Page 24 of Eight Years Gone

“Brandon,” Grace said, grinning her relief as she started walking again, thrilled that their part-time morning help was back. “I’m so glad you’re here. I thought a.m. football still had two more—”

She froze in the doorway, her cheery mood vanishing when Jagger hefted two heavy buckets of purple cosmos.

He tossed her a nod as he moved to the walk-in fridge. “Hey.”

She shook her head as she stared.

He’d gotten a haircut. The barber had gone tight around the sides and back, keeping the top slightly longer. And he’d shaven away his beard, leaving behind the irresistible shadowy scruff she’d skimmed her fingers over hundreds of times before.

She snapped back to attention, ignoring the flexing and bunching of his awesome arms as he wore a plain white T-shirt and black athletic shorts. So much sexiness and power. “What are you doing?”

“Aunt Mags asked me to help with the flowers this morning. She has Rotary.”

Grace headed toward the dozen buckets that still needed to be put away. “She hasn’t been to Rotary in months.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“We don’t need help.”

He tossed her a you’re-full-of-shit look before he got back to work.

Hefting two buckets of Celosia, she followed him to the fridge, breathing in the scent of his soap and shaving cream. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I can handle this. That’s why I’m here early.”

He set the buckets down, facing her when she stepped inside the chilly space. Seconds later, the door closed behind them.

This was really happening. Jagger was standing in the refrigerator with her, smelling amazing and looking even better.

“Aunt Mags asked if I could give her a hand until Brandon gets back.”

Grace felt her eyes go wide. “But that’s two more weeks.”

He nodded. “That’s what she mentioned.”

“But when are you leaving Preston Valley?” The ultimate question she needed an answer to. She needed to know the exact moment he planned to walk away again.

He shrugged. “I’m helping Todd while he’s injured, so it’s hard to say.”

Surely this was a bad joke. When she’d talked to Ruby a couple of days ago, Todd’s wife had mentioned that a full recovery could take months. “I don’t—I can’t— Aunt Maggie should have talked to me about this arrangement first.”

He brushed past her in the tight space, his hard chest sliding against her arm. “That’s between the two of you.”

She dropped the buckets with a hard plop, following him again. “Jagger.”

He stopped.

“I really can handle this. I’ve been handling it for a long time.”

“Well, I’m here now.” He picked up another two buckets of Dianthus and left.

She swallowed, closing her eyes as he walked back into the fridge. This wasn’t going to work. She needed him to leave—the shop and Preston Valley.

But she already knew he wouldn’t go if he’d given Todd and Aunt Maggie his word, so she headed for the front of the shop, waking up the computer to figure out what she needed to do for the orders that had come in since closing.

Printing out the invoices, she squared her shoulders, then returned to the processing room, ready to do what she could to make the best of a super crappy situation.

When Aunt Maggie got back from her Rotary meeting, they were going to talk.

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