Page 38 of Gardening and Gargoyles

“Pretty little flower is about to get absolutely soaked.”

Her wail bites off the end of my sentence but heralds the tidal wave of my orgasm. My cock erupts as I’m deep inside of her, pressed to her womb, stretching her cunny so that it’ll only welcome my cock after this. “Mate,” I claim, then kiss her.

June sags into my arms, shaking a little. “Mate,” she promises.

Chapter Ten: Storms

Of course it rains. Good. Gardeners love a good rain.

And I can’t sleep. Too excited by the plans we made, impossible plans, but still... I have hope that they might start small, but they’ll grow.

As I watch the rain and make myself a cozy cup of tea around two, the phone rings.

Ian Fenclan.

“Hello, hen,” he says, and I smile at the term of familiarity. I definitely think I’ve been granted “honorary Scottish” status. “I got the text you and Duncan sent about the police and security work.”

“I know it’s probably impossible because he’s not a proper citizen—or a human? Like, how does that work?”

Ian chuckles, which is the equivalent of thunder rumbling, or would be, if thunder sounded jolly. “Well, ye’d think that, but it’s not the case. Not in Pine Ridge. The grand thing is—we are looking for a police officer, specifically for night work. Y’see, Ardy Walsh, our Pooka police officer, is expecting his first bairn in December. His wife is one of the preschool teachers, and she’ll be on leave for quite a while. Some say she’ll probably stay home with the little one, perhaps not come back at all. Did you not say you’re a teacher?”

“Paraprofessional, yes. I have an associate’s degree in education and psychology.”

“Well, we only have four police officers as it is, and one is due to retire at the end of the year, and with Ardy going on leave...Bring your man down to the station tonight, and we’ll sort out his papers with help from Ardy, and then he can start training under him, if he wants to stay in town. You might go along to Bright Stars, the nursery school, and see about a job.”

“I...” That sounds too good to be true.

Except it’s not what I want. And I don’t know where we’d live, and...

And you plant seeds. You plant seeds, and they take time to grow. “I’d love to do that. I’ll need a place to live, of course, starting in August, but Duncan and I talked, and we want to stay in the area. Ultimately, I’d love to have a florist shop and land to grow my own flowers. A little greenhouse...” I trail off.

These are Daniel-sized dreams. Dreams for girls with deep pockets, or men with deep pockets, at least.

“Aye, well, you sure have a talent for it. The town doesn’t have a florist shop—hasn’t since 1993, when Tara McKenna, the dryad who lived at the edge of White Pines, got struck by lightning in a September thunderstorm. The little shop out on First Avenue is a travel agent’s now—but you know, most people book their holidays online these days. It might be a long shot, but old Isaiah McKenna, Tara’s boy, might be willing to lease the place to you so he can do a bit of traveling himself. He’s half-dryad, y’ken, and partial to people who appreciate nature.”

“But he’s still working there.”

“Aye, he is, but he’s seventy if he’s a day—and there’s a flat over the shop, and a good stretch of garden out back. Now... I tell you what, Miss Russo-Mitchell, I own half the land up in those foothills. A dozen lodges, and most of ‘em don’t have a bit of landscaping or gardening. I just trim the weeds down and figure the people on their honeymoons or hunting weekends don’t care much. If you want to use the land ‘round any of my places for gardening, you can do it for say... a hundred dollars a month.”

“Wait, you’re saying I could garden, and grow flowers for a florist’s shop—if I ended up ever having one—on all of the acres out here? For a hundred bucks a month?”

“All right, you’re right. Fifty. You’re makin’ the place look a right treat, and I don’t want anyone to say Ian Fenclan is greedy or ungrateful.”

“No, no, I meant that it was such alowprice! Not too high!”

“Aye, but if you’re the bride of Duncan Mackintosh—and you will be, won’t you, hen?”

I blush. “Yes, that’s the plan.” I smile to myself.

“Then I’d feel better charging less. Did you say you want a wee greenhouse? If you buy it, you can probably set that up in Isaiah McKenna’s backyard, if he leases to you. If not, I don’t doubt you could put it up somewhere on one of my lands.”

“But that’s... That’s too nice.”

“Why? I’ve got acres of the stuff. And you’re here for all of June and July. You can do a lot in two months. Will you be going with Duncan back home for August? His clan’ll want to meet you.”

“I hope so. I have my passport, but he—”

“We’ll fix that up. His grand-niece in Gilcreedy could probably help if we need it. Why don’t you come on into town and talk to Isaiah and Ardy? Stop by the preschool and see if you like it. I know you’ll need somewhere to work until you get a shop up and running.”