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Dial

“Can you move those new planters to the north side with the rest?” I asked Luke, one of Figs and Twine’s staff members, while walking through the nursery. Slowing to a stop, I checked out the new cacti plants. They were some of my favorites because I could relate to being prickly but beautiful to look at at the same time. My daddy called me Prickly Pear on account of my fetching visage but thorny demeanor. I’d been like that my whole life, and the people closest to me were often left picking spines from their asses.

This nursery was my safe haven and second home. Since our parents retired, it had demanded much of my time. I’d always been a workaholic. In early and staying late. Starting at my laptop screen until my eyes blurred. My momma always said, “Only one thing out beats hard luck, and that’s hard work.” The Birch family didn’t need any four-leaf clovers because we were smart and resourceful, and that trumped the luck of the draw any day.

Take this nursery, for instance, which had been in my family for generations—the only reason it hadn’t shuttered like other businesses was from working smart. Not being reactionary or chasing trends but listening to our customers and offering up expert advice about flora and fauna. Figs and Twine was the largest nursery in town, our only rivals were them big-box stores in Nashville.

It put a smile on my face knowing I’d played a small part in that success. Shit, I was being modest, and that wasn’t really my style. I worked my ass off and it was satisfying knowing I’d had a significant hand in keeping our legacy alive. For the longest time I thought giving one hundred and ten percent to the nursery, with its never-ending demands, was one of my best qualities, but now I wasn’t so sure. You know the saying, all work and no play makes Dial a dull girl? Well, my personal life was unremarkable in every way.

My life consisted of three things: Maple—my beautiful seven-year-old daughter—work, and family, which other than Maple included my two brothers Cyrus and Edison. Those three things kept me busy, but of late it wasn’t keeping me content. And I wasn’t all too sure what I needed to do to fix that. But I did know I couldn’t keep ignoring the nagging itch for something new and exciting. Which was silly really, because there was never anything new or exciting in Hume. Life here was predictable—that was kind of the point of living in a small town.

As you might suspect, dating in Hume was like trying to hit the moon with a dart. First, I was a hard nut to crack. And second, men were… stupid. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d met a guy that piqued my curiosity. Maybe I was interested in what was in their pants, but their heads and hearts, I couldn’t care less. Plus, relationships were just as much work as a full-time job. I didn’t have room in my busy schedule to cultivate a meaningful connection. Sure, I’d considered lighting the vacancy sign just to see if I still had it. Thoughts like that were short-lived when men tried to flirt with me while I loaded bags of fertilizer into their truck or helped them pick out the best bushes for the yard.

Climbing the steps leading to my office, I was greeted by Edison, my baby brother and joint owner of Figs and Twine, coming from the other direction.

“Morning, Dial.”

“Not you being early for a meeting,” I joked.

“Fancy brought us coffee and some pastries.” He handed me a cup as we entered my office.

“I know she’s bored to tears if she’s going on coffee runs.” Fancy was Edison’s girlfriend and a big-time country music star. Something was in the water, because unassuming Edison, who recoiled from the spotlight, had ended up with a woman who was chased by paparazzi, was the cover girl on magazines. Like, literally, I’d peeped her preening on the cover of Elle while getting gas and jerky at the Gas Guzzle.

“She was taking a smooches break.” He flashed a goofy smile.

I rolled my eyes, flopping into my chair. “Ugh, gross.”

“The concept of love or—”

“You two and your googly-eyed kissy-face sessions.”

“Dial Birch, ladies and gentlemen, the only woman who detests human connection.”

“I’m fine with the human connection, but the emoji-filled text messages, and you two always holding hands like one of you might get lost, is getting old.”

“Aren’t you tired of being a hater?”

“No, I actually delight in it. It’s one of my best qualities.” I flipped my locs over my shoulder.

“Uhm… no.” Eddy took a sip from his cup. “You know, I could get you in on this action.”

“What action are you referring to?”

“Dating.”

“Weren’t you the one not too long ago telling me to mind my business when it came to your personal relations?”

“Yeah, but that’s only because you suck in the love department and I didn’t want your bad mojo infecting me.”

I hated to admit it, but points were made. It was like someone had it out for me and had cast a very specific spell over my dating life: May Dial Birch only meet men who want to waste her time with fake platitudes and small dicks. “I’m not interested.”

Edison was sporting an “I know something you don’t know” grin that I was all too familiar with. “Fancy and I were in town the other day and Shelton asked about you.”

I scrunched my nose as if the air had turned sour. “Why would he do that?”

“I think he has a crush.”