Page 58 of Matthew
Definitely not Mason or Mickie.
Her pulse ticked up. This guy didn’t glance her way, didn’t crack a smile, just started pulling pallets like he had better places to be. Efficient. Brusque. No greeting. No clipboard banter.
She moved forward, trying to look composed, while her stomach twisted.
The sound of footsteps registered in her ears.
She turned as Matthew appeared from around the side of the greenhouse, sleeves rolled up, ballcap low, stride unhurried but sure.
Her breath left her chest in a quiet rush, as relief and something else washed through her.
He quietly fell into step beside her, and it was crazy how much comfort that simple act brought.
Calm. Solid. Warmth radiated off him, and it fueled her resolve.
“You okay?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Now I am,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the delivery.
Together, they worked in easy rhythm. Matthew handled the pallets while Callie signed off, keeping her face neutral. When he angled one box slightly off the rest, she knew it was the one flagged for Carter to inspect.
The driver didn’t engage in small talk. He rattled off item counts and grunted when she confirmed them. But as he reached the truck’s lift gate, he paused and looked between the two of them.
“Didn’t expect you’d have help this morning.”
His tone wasn’t friendly, nor was it overt. Just off enough to catch her attention.
Callie offered a tight-lipped smile. “We like to stay efficient.”
The man didn’t reply. He climbed back in, slammed the door, and rolled away without another word.
She watched the truck disappear past the tree line, her jaw clenched.
Matthew briefly touched her lower back. “You sure you’re okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah.” Then she glanced at the marked box. “Let’s hope Carter finds something.”
As he walked toward the box he’d set aside, she caught herself watching the way Matthew moved. He was efficient, composed, and aware of everything without drawing attention to himself.
The guy steadied her.
And not with grand gestures or protective posturing, but by simply being there, shoulder to shoulder, eyes open, spine straight.
She wasn’t used to that.
Not in her world.
Not with her guard still up.
Somehow, though, with him, it didn’t feel like weakness to lean a little.
Matthew pulled the box a few feet farther from the others, then knelt and sliced through the packing tape with the kind of care that told her he’d done this before, and not only with potting soil.
Callie crouched beside him, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “What are we expecting?”
“Could be nothing,” he said. “Could be mislabeled inventory. Could be something someone didn’t want labeled at all.”
He peeled back the flaps.
