Page 75 of Arranged To Be Mine

I froze, looking up at her.

“You want me to help you garden?”

“Only if you want to.” She shrugged, but I caught the hint of uncertainty in her posture. “I just thought… I don’t know. It might be nice to have company.”

A slow smile spread across my face. “I’ve never gardened a day in my life.”

“Then I’ll teach you.”

I glanced down at my manicured hands as she pulled on gloves.

“Got a pair for me?” I asked.

She looked at my hands and then shook her head. “None that will fit you.”

I sighed. “Guess I’m rawdogging it.”

24

DARCY

Iwatched him kneel beside the flower bed. His expensive slacks would likely be ruined. I’d feel bad if I didn’t think he could afford to replace them. He’d rolled up his sleeves, exposing tanned forearms that I definitely wasn’t staring at. His hands rested on his thighs and he stared at the plants like they might bite him.

“So I just grab it?” he asked, eyeing a weed.

“Grip it at the base and pull straight up. You want to get the roots. Otherwise, they’ll just grow back.”

He wrapped his fingers around the stem and yanked. The weed snapped in half, leaving the roots firmly planted in the dirt.

“That’s not what we want to happen.”

“I can see that.” He exhaled. “Shit.”

I bit back a laugh and demonstrated on the weed next to his. “Like this. Slow and steady. Feel for the resistance, then work it loose.”

He tried again, this time managing to extract the whole thing, roots and all. The look of triumph on his face was almost adorable.

“This is weird,” I admitted, sitting back on my heels. “I always do this alone.”

“Really?” He shot me that cocky grin that should have been annoying but somehow wasn’t. “I figured you let all the guys rummage around in your back garden.”

I shot him a look, but a smile cracked through despite my best efforts. I shook my head. “You’re the first.”

He smiled. I waited for the dirty comeback. “Well then, I’m honored.”

He seemed genuine. We worked in silence for a few minutes. He pulled a few more weeds, getting the hang of it quickly. The sound of a siren in the distance interrupted the illusion we were in some secret garden on the massive estate I dreamed of owning and living on one day. I wanted to be an old lady with a big floppy hat growing more tomatoes than I could ever eat.

I breathed in deeply, letting the familiar scents settle something restless inside me. Beau looked over at me, a question in his eyes. I looked like a loon, sniffing dirt. It was a smell you loved or simply didn’t notice. If I could have an earthy, soil candle I’d burn it all day in my office. That would certainly help quiet the noise. A few more plants. Maybe one of those desktop fountains and it would be perfect.

“Gardening is how I center myself,” I said, not quite sure why I was sharing this. “It’s how I work off stress. The smell of the plants, the soil. It’s like I feel reconnected to something real. Something more tangible than numbers on a spreadsheet.”

Beau paused his weeding, looking over at me. “I get that. I usually run. I love a beach run, bare feet in the sand. Or a drink.”

I smiled. “Both valid options.”

He went back to work, pulling at another weed.

“I don’t remember my mother much,” I said quietly. The words came out before I could stop them, floating into the evening air. “But I remember her in the garden. We had one at our old house. She’d spend hours with her hands in the dirt.”