Page 17 of Love in Full Bloom

Outside, the day has warmed considerably, the morning mist long burned away by the sun. We walk slowly down the path, neither of us seeming eager to end our time together.

At her car, she turns to face me. "Thank you for showing me your garden. It's truly special, Ben. A perfect reflection of you."

"Thank you for seeing it that way." I step closer, drawn by the warmth in her eyes. "And for your insights about the stream area. You've given me exactly what I needed."

"I'm glad." She looks up at me, a question in her expression. "So... what happens now?"

The directness of her question makes me smile. "Now I'd like to see your studio. Your creative space. If you're willing to share it."

"I'd like that." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's not as impressive as all this, just the spare room in my apartment. But it's where the magic happens, I guess."

"Then it's important." I reach out to take her hand. "How about tomorrow evening? I could bring dinner."

Her smile brightens. "That sounds perfect."

I lean down to kiss her goodbye, intending something quick and light. But when our lips meet, the same electricity from earlier courses between us. Her hand comes up to rest against my chest, and I pull her closer, deepening the kiss. When we finally part, we're both a little breathless.

"Tomorrow, then," I say, reluctantly stepping back.

"Tomorrow." She gets into her car, but rolls down the window before starting the engine. "Ben? This was wonderful. All of it."

"For me too." I rest my hand on the car door, not quite ready to let her go. "Drive safely."

As I watch her car disappear down the driveway, I'm struck by a realization that should probably concern me but instead fills me with a quiet joy: in just a few days, this woman has become important to me in a way I didn't expect. Her perspective challenges me. Her presence grounds me. Her smile makes me happier than I can remember being in years.

I turn back toward my garden, seeing it with new eyes—her eyes. The wildflowers pushing through between my carefully placed stones. The volunteer saplings I've allowed to remain where they sprouted. The natural patterns I've enhanced rather than erased.

For the first time, I truly see the dialogue between structure and wildness that Jasmine recognized immediately. The conversation between what I've designed and what nature has contributed. The beauty in that collaboration.

Just as there's beauty in what's growing between Jasmine and me—something unplanned but promising. Something worth nurturing to see what it might become.

I smile to myself as I head back to work on the stream garden, her suggestions already reshaping my vision for the space. Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JASMINE AND BEN

I drive home from Ben's property with my heart so full it feels like it might burst. The morning we spent together keeps replaying in my mind—the way he looked at my paintings with genuine understanding, the feel of his hand in mine as we walked through the gardens, that kiss that still makes my skin tingle when I think about it.

For the first time in forever, I feel seen. Not just as an artist, but as a person. Ben doesn't just tolerate my "whimsical" side—he appreciates it. Values it, even. The way he listened to my ideas about the stream garden, his excitement when I suggested working with the natural patterns already forming... it wasn't patronizing. He truly wanted my perspective.

I hum along to the radio as I pull into the parking lot of my apartment building, already thinking about tomorrow evening when he'll come to my studio. I should clean up a bit, maybe move some of the half-finished canvases to make space. But not too much—I want him to see my creative process, messy as it sometimes is.

My phone buzzes.

Elena: Coffee at Perks in 30? Need to hear EVERYTHING about Garden Man.

Me: Be there in 45. Need to shower off the garden dirt first.

At home, I quickly shower and change, unable to stop smiling as I get ready. The reflection in the mirror looks different somehow—my eyes brighter, my movements more confident. Is this what happiness looks like on me? It's been so long I barely recognize it.

Forty minutes later, I push open the door to Perks, the local coffee shop where Elena and I have been meeting for years. She's already there, waving from our usual corner table, two mugs steaming in front of her.

"There she is!" Elena calls as I approach. "Looking suspiciously happy for a Monday."

I slide into the chair across from her, wrapping my hands around the mug she's ordered for me—chai latte with an extra shot of espresso, my usual.

"So?" She leans forward, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "How was the garden tour with Mr. Landscape Architect? And don't leave anything out."

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