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Blythe didn’t wait for a response from me. “Follow me.”

I barely had time to shoot Rose a questioning look before Blythe was dragging me away. As soon as we were out of earshot, she playfully punched my shoulder. “You are smitten, Wells Calloway.”

I scoffed, rubbing the spot where she hit me. “I am not.”

Blythe crossed her arms, giving me the kind of look that only family could master. “Oh, you so are.”

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “You’re seeing things.”

Blythe just arched a perfectly skeptical brow. “Oh, am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re looking at Rose like she hung the damn moon.”

I glanced back toward the stand, where Rose was laughing at something Wren had said, her shoulders loose, her face soft in a way I didn’t see often.

I looked away just as fast. “She’s a good person, that’s all.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Blythe smirked, arms still crossed. “And that banner? The logo? The way you practically beam every time she so much as breathes in your direction?”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I just want her to succeed, Blythe. She’s been through a lot. The least I can do is help.”

Blythe studied me for a long moment, her gaze softer now. “You don’t just want to help her. You care about her. Maybe more than you’re willing to admit.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to.

She let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Look, I’m not here to push you, Wells. But I do know you. And I’ve never seen you act like this with anyone before.”

I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure,” she said, clearly not believing me. “But if—or should I say when—you realize it is like that, don’t be a dumbass about it. She’s my best friend and she’s been through a lot.”

“I know.”

Blythe’s eyes went wide. “She told you?”

I nodded slowly. “Last night.”

“I can’t believe she told you. She keeps shit bottled up.”

“I am painfully aware.”

“I’m shocked she told you. She barely told me and I’ve known her for years. That means something, whether you realize it or not.”

Before I could come up with a retort, Wren’s voice rang out again. “Mom! Uncle Wells! Auntie Rose’s famous now!”

Blythe and I turned just in time to see Rose standing behind her stand, a small group of customers still lingering even though she had nothing left to sell.

Rose shrugged, looking a little bashful as she explained something to an older woman who nodded enthusiastically.

I felt that familiar warmth settle in my chest again, but I ignored it.

Blythe, however, didn’t. She elbowed me. “Uh-huh. Not like that, my ass.”

I sighed and started walking back. “Let’s go before you get any more ideas.”

But as I approached Rose, who looked up at me with bright eyes and a soft smile, I had to wonder if Blythe saw something I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

HELL OF A VIEW

For the past three weeks, I’ve been selling out of flowers halfway through the market. It was a great problem to have, but it left me scrambling at the end of every day, wishing I had brought more. This time, I was determined to be ready.