Page 2 of True Soil-Mates

And if he can’t even bring himself to shake a slightly dirty hand, he wouldn’t be interested in me in the slightest.

Still, I’m not above ogling hot men. I’ll definitely be keeping my eyes open so that hopefully I can admire him again someday.

2

ALEX

All my life, people have told me how smart I am. But yesterday morning I proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have moments of complete idiocy.

My phone shakes slightly in my hand as I check the time again, comparing it to my watch in case they somehow fell slightly out of sync. Hmm. I might arrive early. I slow my pace. My goal is to arrive at Brody’s Books at theexactsame time I was there yesterday, in the hopes of seeing that magical girl again.

Is she there every morning? Or every week? Have I somehow walked past her before?

I hate that our first interaction was my elbow cracking into her back. When she had turned around, she had every right to glare at me, but her lovely navy-blue eyes were simply curious. Every single thing about her was precious. Her lovely rosebud lips. The faint pink in her cheeks from the morning sun. Her soft curves. The graceful way she moved.

Hearing that she was caring for the plants made me categorize her as nurturing, a quality that I hadn’t realized I craved until that precise moment.

I turn the corner, heart in my throat. She’s…not there.

How on Earth did I not notice those massive planters before? My assistant always points out that I completely miss anything unless it’s sent to me in an email. It’s one of the reasons Carol practically shoved me out of the office to go get my own coffee yesterday. She was worried I hadn’t gotten any daylight in months. As always, she was right.

Brody’s Books is a huge, beautiful bookstore, neatly organized by section. I’ve shopped here a few times, but yesterday was the first time I discovered their incredible coffee.

There’s a long line, but it moves quickly thanks to the efficient barista with orange and hot pink streaks in her hair whose name tag reads “Dana”. She grins when I reach the counter. “Good morning. How may I caffeinate you today?”

“Large Americano, please. No sugar.”

She snaps her fingers with a flourish. “Boom. Another no-nonsense guy here. We’ve also got protein balls and fresh muffins if your brain needs an extra kickstart.”

“Good idea. Five of the balls and a blueberry muffin, thank you.”

She bags everything up for me, and I hesitate after swiping my card. “Is there anything else?” she asks.

Feeling beyond awkward, I lean forward and lower my voice. “Yesterday there was a young lady doing some work on your planters out front. I wondered…I mean, I just have to ask…does she…” I can’t even spit it out.

Idiot.

I’m being an ass and holding up the line. “I’m so sorry. Never mind.” Stepping back, I realize someone is tapping my shoulder. I spin to see Gardening Girl looking up at me with a smirk. “Looking for me?”

“Oh. Yes.”Think fast… Think fast...“I was hoping to buy your breakfast, to make up for smacking into you yesterday.”

The way her eyes dance sends sparks straight through every single part of my body, including some bits I’ve been ignoring for ages. How can one woman possess so much beauty all at once? I feel starstruck.

She smiles, then leans around me to address Dana. “Large mocha and a blueberry muffin, please.”

I’m grinning like an idiot as I swipe my card again. Then my smile stretches even wider when she heads to the seating area instead of rushing out the door.

I follow her to a table. Once my hands are free, I extend one. “Alex O’Clery. Semi-professional awkward guy.”

She holds her hand out, flipping it twice to prove it’s clean before taking mine. “Jasmine Palmer. Plant…guru, I guess.”

Her hand feels amazing in mine. Soft, with a gently firm handshake. I like that.

“Hey – I looked up that stuff about dirt being good for immunity. It’s one of those things I’m sure I’ve read before, but it must have fallen out.”

She laughs lightly. “Yeah, we get bombarded with so much info that our melons can’t hold it all.” Her index finger taps against her temple. “Sometimes I hear yesterday’s stuff echoing around like rocks tumbling down a mountain – sorry, you wanna join me? Please, sit.”

I chuckle, doing just that. “I know exactly what you mean about information overload. And I’m sorry I didn’t shake your hand yesterday. I just spend so much time in cleanrooms that it’s an instinct at this point.”

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