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My dreams for Jackson’s Organic Blooms were scary big, and I needed to be here full-time to achieve them. My family wasn’t the only one depending on the success of the business. I had employees who’d invested their own time and energy into getting us where we wanted to go.
As I moved down the rows of seedlings, inspecting and pruning here and there, I thought back to the way Charlie had talked about his own job. He was proud of his work. I could tell by the way he talked about it and defended it. He’d gone to school for it and had presumably found his calling in the company there in Chicago. How could I expect him to give that up for me when I knew Licking Thicket didn’t have anything that would come close to the kind of career he wanted?
And why was I trying to solve a problem that didn’t exist? It wasn’t like I wanted Charlton to move back here… did I? How could I know when I hadn’t seen the man in fifteen years?
You know him.
My instincts tried to convince me that a person’s character stood the test of time, that the boy I’d admired and wanted to spend time with was the same man I craved today. At least, I wanted to believe that.
And if he was the same man, or if my gut could be trusted, I couldn’t help but want more from him than a one-night stand or two before he disappeared back to the city for another decade.
The squeal of the greenhouse door opening had me spinning around in time to see Diesel Partridge walk in, backlit against the morning sky. I wondered why he was here instead of with his family, getting ready to stuff his face with mashed potatoes.
“Diesel, hey. Everything okay? Parrish? And Marigold?”
His face softened at the mention of his husband and daughter. “They’re fine. Cooking away with Parrish’s aunt and uncle since we don’t eat until later. Which, ah…” He lifted one tattooed hand to scratch his head. “…is why I’m here. Do you have any sweet potatoes?”
“Sweet potatoes,” I repeated.
“Yeah. For, like…” Diesel cleared his throat. “Sweet potato casserole?”
I nodded slowly. “Sure. I grew a bumper crop this year, and we have some in the storage barn. How many do you need?”
“You know.” He shrugged. “A… casserole-ish amount. Also, if you happen to have a recipe for sweet potato casserole, that would be helpful.”
I tilted my head to look at him. “Did you forget to go to the grocery store?”
He winced. “No, Parrish did all that. It’s just that I mixed up his casserole with the casserole I made for the hens, and I accidentally gave the girls the sweet potatoes. Parrish is pretty pissed.”
“Your chickens ate marshmallows?” I asked in sudden concern. “That can’t be good for them.”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “No, no. He hadn’t put them on yet. Those… well, those were used as ammo after he discovered what happened. And then, as soon as he started chucking them at me, Marigold thought it was the best thing ever and started throwing them too.”
I could picture the scene so clearly that I could barely hold back my laughter. “Tell you what. We’ll head over to my sister’s place and steal one of her casseroles. Every year at the Stuffin’, she cons twelve people into picking up one of Gracie Mawbry’s sweet potato casseroles for her so she can have a freezer full for the upcoming year. She’ll never notice one’s missing, I promise.”
I led Diesel over to the side-by-side I’d left by the greenhouse and gestured for him to hop in the passenger seat. Once we were on the dirt trail to Alana’s small house, Diesel turned to me. “You gonna tell me what was up with that big turkey yesterday? Seemed like there’s a story there.”
I sighed. There was no such thing as privacy in the Thicket. “His name is Charlie Nutter. He used to live here.”
Diesel nodded. “No, I know him. Met him last night at the Johnsons’ place. Nice guy.” He glanced at me. “Hot too.”
“Jesus, fuck, Diesel,” I snapped, realizing what he was doing. “Who sent you here?”
He held up both hands in surrender. “I’m here for the yams, I swear.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, subconsciously grateful muscle memory would get me to Alana’s, even if I didn’t spend much time looking at the trail. “Did Parrish put you up to this? Or was it Ava?”
His shoulders slumped. “Just give me something, Hunter. Anything. Do you have any idea how seldom I manage to get any scoop? It’s like knowing my man’s love language and not speaking a word of it.”
I snorted. “Charlie and I… we had a misunderstanding. Years ago. And I was still angry. But last night, we talked it through and forgave each other. It’s all water under the bridge now. Case closed.”
