Page 64 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector
He goes still. I mean it. All of it.
"How did you do this?"
He looks across the field.
"I learned. Read a lot. Tried things. Got plenty wrong."
That's it. No boasting. No list of accomplishments. No attempt to make what I'm looking at seem more impressive than it already is. If anything, there's a humility in the way he says it, as though the field deserves more credit than he does.
I look around again.
"I don't believe you got this from a few books."
His mouth curves.
"More than a few."
I laugh.
"There it is."
"What?"
"An actual answer."
"Don't get used to it."
I crouch beside one of the squash plants and touch the edge of a broad leaf.
"So what's different?"
"About what?"
"Your vegetables. I've worked with produce from excellent suppliers. Yours tastes different. Better."
His expression changes again. This time, I have his full attention.
"You noticed."
"Of course I noticed."
He crouches beside me and picks up a handful of soil.
"It starts here."
I look at his hand.
"The dirt?"
"Soil, Hart."
"Sorry."
"No, you're not."
"Not particularly."
His mouth twitches. He lets some of the dark earth fall through his fingers.
