the dog’s care herself. Deposits and first month’s rent for their dismal house had depleted her savings; the girls didn’t understand she could barely keep a roof over their heads, food on the table and the car running. One more mouth would be too many.

Looking down the road both directions, she checked for a house or another car. Instead, she found wide-open fields of corn crops and an empty stretch of pavement. The dog struggled to its feet, held for a few moments, then a spasm in her belly made her drop to the ground. She needed some good food, rest and a warm place to have her puppies.

A strong gusty wind plastered her shirt to her frame. The rain slowed to a mere drizzle, the replete hush from the sudden change unsettling. Lindy and Boo got out of the car and tiptoed toward her. She stifled a smile, appreciating the humor in their sneaky attempt. She didn’t have the heart to send them back to the car. The girls went down on their knees beside her.

“Be careful.” Robin stroked the dog gently around the neck. “Injured animals don’t always understand that people are trying to help them. They can bite.”

“She won’t bite us.” Boo’s little hands imitated her mother’s stroking of the animal’s fur. Lindy’s reach was a little more hesitant, but she soon was petting the animal, too.

A set of headlights pierced the drizzle, catching Robin’s attention. Looking back toward her car, she saw a truck approaching.

“Get to the side of the road and stay there.” “But, Mommy,” Boo whined.

“Go!” She watched until the girls were safe by the edge. Walking back to her car, she waited for the truck to pull alongside.

Chad Applegate appreciated the soothing rhythm of the rain plopping on his windshield. After enjoying an impromptu dinner with his grandmother—her savory cooking served alongside another grilling about getting a girlfriend—he was grateful for nature’s noise and nothing else.

Shifting in his seat, he groaned from his over- full stomach. “Grandma’s cooking beats mine hands down. Again, as always.”

He smiled. His truck tires slid a bit on the pavement as he rounded a curve. He gripped the wheel, slowed a little more and concentrated on the ten-mile drive from town to his farm. The rain was much needed. It fed the thirsty ground, settled the Texas dust and hopefully signaled the start of a cooler fall. His pumpkin crop could stand some relief from the blistering summer heat.

Up ahead, Chad saw a car parked at the side of the road, its blinkers flashing. He pressed the brake to slow his truck and snapped off the wipers, now dragging on an almost dry windshield. A slender woman waved him down. Neither the woman nor her car looked familiar. Chad stopped his truck several yards from the vehicle.