Page 39 of Accidentally in Bloom

Duke sauntered up to him, a ball in his mouth, and Gray leaned down to scratch his ears. “Hey, buddy. You trust me, right?” Duke leaned against Gray’s knees, sensing his puppy love was needed. He looked up into Gray’s face, and his sneaky tongue caught Gray on the mouth.

“Blech, c’mon man.” Gray laughed and wiped his mouth, scratching Duke’s ears. He picked up the ball Duke had dropped and flung it down the hill.

It was a fresh spring afternoon, but the days were starting to get warmer as they barreled toward April. Gray took a second to wipe his brow and surveyed the azalea bushes with pride. He was proud that they’d be planted in someone’s yard and be a part of their life for years.

He tamped the dirt down around the young branches and started hauling them onto a cart. He had a fuck ton to do, but at least he had the fresh air and breeze surrounding him. Alex would be here in a few weeks, and he had to get ahead of schedule so they could spend a few days with just the two of them.

He still felt terrible he’d skipped his visit to Montreal a few weeks ago. Maybe that’s why he was so irritated today. He was trying to balance it all, and it felt like he was drowning. He always felt like he was failing, being a long-distance dad. He’d tried to make the best of his visits, but nothing was better than holding Alex in his footie pajamas after he’d just woken up. It had been too many weeks since he’d seen him.

And to think I used to get paid to drink on a beach. He laughed at himself. He was voluntarily shoveling dirt and pig manure, dreaming about holding his son. He wasn’t sure when the transition had happened from LA party boy to farmer dad, but he was glad it happened.

The muscles in his neck and back unwound from the stress of the morning as he lifted the planters. He loved working in the dirt almost as much as he’d loved photography. It had the same quick satisfaction of a job well done.

He’d loved photography, but it had been too stressful. There had been no room for error. At least he was only fighting the elements in farming rather than temperamental models, executives, and impossible standards.

Impossible standards. Rose and her never-ending to-do list shot through his mind.

She always had her shit together, but he’d seen her let her guard down. The real Rose slipped through sometimes, the passionate, messy person she kept locked away so everyone else was at arm’s length. It was the mask, the cool demeanor she put on that irritated him. She wasn’t a robot, but she sure as hell liked to pretend.

Shame echoed in his head as he remembered how he snapped at her. He’d had a long night at the greenhouse last night, an early morning, and to top it off, he’d had another nightmare about Casey. Rose wasn’t the reason he was on edge, but she didn’t know that. Unlike him, she probably knew very little of what the bottom of the barrel looked like.

Duke howled beside him as a luxury car pulled into his driveway.

What was Nash doing here?

Gray hefted his cart toward the driveway as Nash got out, holding two large coffee cups.

Gray sat the shovel down and dusted off his hands. “One of those better be for me.” He grabbed the large cup from Fox & Forrest that he knew would have a fantastic latte in it.

Nash leaned down to scratch Duke, who sat patiently in front of him. “I was going to go through the expansion financials with you and thought you could use a pick me up.” Nash calmly sipped his coffee in his impeccable three-piece suit. He couldn’t look less at home on a farm if he tried.

Nash cleared his throat as they walked to the house. “How are you doing? I know today is probably hard.”

Gray gulped the hot coffee, and it burned down his throat as he realized what day it was. Maybe that’s why he felt like tearing his hair out today. Seeing your best friend OD in front of you seems like something you’d remember. That day five years ago was when Gray decided to get sober for good. He’d booked a plane ticket to Pennsylvania and checked himself into rehab within a week.

“No, I’m good,” Gray lied. Change the subject so you don’t unravel. Distract. “The new stuff will go over there,” Gray pointed to where he’d use the new equipment he was getting the loan for.

“If you were good, then maybe I wouldn’t get one thousand annoyed texts from Rose about how she wants to strangle you because you’re overworked.”

Damn, Nash saw through the distraction.

He was overworked and running on empty. Whatever less than empty was. A black hole of empty.

“I’m fine. She’s the one who has too much on her plate. But thanks for the coffee.” Gray sent him a charming smile.

Nash’s eyes narrowed as if measuring him. “I’ve got to run, but text me if you’re up for losing this week. I’m in the mood for some basketball.” Nash jingled his keys in his pockets as he walked back to the sleek, black car.

“Prick,” Gray called out companionably.

“Asshat,” Nash called back, smiling, as he slid into his car.

Maybe I am tired. He’d been working non-stop and had maybe, okay shit, probably been a dick to Rose. As Gray walked back to his plants, an idea sparked on how to make it up to her.

ROSE

As Violet and her best friend Aaron sat giggling into their wine at Fox & Forrest, Rose stabbed at her salad, picturing Gray’s face under her fork.

Aaron reached over and put a hand on Rose’s arm. “Hon, that lettuce is already dead.”

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