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My heart skips a beat, the way it always does when this sexy man is near. “And what do you want?”
He leans close, his breath against my cheek when he says, “What I want are these curves pressed up against me every day for the rest of my life. I want all of your smiles. Your laughter and your tears. I want decades together. I want you wearing my ring and carrying my kids.”
I sway toward him, my resolve weakening. Maybe one date would be fine. That’s not too much to ask, right?
Before I can make up my mind, Martha opens the door behind me. I spring away from Greer like I was doing something wrong. I hold up the folder she asked for. “It’s right here. I was just…”
Greer tips his head toward Martha. “We were talking about how she’s going to marry me one of these days.”
Martha beams at him. She knows I haven’t even accepted a date with Greer. “Let her get back to work. Your mama is ready to go, Greer.”
He brushes a kiss to my forehead before giving me a wink. “See you at the altar, pretty girl.”
I watch him go and shake my head. The big, bossy cowboy is crazy.
* * *
“He’s just a flirt,” I repeat to myself as I set the flowers in a vase and put it on my desk.
Spencer never bought me flowers. He left another voice message on my phone last night. I listened to it a few minutes ago. He was belligerent in this latest one, demanding to know where I am so we can “talk things through”. That’s never going to happen.
I trace the delicate petals with my fingertips as I think of the cowboy with a kind gaze. It’s been hours since he was here to pick up his mom. Mrs. Maple has multiple sclerosis and uses a motorized wheelchair. She’s on experimental medication as part of a study, and she comes in every week for lab work. I haven’t had a chance to talk with her, but she and Martha love to gossip together.
Martha walks into the waiting room. “Evie, honey, are you busy? I need you to take this down to the candle shop.”
She holds up a brown satchel. I recognize it as Mrs. Maple’s. She must have left it here after her appointment.
I've never been to the candle shop in town. But that's not why I'm nervous. It's the thought of meeting Greer's mother.What if she doesn't like me?
I'm being ridiculous. It doesn't matter whether she likes me or not. I am not marrying that cowboy. I'm not even going on a date with him.
I push to my feet and stand, hoping that my nerves don't show on my face. "Sure. I'll be right back.”
“Bring me some of those snickerdoodles from Haley's place, since it’s on the way.”
I narrow my eyes. “That is what you really wanted me to do.”
She puts a hand to her chest, feigning innocence. “I would never waste the resources of this clinic like that."
Since it's a beautiful day outside, I walk to the candle shop. I love Main Street in Courage County. I love the little shops and the sidewalk with its cracks and dips and the trees that sway in the breeze. Spring is in the air, and I lift my head, enjoying the feel of sunshine on my face.
The bell above the door rings as I go into the candle shop. My mouth is dry, and my hands are clammy.
Mrs. Maple wheels around the counter.
For a moment, neither of us say anything. We stare at each other, and I feel every beat of my heart, every pump of my blood through my veins.
Finally, she smiles. “You must be Evie. Thank you so much, dear. Would you like to stay for a glass of sweet tea?"
I let out a breath, feeling oddly like I’ve passed a test I didn’t even realize I was taking. My relief is short lived though as I struggle to get my next breath in. I didn’t even consider the fragrances in the shop or what they might do to my asthma.
I shake my head at her offer for sweet tea. My words come out wheezy, “I have to get back to work.”
“Greer is outside, unloading inventory,” she says. Is that hope shining in her eyes? I can’t quite tell.
“I’ll just be on my way,” I say, panting for the next breath. It sounds like I’ve run a marathon. Without waiting for her response, I turn on my heel and leave the shop. I take a few steps before realizing that it’s bad this time.
I’m leaning against the wall, feeling the scratchy bricks through my thin T-shirt. My fingers are squeezing the handle of my bag. I just have to hang on for a few more seconds.
