Page 5 of Wooded Bliss

Thatcher Bosch was the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. It’s a shame I haven’t seen him in ten years. Considering what he looked like at 19, I’m pretty sure I’d become a messy puddle if I were to see him now.

Wylie has changed over the years, which is obvious whenever I get a glimpse of him. I’m sure the same is true for Thatcher. I bet his arms are even bigger and stronger than they used to be. What if he grew a few inches taller? I’d really have to crane my neck to look at him.

Remembering his dark eyes, ones which seemed to have hidden depths, sends a shiver up my spine. I might have had a ginormous crush on him, but Thatcher never really saw me.

It’s not like I can blame him. No one really saw me back then.

Other than those who come in for flowers, the same is true now.

Honestly, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve always been a bit of a loner, and I have a few quirks. If I could have spent more time out in nature by myself, I would have. Since it wasn’t an option, I found solace with plants and in books instead of activities and people.

At least now, with Blooms Happen, I get more social interaction. It was what I was most nervous about before I opened, but it hasn’t been as bad as I made it out to be in my mind. I like interacting with everyone who comes in for flowers, but it’s mostly surface level stuff.

At the thought of something deeper, Thatcher’s brown eyes flash in my mind.

“No,” I murmur to myself, “he’d never really look at you that way.”

My shoulders slump because I’m sure I’m right. I’ve always been too quiet and a man like Thatcher would be attracted to someone with a little more confidence. Someone not afraid to take up space.

At least, I imagine so. Who would really know? Thatcher and the eldest Bosch brother, Ripp, haven’t been in Whispering Pines in so long.

My heart aches at the thought of Thatcher feeling lonely, but if I had the opportunity to live in the forest would I come back to town? Probably not. I’d have plenty to keep me busy just exploring.

I’m too shy to talk to Thatcher even if he was around. Hell, I barely talked to Wylie, and we had some classes together. I might have had a huge crush on Thatcher, but even I could see that none of the brothers were unattractive. Just the opposite.

I remember hearing a lot of the girls in school tittering about how hot they were. There was a considerable amount of woe around it since none of them seemed interested in anyone. They didn’t date or anything like that. If they hooked up with anyone, somehow, it was all kept hush-hush. I’m pretty sure it never happened because there’s no way some lucky girl would have kept it to herself.

A ding from my computer, letting me know I have a new message, has me turning away from the front window even though Wylie is long gone. While I check out the details for the new order, I can’t shake my thoughts about a certain brown-eyed guy who seemed to disappear.

Thatcher Bosch might be my dream man, but I’m sure he wouldn’t be into a shy, quiet, and flower obsessed chick like me.

CHAPTER 3

THATCHER

The woods are dark and ominous. It feels like the shadows leer and groan as they reach for me. My gut clenches, the forest around me giving off a creepy vibe in a way it never does during the day. Tree branches reach for me.

What happens when they grab me? Will I ever be able to escape them? Will they pull me deeper into the shadows?

I frantically look around. While I don’t sense anything near me, something could be lurking in the shadows. Is there a monster out there? Are they watching me?

When I reach for my bear, I’m met with nothing. There’s an empty chasm where my bear should be. My soul feels as if it’s been ripped apart and only tatters remain. Where is my bear? What will I do if I can’t shift?

My feet freeze in place as everything around me grows even darker. I look up to the sky in the hope of seeing the moon or some stars, but only inky black sky greets me. Where is Mother Moon? Where is her light?

The tree canopy turns denser, blocking out any hope of seeing when the moon peeks out from behind the clouds. Even beyond the clouds, light wouldn’t penetrate the leaves. There’s nothing.

Nothing.

I try to move, to run, and get away from the ominous feeling, but I can’t. I can’t move my feet. I look down, expecting to find some reason why I can’t take a step, but I don’t see anything.

Fear grips me in a way I’ve never experienced before.

While I’m trying to figure out what is holding me captive, I hear something moving through the brush in the forest around me. I peer into the darkness, but I don’t see anything. The sound of heavy breathing grows louder and louder.

Whatever is stomping around in the woods, just outside of where I can see, gets closer. I can feel the ground shake beneath my feet. Whoever is out there, whatever is out there, is big. Willing my feet to move is still useless.

Why can’t I move? Why am I stuck here?

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