Page 10 of Charming Deception

Obviously, he’s security.

I smile at him tentatively and continue on. One of the wheels on the suitcase is now giving me grief as I tug it along, but I try to make it appear effortless.

I can’t even see the house yet, but the yard is nicer than any place I’ve ever dreamed of living.

Then I see the house.

The drive sweeps in a loop in front of the mansion. It’s ivory stone, a sprawling two stories, with a massive set of black front doors.

I hesitate, confused. Cole is wealthy, but this is clearly another level.

It’s the kind of estate a man like the one in that big SUV would live in.

I take a deep breath and push on. Why do I keep thinking about him?

Because you haven’t had a sweet, juicy O with a man in way too long. And imagine what it would be like to peel him out of that suit, feel his pulse under his hot skin…

Really not what I should be thinking about right now. But I’m still kind of kicking myself for saying no when he offered me help. And I realize, Troy did that to me.

Of all the things he ruined for me, honestly, eroding my faith in humanity—stress the man part—was the worst.

Maybe I should’ve said yes. It’s the Summer of Yes, after all. So declared by my friend Nicole when I told her I was leaving Troy. She’d been so thrilled about the new life I was going to have now that I was free of him, she’d made me swear to her that this would be the Year of Yes.

But that just seemed too daunting. So I’m starting with summer.

Yes to all the things I used to say no to, the things I put aside for the wrong man, the wrong town, the wrong life.

Yes to the big city.

Yes to my crazy big brother.

Yes to opportunities and risk and the unknown.

“Fucking yes,” I say under my breath.

“Hello?”

I startle as a man’s voice floats out of the foliage beside me. I peer over the lush hydrangea bushes. “Hello?”

A man in the garden gets to his feet. He wears a loose, soil-streaked T-shirt, and squints in the evening sunlight, the lines in his sunbaked face telling me he’s in his fifties or sixties. “I thought I heard a voice.”

“Sorry if I startled you. I don’t usually talk to myself out loud.”

“I do it all the time.” He smiles. “The plants don’t talk back. It’s very peaceful.”

“I know. I work in a garden center.”

Worked. I worked in a garden center. Before I ran out of town.

“Oh? You know plants?”

“I know as much as I can.” I glance around. “We can’t grow a lot of this in Manitoba. I can’t wait to see what all grows here.”

“Well, I’ll take you on a tour, anytime.” His kind eyes crinkle. “They’re my pride and joy. Don’t tell my kids.”

“You planted all this?”

“Some of it. Some was here long before I came along. Gardening… They say it’s cheaper than therapy.” He winks at me. “If someone’s paying you to do it, even better.”

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