Page 128 of One Wild Chance

“I meant it.”

“You’re sure?” I study him for a second. “You won’t wake up in six months resenting the farm and regretting going into business with me?”

“Not a chance.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, like he’s got all night for me. “I told you before, I already know what I want.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

“You know what?” I say, poking him lightly in the chest. “You’re a big, grumpy cowboy on the outside, but a total softie underneath.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he says, nuzzling me.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” I kiss his cheek, then lean into him, looking up at the barn that began as a dream.

I think about how I started tonight, hoping for nothing more than an uneventful evening. Unremarkable, in the best way. Instead, I got a town that showed up to support me, a half share in my dream business, and a man who declared his love in front of an entire room of people.

So much for unremarkable.

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Summer

Three months later

The barn is quiet this morning, except for the old radio Earl always has playing low. It’s Johnny Cash today. Winter’s the slow season for fresh flowers, but apparently not for wedding planning, as evidenced by the twenty unanswered emails about booking the venue, currently sitting in my inbox.

Jaxon leans in the barn doorway, hands in his coat pockets. “What time are you going to your mom’s?”

“You want to go to Golden Haven?”

“Yeah. It’s Saturday, right?”

There’s no more Saturday farmers market because of the cold, and no flowers growing anywhere on Lucky Chance until spring returns and the daffodils I planted begin to bloom. Most of my orders involve trips into Lexington instead of cutting them fresh from the field, though I always keep a few bouquets on hand.

“Jaxon, she doesn’t remember much these days,” I remind him. Mom hasn’t remembered my name since the day when I told her I was in love with him.

“I know,” he says. “But I’d like to talk with her about something today.”

I wait for him to tell me what, but he presses his lips together.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“And can I pick out the flowers?”

“Sure. But…”

“I know,” he cuts me off. “Wildflowers are her favorite.”

The memory care facility is quiet when we arrive. I sign us in and lead him down the hall, knocking softly before I push the door open.

Mom’s in bed, looking out the window, eyes foggy as she stares into the distance. She looks smaller than I remember, but there’s something in her face that’s still recognizable: the same curve of her lips, the same softness to her eyes.

“Hey, Mom.”

Her eyes drift to my face.

“I brought a visitor again today.” I step aside so she can see him. “This is Jaxon.”

Her brow creases. “Jaxon?”