Page 41 of Taming Her

Well, she hadn’t bloody well asked for it.

She turned away.

The trouble was shehadagreed to it.

And right now, despite her smarting rear, his garden—tumbled, jumbled mess that it was—happened to be a very nice place to stand in.

It had potential, the garden. Maybe his grandmother had kept it nice and it had fallen into neglect when she’d aged. Or perhaps it had become overgrown and unkempt once Griff took over the house.

Ava didn’t know, but a few steps deeper revealed a small stone well with a broken grate. She peered down it. A dank shimmer told her there was water at the bottom.

To the right of the well a path was overflowing with long grasses that seemed to be trying to hide it completely. She had no idea where it led. From where she stood, the garden appeared never ending.

A few large, ancient trees were dotted about. An oak, a sycamore, and the swaying silver birch she’d seen earlier.

“Ava, come and eat.”

She pulled in a deep breath, enjoying the sense of contentment the garden had brought her. It was a rare feeling, one she chased often but rarely caught.

“Ava.”

“Coming.”

They ate at the big pine table in the kitchen, the door to the outside flung open.

“How long have you lived here?” she asked.

“Five years.”

“Was the garden this shambolic when you moved in?”

He huffed. “‘Fraid so. My grandmother couldn’t keep on top of it, and being the stubborn old boot she was, refused a gardener.”

“So who planted it all to begin with? Seems to me there’s been a lot of care and love gone into it at some point?”

He studied her. “You like gardens?”

“Who doesn’t?” She shrugged. “This chili is excellent by the way.”

“Thanks.” He heaped more salad onto his plate. “Both of my grandparents planted and cared for the garden for many years. Trouble is, at just over an acre it’s too much for one person, unless it’s a full-time job.”

“So what else is in the jungle? I got as far as a well before the triffid-like vegetation stopped me.”

“Good, you were supposed to be staying within my sight.”

“I did.” She took a sip of water, then quickly moved the conversation on in case he started a new spanking tally. “Is there a shed? Vegetable patch?”

“Yes, both of those, and a covered berry patch, though likely the birds have broken into the netting by now.”

“Oh, nice, my mother had one.” She paused. “Once upon a time.”

“She liked to garden?”

“Yes, roses especially. But anything really, she had an eye for planting, and for remembering the Latin names.”

“It sounds to me,” he said, “she’s passed that interest on to you.”

Ava laughed. “I don’t think so; I’m not much good at caring for more than a couple of rosebushes.”

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