Page 25 of Late Bloomer
Something about her hesitant movement and the genuine concern in her voice propels me forward, and I laugh as I wrap her in a hug.
“It’s perfect,” I say, holding tight. “Thank you.”
Pepper is stiff in my arms, and I’m about to pull away, worried that I made her uncomfortable touching her so suddenly. But she shocks me by giving me a quick squeeze, then clears her throat as she steps away.
“Well… one problem we can cross off our never-ending list, then.”
“I’m surprised you don’t use this for farming stuff,” I say, poking my head back in the shed.
Pepper brushes past me. “We’ve never really needed it.” She bundles up the shovels and heads back out the door toward the barn. “A farmer down the road gave it to Lou after he decided to retire and move closer to his kids a few years back, and she was never one to turn down free resources. It’s a nice building but somewhat poorly sealed. Lou worried it would let bugs in for any seeds or tubers we’d try to keep in there, and she already had the tools organized how she liked them in the barn. It’s just sat here, waiting for a purpose.”
“Who’s Lou?” I ask, skipping after Pepper as she enters the barn, the sweet smell of shaded earth filling my lungs. I tilt my head up, looking at the beams crisscrossing above.
Pepper stops short, and I plow right into her, my forehead smacking into her shoulder blade and her elbow lodging into my ribs.
“Ah, damn.” I stumble back, rubbing at the spot above my nose. “We need to put a bell on you or something, or I’m not gonna make it out of this alive.”
“Sorry,” Pepper says, voice rough and low.
“You okay?” I ask, her face ashen.
Pepper is still, gaze fixed straight ahead, intense, but gone, lips parted and ticked down in the corners. After a moment, she gives her head a shake, twisting her features into something a bit more neutral.
“Lou is—was—my grandma. She started the Thistle and Bloom,” Pepper says, dropping the load in her arms and rubbing vicious circles around her temples. “She passed away last November.”
My throat is sharp as a knife’s edge as emotions flood through. I hate seeing people upset, and something about the quiet, contained way Pepper holds her hurt makes me wish I could pull it all out of her and swallow it away, let it chew me up instead.
“My grandma planted a lot of these flowers,” Pepper blurts out, then cringes. “I mean, that’s rather obvious, I guess. She basically tilled the entire farm, so of course she planted the flowers.” She lets out a choked laugh that slices through my stomach.
“Sorry,” Pepper continues, waving at her face, her cheeks sparking red as she continues to hold back emotion that clearly wants to boil to the surface. “I just really miss her and sometimes it catches me out of nowhere.”
Without thinking, I press forward, wrapping her in another hug. It seems to melt Pepper, her arms circling around me as she curls against my embrace.
She sucks in a deep breath, holds it at the top of her throat until the strength of it is pressing on us both. With all the gentleness I can muster, I reach my hand through her hair, tracing it to where it ends on her middle back, then rubbing small circles up and down her spine.
Something in her releases, a rattling sob shaking her frame, arms squeezing me tighter. I have the bizarre and disarming thought that I wish I could hold her forever. Hold this quiet, prickly woman while she cries and while she’s happy. I want—
“Pepper? You okay?”
Pepper wrenches away from me, turning toward a new voice, and I feel achingly… empty, my arms dropping to my sides with a slap.
“I’m fine,” Pepper says, dragging her hands over her face. “Allergies,” she says, voice wobbly and wet.
The woman rolls her eyes and lets out a huff before closing the distance and pulling Pepper into an embrace, cradling the back of her head and rubbing her hand up and down Pepper’s spine. “Of course it is, love.”
Pepper lets out a choked sound, then nuzzles closer into thewoman, finding comfort in her touch. It’s intimate and beautiful and it has no right to gnaw so sharply at my too-sensitive heart.
It’s obvious these two are close, and whatever tangled,ridiculousfeelings I conjured up a minute ago from nothing make me feel like a total fool. I need to get out of here. Leave them be. Paint away these sharp emotions that are leaving brands on my skin.
I try to back away quietly toward the door but, being a chronic dumb-ass, I naturally collide into what I can only describe as the loudest gardening tools known to man, all of them clanging together as I trip over them, sending me tumbling backward until I knock an entire toolbox over.
The two women untangle from each other, both looking at me with alarm as shovels and hoes and other outrageously loud metal objects continue to hit the ground.
Eventually, silence falls, the endless tools circling around me so I’m an embarrassed bull’s-eye at the center. The woman blinks at me, eyebrows furrowing.
“Pepper,” she says, voice guarded. “Who the hell is this?”
Chapter 9PEPPER
