Trusting The Cowboy. Carolyne Aarsen
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you the oldest?”
“Erin and I are twins, but I’m older by twenty minutes. And you?”
“The same. So yeah, I hear you on the protecting the younger ones.”
Lauren smiled back at him. And as their eyes held, he felt it again. An unexpected and surprising rush of attraction. When her eyes grew ever so slightly wider and her head lowered just a fraction, he wondered if she felt it, too.
He dragged his attention back to the road and fought down the emotions.
You’re no judge of your feelings, he reminded himself, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as if reining in his attraction to this enigmatic woman.
He’d made mistakes in the past, falling for the wrong person. He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t afford to.
Especially not with Lauren.
* * *
“You can still plant these this year, but you won’t see them flower fully until next season.”
The young girl wearing a green apron, a huge smile and a smudge of dirt on her neck held up the pot holding the spiky-leafed lily. She turned it as if checking it from all angles. “It’s a stargazer and they tend to bloom a little later in the season than the Asiatic does.”
The warm afternoon sun filtered through the greenhouse, creating a tropical warmth. Plants in full bloom filled most of the wooden benches with swaths of pink and yellow petunias, the delicate blue, lavender and white of the lobelia, the hard red, salmon, white and pink of geraniums. People filled the aisles, talking, comparing, and laughing. A few people had greeted Lauren, some she recognized, but she couldn’t pull their names out of her memory.
The atmosphere in this place was one of quiet and peace. As she drew in a deep breath of the peaty scent, a sense of expectation thrummed through her. Though it was getting close to the end of the planting season, the shop still had a lot of stock.
“Which color is this lily?”
“This is the deep pink one. The flowers are edged with white and the spots on them are a darker shade of pink. They smell heavenly, though some people find it strong.”
The young girl, Nadine, had been a veritable font of information. Lauren found herself wandering deeper and deeper into the greenhouse and buying far more plants than she had anticipated.
She had quickly gotten her groceries, and instead of waiting, had come into the greenhouse, which was right beside the grocery store.
And then she met Nadine, and here she was, eight pots and seven twelve-packs of flowers later. Helping her aunt in her flower shop had given Lauren some knowledge. Though she knew little about bedding out plants and perennials, she was learning.
She shot a quick glance at her watch. Vic had said he would meet her in front of the store at two. It was only one forty-five.
“They come in white, as well,” Nadine said. “Just think how nice they could look together. A cluster of white in the middle of a bunch of pink. You’d have to buy more than one white, though.”
“You’re bad for my wallet, girl,” Lauren chided as she picked up the tag attached to the plant Nadine had pointed out. It showed a large white six-petaled flower with ruffled edges. She was imagining them in the rock garden that edged the deck. Neither she nor her sisters had met their father’s mother who, apparently, was an avid gardener when she lived on the ranch.
Lauren’s mother had never been interested in gardening, and when Lauren and her sisters had visited the ranch, they’d been too young to care.
“Did you get your grocery shopping done?”
The deep voice behind her made her jump and Lauren spun around to see Vic standing there, thumbs hanging above the large buckle of his belt. He had rolled up the sleeves of his stained twill shirt, the hat pulled over his head now tipped to one side.
His mouth curved in a laconic smile, but she easily saw the warmth of his eyes.
She swallowed, frustrated again at the effect this man had on her.
“Yes. I put the bags close to the entrance,” she said. “One of the cashiers said she would watch them for me.”
“They’re in the truck already,” he said, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Sonja told me you were in here and that you’d left her in charge of your food.”
She had felt strange enough leaving her groceries with the chatty woman at the front desk who assured her she wouldn’t eat her food. But then to have Vic simply load them in the truck?
“Everyone knows everyone in Saddlebank and even worse, everyone’s business,” he said, his grin deepening. “Am I right, Nadine?” he asked the greenhouse clerk, winking at her.
The girl blushed, looking down at the pot she still held, turning it over. “Yeah. Well. That’s Saddlebank.” She gave Vic another shy glance, her flush growing.
Nice to know she wasn’t the only one he had this effect on, Lauren thought, reminding herself to stay on task. To keep her focus.
You have your own plans. He’s just a hindrance and a distraction.
A good-looking distraction, she conceded, but a distraction nonetheless.
“So what do you all have here?” he asked, pointing to the plants.
“Gerberas, lilies, petunias, some marigolds. Lobelia, geraniums and million bells—”
“Gotcha,” he said, holding his hands up as if to stop her, looking somewhat overwhelmed. “Do you need help packing these up?”
Lauren glanced from the wagon holding the flowers she had chosen to the rest of the greenhouse. She could spend another hour wandering, planning and dreaming, but she had taken up enough of Vic’s time and she knew he was anxious to get back to work.
“I have to pay for them first,” she said. She turned the cart around and walked down the wooden aisles to the checkout counter.
But her feet slowed as she passed a preplanted pot of pink and purple million bells, white lobelia, trailing sweet potato vine and yellow aspermums. She pinched off a dead flower, her hand arranging the one vine.
“That’s pretty,” Vic said, his voice holding a note of approval.
“I love the colors they’ve used. It would look lovely on a deck.” Then she pulled her hand back, knowing that she had already spent more than she should, and marched on, resisting the temptation.
She got to the cashier, unloaded her plants on the old wooden counter, pulled her debit card out of her wallet and slapped it on the counter as if afraid her more practical self would convince her it was a waste of money.
“You’ve got some lovely plants.” Sonja bustled about as she rang them up on the old-fashioned cash register, her gray curls bouncing. She was an older woman, with a rough voice and a broad smile. Her T-shirt proclaimed Life’s a Garden. Dig It. “If you need any help or advice, you just call. We can answer all your questions. ’Course, you have your aunt to help you out. I know you used to help her at the flower shop from time to time,” she said.
“I’m sorry, I feel like I should remember you,” Lauren said.
“I used to deliver perennial pots to your aunt’s shop,” Sonja said. “Used to see you and your sisters there once in a while.”
Then Lauren did remember. Sonja was always laughing and joking, her personality filling the store, making it a fun and happy place to be.
But before Lauren could say anything, Sonja was finished with her and already on to the next customer. Lauren looked around for Vic, doing a double take as she realized he was purchasing the pot she had just admired.
“Figured if you liked it, so would my mom,” he said as he pulled his wallet out of his