Page 82 of Playing it Country

“You built this?”

Case pauses and looks back at me still in the doorway, like he forgot I was even here the moment he entered the space.

“Designed it. Researched it. Mapped out the best spot on the property for optimum sunlight. My brothers and I built it.” He delivers each line the same way he’s been living.

There’s this nonchalance to his tone as if he’s prepared to be underestimated. Like he’s always been overlooked and never bothered to change anyone’s opinion of him.

“So why not shout it from the rooftops? This is amazing, Case.” I run my fingertips delicately over the petals of a bloom next to me.

“I don’t need anyone’s praise to do what I love.” He looks around. “I could sell the patent for my design. Isla has the paperwork all ready for my signature, but this has always just been for me. I don’t need people to be impressed with me in here.”

“You and Otto just act like you’re goofballs, and you are to be sure, but that’s not who youare—either of you.”

“What about you?” he says on a sigh. “Why are you always runnin’?”

I don’t love his deflection but I let it slide. For now.

“I’ve always thought of it as floating. I float from one spot to the next. Like dandelion seeds on the wind.”

“Floating, huh?”

“Yeah, there’s no hurry. And there’s plenty of time to stop and smell the flowers along the way.” I lean forward and inhale the sweet pink blossom before me and then meet Case’s gaze. We exchange a small smile as I stand and lean a hip against the bench.

“Okay, so tell me why then?” There’s something in his tone I can’t quite decipher, like the answer is more important than I realize.

Thinking for a moment, I shrug nonchalantly even as my heart rate kicks up a notch. “I guess I’ve always just been this way. My parents are like this. Even growing up, they’d pack my brother and me into the car as much as they could and we’d just take off. Some of it was planned, some wasn’t, but we always had fun.”

“I see,” he says, but I can tell he doesn’t understand. His home is here in Clementine Creek and he’s never doubted that.

“I guess it’s like no place has ever felt like home because I carry that sentiment with me wherever I go.”

“What do you feel bein’ here?” He motions around the greenhouse, but I know he means the town beyond these glass walls.

“It’s different than any place I’ve ever been, that’s for sure.” Now he leans his hip against the bench and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What’s that mean?” His posture is casual but just like before, I can tell this matters to him.

“As much as everyone would like you to believe it, all small towns are not the same. Clementine Creek is a family—people genuinely care about their neighbors and how they’re doing.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“I guess it depends. I heard this thing about people on the West Coast being kind but not nice and people on the East Coast being nice but not kind.”

“Okay…”

“Like fixing a flat tire—people on the West Coast would be sympathetic to your plight but not help you. Whereas people on the East Coast would change your tire for you but curse you up and down.”

“And where does Tennessee land in your analysis?”

“I don’t think there’s a single person in this town who would let Miss Thelma change her own tire, myself included, and I’m not even that good at it.”

He chuckles. “You’re right about that.” I raise an eyebrow and he clarifies, “About Miss Thelma, I mean.”

I hum and then study the plants in front of me before speaking. “I’ve never known anywhere to feel like home, and then I came here and I don’t know…” I can’t find the words and I don’t miss the sadness that flashes in Case’s eyes. It’s gone in an instant, but I know what I saw.

I don’t like it, so now it’s my turn for deflection. “What about you?”

“Why are we back to me?” He takes his baseball hat off and runs his fingers through his hair before putting it back on his head.

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