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“What was your mother in the mood for this season, besides berries and peas?” Carly’s curiosity perked, and she swung her head toward the fence line for a peek.
“Why don’t you ask her?” Jackson jutted his chin toward the shed, pausing for just a second before cutting a path through the emerald-colored grass on the perimeter of the garden. A tall woman wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat stood in profile at the entryway to the shed, reaching up to take something off one of the shelves tucked inside.
“Hey, Ma. You still having trouble with the doors on that thing?” There was a tinge of something odd in Jackson’s voice that Carly couldn’t quite place, but then it was gone, replaced by his easygoing smile as he closed the space between them and bent to hug his mother hello.
“Oh! What a nice surprise.” The expression on her gently-lined face, right down to the sudden glimmer in her cornflower-blue eyes, clearly showed her pleasure at the impromptu visit. “You didn’t tell me you were coming by,” his mother tsked without chagrin. Her gaze halted on Carly, but the happiness in her eyes didn’t budge. “And with a guest, no less.”
“That’s me. Full of surprises.” The genuine affection they had for each other was as obvious as the grass under Carly’s feet, and her gut did a roll-and-twist maneuver that ended in a dull ache right beneath her ribs.
Jackson cleared his throat and continued. “Right. So, this is Carly. She’s the head chef at La Dolce Vita. You know, down at the resort.”
A knowing smile bloomed on the older woman’s face. “I’m familiar with the resort, Jackson.”
He nodded with a sheepish grin, but took the subtle jibe in stride. “Carly, this is my quick-witted mother, Catherine Carter.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Carly’s lips. Her father used to tease her the exact same way. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Carter.” Carly extended a hand, but Catherine bypassed it and surprised her with a warm, quick hug.
“You, too, sweetheart. But call me Catherine.” She took a step back and arched a pale brow at her son. “So, what brings the two of you out my way this afternoon? Surely you have better things to do than sit around in the garden with your mother.”
Jackson glossed over her wry comment with charm so honest and genuine, it seemed as much a part of him as the color of his hair. “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what we came out here to do.” He gestured to Carly, who took his lead and ran.
“I’ve been putting together some ideas for a project related to my work at the restaurant, and if you don’t mind, I’d love to talk to you about your garden.”
She launched into a condensed version of the plan that had been flying through her mind for the last couple of hours, enthusiasm infusing her words even though she put effort into trying to seem neutral. Carly could feel Jackson’s eyes on her as she told his mother about her philosophy on food and what she ultimately wanted to do at the resort, and her ideas spilled out of her mouth on wave after wave of pure excitement. She hadn’t been this truly energized over a project since she’d started at Gracie’s, and the renewed enthusiasm guided her words out into the open, fragrant air of the garden.
“So, if there’s any way you might be able to help me out with your expertise, I’d be really grateful,” Carly finished, sweeping a hand toward the rows of vegetables in various stages of readiness. Catherine regarded her for a long minute, her kind, blue eyes dancing as she shifted her gaze to Jackson.
“Well. When you said you were full of surprises, I suppose you really meant it.” She slipped a basket from a shelf in the shed and passed it to Carly, gesturing to the garden with a reverent smile. “Come on, sweetheart. The best way to learn about planting a garden is to get your hands on it, so we’ll start there.”
Catherine looped her arm through Carly’s, and Carly caught the tail-end of the look she exchanged with Jackson over her shoulder. “There’s some leftover tuna casserole in the fridge if you’re hungry. Help yourself.” Catherine’s smile covered her face from ear to ear, making her look more like a schoolgirl than the mother of a grown man.
“Carly and I are going to be a while.”
* * *
“Okay,seriously? That was the most incredible day I’ve had since…God, I don’t even know when!” Carly clutched the stack of notebook pages she’d scribbled over the course of the evening to her chest, turning to look at Jackson from the passenger seat of his truck. “Your mother is one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met.”
Jackson chuckled, a smooth, rich sound that snuck through the dark cab of the truck to melt Carly’s insides with its sexy warmth. “I think the feeling’s mutual. She was just as excited about planning a garden at La Dolce Vita as you, and that’s really saying something.” He nudged Carly with an elbow, and the contact made her insides squeeze.
“Well, there are no guarantees the execs will bite, but this will go a long way toward presenting a strong plan. I think we really have a shot at this.” Carly straightened the copious notes she’d taken as her conversation with Catherine had drifted from the garden to the farmhouse table inside the kitchen. Two hours, a pitcher of sweet tea and eight pages of notes later, Carly had more than enough down on paper to serve as a springboard, and not all of it had come from Catherine.
“Thanks for calling Luke to get those contracting estimates. I wouldn’t have known the first thing to ask about a project like this.” She tipped her head at Jackson, squinting through the velvety darkness to make out the chiseled line of his jaw.
“I was only on the phone with him for half an hour. No big deal.” Jackson’s shoulders hitched into a nonchalant shrug, as if the phone call had been effortless. In reality, he’d taken two pages of notes himself.
“It would’ve taken me twice as long, at least,” she insisted. “I owe you big time.”
Carly leaned back in her seat, cool night air rushing through the open windows. The last traces of purple bled through the sky at the tree line, and the first hint of starlight began to scatter and blink to life overhead. She drew in a deep, contented breath, letting it swirl around in her lungs.
Her stomach made a sound vaguely akin to that of a charging rhinoceros.
“Whoa! Are you hungry?” Jackson laughed, brows lifted.
She had no choice but to admit it—she was starving. “Sorry. With everything going on, I guess we didn’t eat.”
Jackson rubbed his free palm over his midsection. “Speak for yourself. You should’ve had some tuna casserole.”
Carly’s stomach gurgled again, and she pressed her hand to her side in an effort to shut it up. “I know, and your mom offered twice. I was just too excited to eat.”
