Page 26 of Fall or Nothing

Harper startled me at my side. “Everyone in the shop had a clear view of the two of you this whole time. Mark my words, there’ll be gossip going around about you by tomorrow.”

“There’s nothing to go around.” I shook my head.

“So you claim. But people see what they want to see, and people talk.”

Great. I was living my own Forest Grove Gossip Gal moment, with no genuine romance to show for it.

An hour later, Pam arrived and didn’t blink at the price. She paid in full in cash for all the bottles, added a few more things from the shelves, and stayed forty minutes longer chatting with Harper about local markets and holiday pop-ups and the print shop in Lewistown that did the church bulletins. They could apparently do labels and logos for next to nothing.

“Hear that, Sage? You could get yourself a pretty logo. Let’s see… what could your business name be?”

“Wylde Blooms,” I repeated the name Carter had uttered earlier before I could stop myself.

“Ooh, I like it. And I’m honored to have been your first customer,” Pam exclaimed. By the time she left, it was mid-afternoon, and time for me to head next door to relieve Ivy for an afternoon shift at her store.

“How does it feel to have that extra cash?” Harper pointed to my pocket.

“It was just a onetime thing.” I reached in and curled my fingers around the money. Every cent was going into my future travel fund.

“That’s what everyone says at the beginning.” Harper held up the napkin where she’d drawn a loose lavender sprig, the words Wylde Blooms below it, the letters rounded and clean. “Before they know it, they have a business to run.”

She set the sketch in front of me. I admired what she was trying to do, but I’d spent a lot of years being useful to other people. I’d never once thought that made me anything other than someone who showed up when she was needed. Poppy had her college and career plans. Daisy had the orchard and Knox. Ivy had the shop and the Chamber of Commerce, Cowboy Nights and Colt.

I traced the wordsWylde Bloomswith my fingertip. For the first time in years, I had something that felt like it wastruly mine.

Unfortunately, the person I most wanted to share this small victory with was the same man who had restlessness in his eyes and heading out of town soon.

I folded the napkin and slipped it into my apron pocket anyway. Some dreams were worth holding onto, even if they came with an expiration date.

NINE

Grounded

CARTER

“I can’t tellyou how good it feels to be working with you today instead of Trig,” I said as Jake and I repaired a section of fencing.

“At least I’m a hell of a lot more handsome to look at,” he quipped.

“That’s about right.” I slammed the posthole digger into the frozen ground, muscles screaming. Jake watched me struggle for a moment, then demonstrated the proper twist. “Work the tool, not your back.”

I paused, took a deep breath, adjusted my grip, and tried again. It went in cleaner, better. Jake crouched to check the angle.

“Done this before?” he asked.

“Not exactly.”

“It shows.” He took the digger from me and demonstrated the slight twist at the bottom, opening the ground rather than hammering through it. He stood a few inches taller and could probably bench a hundred pounds more than me, so I reasoned that gave him the advantage.

“My experience lies more in farming than in ranching. Planting, gardening, that sort of thing. Different kind of work.” I covered up for my lack of skills. “I’ll concede the expertise to you.”

“First thing you’ve conceded this week, I’ll bet,” he chortled without edge.

When we’d set the first post, we stopped for a coffee break. From the ATV nearby, he pulled a thermos Eldon had packed for us at breakfast and poured both of us a cup. The ranch cook brewed coffee black as coal and nearly as hard-hitting as a shot of Italian espresso.

I asked, “Where’d you learn to work a ranch?”

“I grew up around here in a neighboring county. My folks have a place west of town. I came back after I left the Navy SEALs.”