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Though he didn’t want to hear it, she would always be grateful for his caring and kindness. Beneath his gruff, no-nonsense exterior, she had caught a glimpse of that teenage boy standing in his parents’ driveway, for one happy, surprised moment, expecting a birthday party.
Cate wondered if he thought she had forgotten today was his birthday. July 4. She hadn’t forgotten.
When the music started, she closed her eyes and let the day seep into her soul. The warmth of Blossom Branch. Harry’s strong embrace. The sounds of laughter and chatter. The smell of funnel cakes.
The band played for an hour. Halfway through, Harry stepped away for a few minutes and brought back chicken pitas and frosted lemonades.
Cate gobbled hers down and licked her fingers.
Harry laughed at her, but his food disappeared nearly as rapidly.
When the concert was over, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Shopping now?” he asked, with a morose expression.
She knew he was teasing her, but she smiled. “Definitely.”
The vendors ran the gamut. But there was nothing cheap or tacky. Handmade stained glass. Polished wooden boxes. Sterling silver jewelry with semiprecious stones. Small oil paintings and pastels.
And of course, the wood carvings.
Several of the offerings impressed her so much, she asked for business cards with a thought to stocking her store later.
While she was chatting with a woman who made traditional caning for wooden footstools, Harry disappeared.
When he returned, she traced his jaw with her fingertip. “I thought I’d lost you.”
His eyes darkened. “Not a chance.” He dangled a small lavender bag in front of her. “I bought you a present.”
“Whatever for?”
“Because this reminded me of you.”
She opened the gift that was wrapped in white tissue. Inside she found a delicate gold chain probably eighteen inches long, with a single tiny charm—a stylized peach blossom, made of pink Swarovski crystals with tiny clear accents.
“Harry...” Her eyes stung with tears.
“It even matches your outfit.” He took the chain from her. While Cate lifted her hair, he fastened it at the nape of her neck. Then he kissed that same spot, his lips lingering.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
When he faced her again, his smile was warm and intimate. “I figured the woman who holds the unbroken record of being Miss Georgia Peach Blossom four years running ought to have something as beautiful as she is.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Harry touched the small flower. “Tell me you’ll reconsider moving out. I like having you around. You’re better than a puppy or a cat. And I’m not allergic to you.”
She chuckled. “You’re awful. I’ll still see you occasionally. We’re friends, Harry. Nothing will change that.”
He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist and steering her through the crowd. “Good friends,” he said.
“Very good friends...”
By the time they finally made their way to The Peach Pit, Cate’s feet ached, but her heart was full. A petite server with purple hair and a steel stud in her tongue showed them to their table in the corner. “Stella will grab your order in a sec. Enjoy yourselves.”
The atmosphere was loud and raucous, and the food amazing. Cate was too full too fast, but Harry polished off what she didn’t eat.
When the band cranked up, one of the guitarists coaxed diners out onto the dance floor.
Harry smiled. “You game?”
