Page 1 of Alpha Ruined

CHAPTER 1

BREE

“Okay,ladies, if you could all smile for me,” she says, standing in front of the group of older women. They hold their small potted plants in their hands, excited smiles plastered on their faces.

The Holden Garden Club just won best flowers in the county, and the members are thrilled. Standing outside the entrance to city hall, Bree takes a picture on her phone, capturing the group’s cheer.

It will make a heartwarming story in the newspaper.

Bree matches the women’s grins, her hazel eyes crinkling in false delight. “Perfect,” she says, and the club members turn to each other and chatter excitedly.

Nothing happens in the tiny town of Holden.Nothing.

Bree can only write so many articles about flowers, dogs, and art clubs before she expires from boredom.

She loves her job, but she knows there are far more interesting stories to tell.

Holden Garden Club Wins Best in Show.

She frowns at the title in the notes app of her phone, wishing she could think of something more catchy.

Friendship Blooms at City Hall.

That sounds a little better.

“We appreciate youso much.” A mature woman with kind dark eyes approaches her, a potted lilac plant in her hands. “We’ve never been featured in the paper before. It’s exciting!”

Bree gives her a smile. “It’s my pleasure. I’m always happy to write stories about others.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. You’re doing a great thing, writing for the paper. Even if no one but us old folks read it.” She waggles her grey eyebrows.

Bree lets out a chuckle. “Thank you, but we have some online readers as well.”

“Still, there’s something about having it delivered on my doorstep that a computer can’t replace.”

“Right,” Bree agrees. “My father felt the same way.”

A twinge of sadness hits her, but she keeps the slight smile on her face as the other woman speaks.

“I’m Dorothy, by the way,” she says as she extends the potted plant to Bree. “Please take this succulent as athank youfor the article.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that?—”

“All of us insist,” Dorothy says, holding out the pot. “Please. This means the world to us gals, really.”

Bree takes the plant and studies it. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes. Hues of lavender, lilac, and light pinks accentuate the delicate swirling leaves that form in an intricate, rose-like shape.

“They’re simple to take care of, too. So even if you don’t have a green thumb, it’ll survive almost anything,” Dorothy adds.

Bree has never been more envious of a plant in her life.

But she simply nods. “I adore it, really,” she says politely. “Thank you.”

The older woman nods, then gestures to Bree’s cream sweater. “I don’t know how you can wear long sleeves in this weather,” she says. “I would be melting.”

“I run cold,” Bree lies, plastering a thin smile on her face.

She’s always in sweaters, and anytime the weather is mildly warm, someone asks about her clothing.

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