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She looks up, green eyes surprised yet welcoming. "If you're offering, I won't say no."
"Never too proud to get my hands dirty," I quip, closing the distance between us.
Not only did she love the sunflower growing kit, she talked me into having a small greenhouse in which she insisted that she could set up on her own today. The idea sounded good based on her love for gardening and my desire to spend more time with her outside of her work and my wood shavings. So, we ran into town and picked up a do-it-yourself greenhouse package where the frame is half-assembled now with metal rods and clear plastic sheets scattered across the grass.
"Hand me that wrench, will ya?" she asks, pointing without looking.
"Sure thing, boss." I hand her the tool, our fingers brushing.
"Thanks, Ry," she says, and there's that spark, that jolt of electricity whenever we touch.
We work in rhythm, tightening bolts, aligning panels. Her laughter rings out when I fumble with the instructions, the paper flapping like a wild bird in my hands.
"Ever considered that maybe those are upside down?" she teases, grinning.
"Upside down, right side up—since when do cowboys need instructions anyway?" I retort, but I flip the page over, and suddenly it all makes sense.
"See? You're not just a hat and boots," she nudges me playfully.
"Never claimed to be." I keep my tone light, but inside, a warmth is spreading. It's not just from the Texas heat.
The structure takes shape, and soon, we're standing back, admiring our handiwork. Jules wipes a bead of sweat from her brow, leaving a smudge of dirt in its place.
"Looks good," I say, pride swelling in my chest.
"Looks great," she corrects, her smile reaching her eyes.
"Thanks to you," I admit.
"Team effort," she insists, bumping her shoulder against mine.
"Hey, Jules?"
"Yeah?" She turns to me, curious.
"Ever thought that... maybe there's more to life than what we've been chasing?" The words tumble out before I can stop them.
"Sometimes. Why do you ask?" Her voice is soft, inviting.
"Because I'm starting to think that maybe... just maybe, a relationship could work. With the right person." I hold her gaze, heart thumping louder than a stampede.
Her green eyes search mine, looking for something. Maybe it's the truth hiding behind my gruff and lonely exterior. Or perhaps it's the silent confession of a secret I’m tired of hiding.
"Maybe," she whispers, taking a step closer. "I could see it working with you, Ry."
And in that moment, surrounded by the beginnings of a greenhouse and the potential of something new, I let myself believe it might just be true.
The clink of glass bottles announces Parker's arrival before I see him. He's got that easy swagger, a six-pack of non-alcoholic beer in one hand – my concession to clear-headed evenings.
"Thought you could use a cold one," he says, eyeing the skeleton of the greenhouse we've built.
"Thanks, Park." I take a bottle, twist off the cap, and take a swig. It's crisp, almost fooling me into thinking it's the real deal.
"Julia over there?" Parker nods toward the sunflowers. These are already showing. We grabbed them at the nursery this morning as well. His eyes follow the figure moving with careful grace among the bright yellow blooms.
"Yep, she's got a thing for sunflowers. She didn’t want to wait for the pods to grow, so we picked up some that are already maturing," I reply, trying to sound indifferent but knowing my gaze betrays me, lingering on Jules as she tends to the flowers.
"Good choice," Parker says. "They're like her—stand tall, face the sun, and they've got this... resilience."
