Page 95 of Matthew
Matthew huffed out a laugh. “Might wanna leave out the part where you nearly tackled a drug mule with a trowel.”
Her lips curved. “No promises.”
She rose slowly, and he stood with her. Her movements were looser now. Still tired, but no longer brittle. She paused near the kitchen and turned back to him, mischief seeping into her eyes for the first time all morning.
“So, if I can’t look at thyme the same way again, what about you?”
He stepped in close, sliding his arms around her. “You can look at me any way you want.”
“Yeah?” She smiled up at him. “My favorite way to look at you is when you’re naked.”
Matthew grinned. “Good to know. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll make it happen.”
The sparkle in her gaze increased. “The word.”
Epilogue
Three weeks later, the nursery had settled back into its natural rhythm, birdsong, the creak of wheelbarrows, and the distant bark of Sammy patrolling the rows like he owned the place.
Which, to be fair, he sort of did.
Callie paused near the back lot, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun as she watched Nate unload a delivery. A newer driver—one she’d personally vetted—hopped down to help him. No fake names, no shady excuses. Just a man with a clipboard and a genuine interest in succulents.
Progress.
The sting of what had happened hadn’t vanished, but the worst of the bruising—emotional and otherwise—was fading. The feds had wrapped their part quickly once the dust settled. Les and his brother were both in custody. The DEA confirmed that Callie hadn’t been a suspect at any point. In fact, they’d gone out of their way to thank her for not panicking and for preserving evidence.
She still wasn’t sure how much of that had been sincere and how much was sheer relief that she hadn’t come at them with a trowel.
Either way, her name was clear. Her business was clean. And for the first time in weeks, she could breathe deeply without a hitch.
Inside the nursery’s breakroom, the fan hummed lazily overhead. A water bottle sweated onto the counter beside a small bouquet of fresh herbs she’d trimmed that morning. Rosemary, lavender, and thyme. The irony still made her smirk.
Matthew sat across from her at the little bistro table Rosie had decorated with gingham fabric and a hand-painted sign that readPlant Kindness, Grow Love. The woman was becoming a true friend, opening up more, letting people in.
Callie picked at the edge of the label on her bottle. “You know what’s weird? I’m still angry. Not only at Les, but at myselffornot noticing.”
Matthew shook his head. “You trusted people. That’s not a weakness, Callie.”
She looked at him. “I trusted someone who stashed drugs under my begonias.”
Lemon balm and climbing thyme to be exact, but begonias was an easier word to say to take out her frustration.
His lips twitched. “Okay, so maybe not your best judgment call. Still, you acted fast. You didn’t freeze. You gave them hell.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Her chest loosened a little at that.
“You did,” he said firmly, reaching across the table to take her hand. “You were never alone in this. And you won’t be, going forward.”
A warm flush spread through her.
He meant it. He always had.
The breakroom had gone quiet, save for the soft rhythmic thumping of Sammy’s tail against the linoleum every time Matthew shifted in his chair.
Callie squeezed his hand. “You know, it’s your day off. Most people use those to sleep in, not scrub down greenhouse benches.”
Matthew smiled crookedly at her. “I enjoy being here.” He gave a casual shrug. “Besides, you’ve seen my place. Not a whole lot of begonias or hand-lettered charm.”
