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Pippa
Pippa looked past the stack of books on the front desk as a woman entered her shop.
“Good morning. I’m Pippa. Can I help you find something?” Pippa pushed her blue reading glasses farther up her nose.
“Actually yes. I’m wondering if you have this book?” The woman held up a sticky note with a name and author scribbled on it.
“Let me see.” Pippa tapped a few keys, searching for the Cannabis-growing title the customer needed. “Looks like I can get it here in the next week. Does that work?”
The woman nodded. “Yeah, that should be fine.”
“What’s your name?”
“Nova Emerson,” she answered.
Pippa’s gaze whipped up to her again. “Are you Ricky’s sister?”
Nova tipped her head to the side as if studying her more closely. “Yeah.”
“Oh, I met him last weekend at The Shipwreck, and he told me all about the cool stuff you and your family do. Sorry—didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
Nova chuckled. “I thought maybe you were one of his crazy hookups.”
Pippa shook her head. “Nope. He saved me from drinking alone and I pestered him with questions about working with bees. But the icing on the cake was finding out you got your medical marijuana-growing permit and became a pot farmer. I think that is so cool. I’ve always wondered . . .”
Nova leaned in. “Yeah?”
“I’ve heard there are some benefits to using marijuana to control seizures.”
Nova smiled. “Absolutely. A few of my clients use it for that. They’ve had great success. Talk to your doctor and they can get you a card. Here’s my contact for when you’re ready.” Nova handed over a black business card with a pot leaf on one side with her information next to it.
“I think I’ll do that.” After she’d taken the payment for Nova’s book, she waved goodbye.
Aspen came rushing into the store a few minutes later, a huge smile on her face. “Guess what?”
“What?” Pippa asked, joining in on her glee.
“The town youth commission is putting on a midsummer’s dance!” Aspen’s voice rose a couple octaves.
Lady snorted and stood, sniffing Pippa before licking her hand and sitting back down. Pippa petted her and slipped her a treat. “Good girl.” She turned back to Aspen. “That sounds so fun.”
Aspen clapped her hands together excitedly. “Dad says I can buy a new dress for it, and I want you to come help me pick it out.”
“Me?”
Mason entered the store, his unsure gaze catching Pippa’s as he walked closer. Half his mouth quirked up in greeting. It was cute. It was clear from their conversation the other day that Mason thought of her as a young girl—though the way he’d stared at her double Ds made her doubt he was blind and grumpy. And thirty-four was hardly too old for a twenty-six-year-old. Did he find her attractive too?
“Of course, you. Pleeeeease?” Aspen begged.
Mason put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Sweet pea, I said you could ask, not beg. Pippa might have other things to do.” He mouthed sorry to her.
Pippa stood from behind the desk, tucking her loose curls behind her ear. “When do you need to go shopping?”
“Saturday,” Aspen answered.
“Or Sunday. We really don’t want to intrude, but I told Aspen she could ask.” Mason cleared his throat as if nervous.
“It sounds like fun. I think I can do it—on one condition.” She held out her finger.
