Page 13 of Wallflower
I go easy over the loose gravel because I’m not used to driving on anything except city roads, and I’m captivated by the ranch itself. I lower my window to get the full experience. Summer air that smells like clean, damp earth. Lush green vines in perfect rows and empty fields lying beyond. Woodlands behind that. Glimpses of water—a river, maybe? A lake? Mountains in the distance. A panoramic picture of paradise.
Eventually, a bright white structure with a sign declaringSilver Leaf Ranch & Vineyardabove it comes into view. Hedgerows appear on either side of the driveway just as perfectly planted garden beds turn the wild landscape into something tamed but no less beautiful. Next thing I know, I’m pulling around a turning circle in front of a building with a welcome sign and easing into one of a dozen car spaces markedguest.
I shut off the engine and take a deep breath. I did it. I’m here.
And… I’ve got no idea what to do next. I peer out the car windows, front, back, both sides, but there are no signs of life.My only instructions were to be here at ten a.m., but I’m early, and I’m in no rush to see Chord Davenport again, so I sit back in my seat and nibble my lip while I debate my next move.
I’m still sitting here five minutes later, knees bouncing and stomach getting tighter, when a tap on my car door scares me half to death.
A woman about my age, maybe a couple of years older, gives me a polite smile. She’s got warm brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and a black shirt with a Silver Leaf Ranch & Vineyard logo embroidered on one side.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but you’ve been sitting here a while, and I thought you might be lost.”
“Oh. Thanks, but no. I’m not lost.” She steps back as I open the car door, and I thrust my hand at her in an awkward attempt at confidence that’s fooling nobody. “I’m Violet James. Chord Davenport is expecting me.”
The woman shakes my hand, but her professional friendliness fades away at the mention of Chord’s name. “I’m Charlie, Chord’s sister. It’s nice to meet you, Violet, but you must have your wires crossed. Chord’s not here.”
My heart, which only a moment ago was flying like a bird in my chest, freefalls to the ground. “He’s not?”
“No.”
Charlie walks away, and I practically fall the rest of the way out of the car, scrambling to follow her long strides toward the building behind us.
“I’m sorry you’ve come all this way for nothing but—” She cuts off, turning and regarding me with narrowed eyes. “Are you from the press?”
“Me?” I squeak. “No!”
“A puck bunny?” She shakes her head and huffs out a disgusted chuckle. “You’ll have better luck going to his games,and tell your friends, too. Save yourselves the drive and the embarrassment.”
“Apuck bunny?”
She takes off again, gravel crunching under her boots, and I hurry after her.
“No, I’m from the San Francisco Fury and—”
“It doesn’t matter where you’re from.” Charlie stalks toward the set of enormous white timber doors fronting the reception building, then tugs one open and holds it ajar. “Like I said, Chord’s not—”
“Aunt Charlie!”
A little girl comes careening around the corner of the building, skipping and skidding over the loose stones. She’s a curious sight in a red cowboy hat, khaki camouflage tee, neon pink tutu, and tiny cowboy boots caked in mud and dust.
I smile a little as she slides to a stop in front of Charlie, then grins up at her from under the brim of her hat. “Guess what?”
Charlie lets the door swing shut as she leans down and tweaks the little girl’s chin. “What?”
“Uncle Chord’s here!”
Charlie’s head jerks up, and she looks at me like I’ve tricked her. My stomach drops as I raise my palms, not sure what to say, and two more people stroll around the side of the building.
I release a sigh when I recognize Chord, looking so sexy in a simple black t-shirt and dusty Wranglers that I’m at risk of choking on my own spit. But my relief is short-lived once I see the hard look on his face. Any hope I might have had that Chord would be softer—or at least less intimidating—around his family evaporates on the spot.
“You’re early.”
My mouth pops open. Yes, I’m early. In some parts of the world, that would make me responsible. Reliable. Anenthusiastic go-getter. In Chord Davenport’s world? It makes me a nuisance.
“Chord.” Charlie’s glance bounces between us, and her suspicion is obvious. Does she think we planned this? The idea would make me laugh if I wasn’t at risk of sounding hysterical. “When did you get here?”
“Just this morning.”
