Page 14 of Chasing Love: The Owens
“Oh, you’re Poppy’s friend.”
I nod.
“Sorry, she said she’d be back soon. The bees just aren’t behaving, I guess.” She laughs.
Poppy has an apiary on the ranch, and she sells the honey they produce at the ranch’s store that Lottie runs.
Bennett glances my way with a crooked smile. Why does he have to be so… distractingly handsome?
“Can you let us know when she gets here? I’m going to show Delaney around,” he says.
Summer, unaware of our history, smiles and waves us off, tearing a sheet of kraft paper off the roll and starting on a bouquet. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Come on in, I’ll show you the offices.”
I glance at Summer, then lower my voice as I step closer. “I’m here to tell Poppy I can’t take the job.”
His shoulders sink. “Give me five minutes to change your mind.”
“Bennett,” I sigh. The last place I need to be is alone in a room with him.
“Five.” He puts up his hand, all long five fingers spread wide.
“Go, you two, I’ve got this handled!” Summer calls cheerfully.
Bennett waits for me, his gaze steady and unreadable.
“Okay.”
I follow him through the doors marked Plant & Petal Landscaping. The hallway is short—his office on one side, a small break room on the other.
“There’s not a lot to see, but can I offer you a coffee?”
I lean against the doorframe of the break room, shoulder pressed to the wood, watching him pull down two coffee mugs. Each one is pretty and unique with a different glaze. I’m pretty sure they’re handcrafted, not mass market.
“You said five minutes.”
His dark hair is trimmed shorter than I remember, and the scruffy beard is new, making him appear older. Where did that boy I once loved go? The one with the backward baseball cap and broken-in jeans?
“You don’t have to drink it all. Still take it with cream and two sugars?”
God, don’t swoon, Delaney. Do not swoon that he remembers the way you take your coffee.
“That was in my younger years. Black is fine now.”
He fills both cups and walks toward me. I hold out my hand, but he doesn’t give it to me.
“I’ve got it. Come into my office.”
I sigh but step aside. He passes, and I trail behind. Bennett sets the coffees on a table in front of a couch.
His office has charcoal walls and dark furniture. It screams man’s domain, but also father with photos of his daughter softening the space. Wren’s smile beams from the pictures interspersed with framed drawings dotting the bookshelves.
Then I spot it. On the top right shelf is a wedding photo of him and Kristie.
The knife in my gut twists.
I sit carefully, trying not to think of all the what-ifs. What if I’d made a different choice. What might’ve been.
