Page 25 of Coming Up Roses

Cash

I makegood on my word and show up at the municipal park at a quarter till. I figure it's a nice enough day that I can chill out in the shade while I wait for Myla Rose. Not even five minutes later, I see her Land Cruiser park a few feet away from my truck. If I'm being honest, I'm pretty damn thankful she doesn't make me wait long. A part of me was a little scared she wouldn't show.

"Hello there, darlin'," I drawl as I open her car door.

"Oh!" She exclaims, clutching her chest. "H–hey there, Cash. Wasn't sure if I'd see you today or not."

"Told you I'd be here." Our steps fall into sync, my fingertips occasionally brushing her arm as she steers us through the crowd toward the festival entrance. "So, what do we do first?"

"I usually walk the loop and look at the booths." She ducks her head.

"Sounds like a plan."

"For real? You don't mind looking at all of this?" she asks, gesturing over to the walking path lined with tent after tent.

"Why would I?" My head pulls back in confusion.

"Taylor never . . . you know what? Doesn't matter. Let's go.” She picks up her pace and sets off again for the entrance.

I swear, the more I hear about Taylor, the more I dislike the guy. Seems like he constantly made her feel like shit long before he decided to end things with her.

"Cash, you coming?" Myla Rose calls from a few feet ahead of me. Huh. Didn't even notice I'd stopped walking. Guess I got too caught up thinking about her asshole ex.

"Yes, ma'am," I call back, though I make no effort to move. I'm too busy admiring her toned, pale legs. Girl's got a thing for short shorts . . . but you won't hear me complaining. I drag my eyes upward, pausing at her midsection. She's barely showing, but it's there. A slight swell, and goddamn if I don't think she's even hotter for it. I finish my perusal with a quick stop at her breasts—small and perky, a perfect handful—before landing on her face. Her eyes are narrowed to slits, and her full lips are pursed. Busted.

I hustle over to her and grab her hand without thinking twice about it. "Come on, Myla Rose. Lots to see." She glances down at her hand in mine, gasping lightly, but I pay no mind to her. I just tug her along until we fall into step together.

We've made it about halfway around the tent-lined path, and between listening to Myla Rose tell me about the different vendors and the feeling of her hand in mine, her smooth to my rough, I'm having a damn good time.

"You said you used to come with your Grams every year?" I know I'm prying, but I can't help it. This girl has me wanting to know her in every way.

"Mmmhmm, every year, like clockwork. She started coming when she was a little girl, and through the years, she got to know a lot of the vendors. So I guess, eventually, it was kinda like she was coming to catch up with old friends."

"I like that. Tell me about her?"

Her eyes light up at my taking an interest. "Yeah, okay. Grams lived here her whole life. Her husband actually built my house with his bare hands. It was his gift to her when he proposed. Worked on it day and night until it was complete. My Papa passed away shortly after Mama was born, but Grams soldiered on. She raised Mama there, and me. And now, I'll raise my little bean there."

"That's incredible," I tell her honestly. "I can't imagine being grounded by roots like that. Sure would like to, though." She looks at me like she's not quite sure what I mean, so I elaborate. "My dad's job kept us on the move every few years. Actually, I lived here in Dogwood when I was a kid."

"Is that how you know Drake?"

"Oddly, no." Her brows crinkle in confusion, and she looks so damn cute. "When I lived in Arkansas—"

"You met him when he moved away with his mom?"

"It's a small world after all." She cracks up at my line. Her laughter is contagious, and before I know it, we're both doubled over laughing. Honestly, by the time we regain our composure, I don't think either of us remembers why we were laughing in the first place.

"You ready for what's sure to be the best part of your day, Cash Carson?"

"Lead the way, darlin'."

* * *

"The best partof my day is standin' in this long ass line?" I goad her.

"No. The best part is at the end of this line. C'mon."

During our wait, we talk about everything and nothing all at once. I feel so damn comfortable in her presence that the long minutes we spend waiting seem to pass in the blink of an eye.

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