Page 43 of Harvest Moon (Riverbend 3)

His smile slipped. “I heard you were home for the summer and working here again. I thought I’d stop by. You know. See what you were up to.”

It had taken months to get her act together. And a single sighting of him made her feel like the floor had dropped from under her feet. “I can’t talk right now. I’m working.”

She turned back to her roses. The shear’s blade slipped on the cane, an incomplete cut. Drat. She caught sight of her boss helping a customer with the hydrangeas.

“I just wanted to talk. Maybe we can—”

“I’m sorry but I’m working. Unless you want to buy a plant you should probably go.”

He didn’t respond.

Nothing but quiet. Just conversations going on around the greenhouse. The snipping of shears somewhere behind her. A car engine coming to life outside. Gavin must’ve left, though she hadn’t heard retreating footsteps. Maybe that was his truck firing up. Maybe even now he was pulling from the—

A shuffle sounded behind her. “Fine. I’d like to buy a plant then.”

She cut him a look. “Really. What kind?”

“Something for my mom. You pick it.”

Laurel gave a huff. “Indoor or outdoor? Plant or flower?”

“Indoor flowering plant.”

She wandered down the row and selected a potted African violet, blooming in Lisa’s favorite color. She held it out to Gavin. “I think she’ll like this.”

“Purple’s her favorite color.”

Still holding the pot, Laurel’s chin notched up. “Are you going to take it or not?”

His lips twitched as he relieved her of the plant. “I believe I will. Thank you.”

“You can pay for it inside.” She tried to step around him.

He edged over and blocked her path. “Should she keep it in the sun or shade?”

Laurel frowned at him. “Indirect light.” She started to pass him again.

“How much water?”

“Your mom has been tending plants longer than I’ve been alive. She’ll know how to care for a violet. Is there anything else?”

“Would you like to catch up over coffee?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

What was she supposed to say to that? Why was he here, messing with her sanity? She threw her hands up. “I have to get back to work, Gavin.” She nailed him with a long look.

He moved aside to let her pass.

She didn’t relax until his old truck pulled from the gravel lot.

For the next few weeks she was on edge at work, worried (hoping?) he’d show up again. But he didn’t. She spotted him once at the Trailhead, eating with Cooper and Avery. But she’d only come for takeout, so she ducked out unseen.

But the first week in July she turned from helping a customer, and there he was again. Her thundering heart betrayed her excitement at seeing him again. He approached, those faded jeans making the most of his long legs, that T-shirt stretching around his sculpted biceps, those eyes homing in on her. It just wasn’t fair what he did to her.

Why was he here? Why did he keep coming around? She went back to her hydrangeas.

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