“Yeah, but he didn’t put his ugly mug on them.”
My family trained horses. Palmer Ranch was home to several four-legged superstars. Our horses appeared in films and commercials. That’s how I first got the Hollywood bug while accompanying my father to movie sets. Oz had worked on the ranch since he was old enough to walk and now he was alongside my father traveling, training, and running the day-to-day operations.
On our way back home we stopped at Figs and Twine to pick up some seeds and flowers. While my mother chatted up one of the staff members, I wandered deeper into the lush greenery until I reached the greenhouse section, which was kind of like being transported to paradise. The fountains, strategically placed, drowned out any outside noise from the road or nearby customers. I stopped at a pad of sunflowers and inhaled deeply. They should add a few tables and maybe offer coffee. If they did, I would lose hours in this unexpected Zen Garden.
It was impossible to be unhappy in a place like this. Chap who? Nature always had the ability to soothe me. I grew up outside and all I needed to shift my perspective was fresh air and sunshine or a cool breeze with a hint of rain in the air. You couldn’t get this in Los Angeles. It was all concrete, traffic and overly landscaped and manicured open spaces. I liked my nature wild and untamed. Tall grass, rich soil and wildflowers leading the way like my own personal yellow brick road.
“Can I help you?” A deep raspy voice with extra Tennessee twang called from behind me.
“I’m just waiting for my momma.” I turned to find a tall strapping man standing in front of me. With copper skin from being kissed by the sun. His gray T-shirt was doing the heavy lifting, defining the muscles in his arms and chest. He was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a tattered ball cap. The brim of that cap curved, shielding his eyes. When he smiled the sun seemed to shine a little brighter, like it was siphoning some of his energy to power up.
“Fancy?”
“Yeah,” I said cautiously.
The man adjusted his ball cap to reveal his eyes. “It’s Edison.”
“Edison Birch?” Shock was written all over my face. In high school Edison was cute, but he was never this. This man was rugged and grown. Like fuck you on the porch while waiting for the sun brewed iced tea to finish seeping type of grown. Edison’s family owned Figs and Twine, but I didn’t expect to run into him here. And I certainly didn’t expect the butterflies his visage was inducing in my nether regions. I brushed my curls from my face. Why had I opted to sleep late so I only had fifteen minutes to get ready?
My hair was dehydrated, frizzy, and in need of a good wash. My outfit consisted of the first shirt I pulled out of my luggage,I wasn’t even sure if it was clean, and a pair of cut-off shorts. I looked a hot mess, and I was standing in front of Edison Birch who’d decided to sprout up at least five inches since I last saw him with biceps for days.
“What are you doing here? Other than waiting for your momma.”
“Here at Figs and Twine or here in Hume?”
“The latter.”
“Visiting, I’ve been away for a long time. Too long.”
“I know Mrs. Palmer must be tickled pink.” He flashed a crooked smile.
Fuck me. They didn’t have this brand of male in LA. His muscles were the result of hard work, not hours in the gym. And his flawless skin was the product of fresh air and clean water. Men in LA were often neurotic, maybe because life in a major city required you to be ten steps ahead. Edison’s molasses laced speech made it clear he wasn’t in a rush. As if standing here chatting with me was the most important part of his day. Everything and everyone else could wait, his attention was trained on me.
“She hasn’t stopped talking since I pulled up to the ranch.”
“How long are you here for?” His eyes casually tripped down the length of my body and heat whooshed up my neck, ears, and over my cheeks.
That was a good question. I didn’t have a plan, people who run away in the middle of the night rarely did. Hopping my shoulders, I replied, “Don’t really know. Kinda playing that part by ear.” I gave him a long, curious look. “You’ve grown Edison Birch.”
“Have I?” His tone was actually one of surprise as if every single woman in town hadn’t told him how fine he was. Hume was small and pickings were slim. If Edison was still single, thenI could guarantee there was a long line of women looking to remedy that.
“Before I left you had a bird chest and now … well now you look like a bucking bull.” I wish I could claim I was playing it cool, but I was practically drooling.
“Country living will do that to you.”
“How’s the family … Dial, Cyrus?”
“We’re good. Still here.”
“I heard Cy’s the mayor now. That’s … wow.”
“We’re still getting used to it.”
“It’s crazy knowing the beer bong champion is now the mayor.”
Edison chuckled at the memory. “To be fair he only won the beer bong competition because Ozzie was sick.”
“I remember he ate like ten hot dogs, puked, and Dial had to take him home.”
