Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 12431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 50(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 50(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
It was the reason why the plants were celebrating; why my heart pounded in my chest, and my blood warmed as it raced through my veins. This was the reason I couldn’t bring myself to leave Rose Valley; my mate was not only here, but coming to me.
I looked down at my body and groaned before snatching off my daisy-printed apron and stashing it behind a bush. Given the choice, I wouldn’t have picked to meet my eternal love while wearing my remaining gardening clothes - worn jeans and a plain gray t-shirt. But I wasn’t about to step away to change. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t; my feet were rooted to the ground with anticipation.
The truck came to a stop as I wiped my palms across my thighs, hoping to clear away any lingering soil. But when my gaze snapped up at the sound of a metal door closing, and my eyes landed on the man emerging from it, all of my worries disappeared, and my full attention was captured by a sight that shamed even the most beautiful gardens and blooms in the universe.
My mate stepped around the front of his truck and the world stopped spinning, frozen in awe. The afternoon light danced across his sun-kissed skin, and glistened in his hair and eyes, both the color of freshly tilled earth. His jaw was square and smooth, and his shoulders were broad and strong, shifting beneath his flannel shirt, unbuttoned enough to give a glimpse of his smooth, chiseled chest.
“Are you Timber?” he asked in a deep, warm voice, and my eyes widened in surprise. He not only came for me, but he knew my name.
My voice was quiet and breathy when I replied, “I am.”
“I was sent to you.”
I understood Fate worked in mysterious ways, but I never could have expected this. How was he sent? By a dream? A message from the gods themselves?
“By Chuck,” he finished, and my eyebrows furrowed.
Chuck? Who the hell is that? There’s no god named Chuck.
“From Wagner’s Farm and Feed.”
Oh, that Chuck.
“He said you’ve helped him out a lot with farming needs.”
It was true; when I first moved into the area, I walked into Wagner’s to check out the store’s seed selection. But what I found was an aggravated customer griping at Chuck, claiming that the brand of fertilizer he’d recommended didn’t work as advertised. Poor Chuck, an older and even tempered man, was quickly becoming overwhelmed, so I stepped in and offered the customer some advice, while Chuck offered him a discount. Thankfully, the man left satisfied, and remained a loyal customer. I became friends with Chuck, and visited him often to share tips and tricks, and give advice on new products. I enjoyed his company as well as being surrounded by his plants and supplies. Plus, his wife often visited the store with delicious homemade goodies, which was a huge perk.
“And he said he thought you could help me too.”
“Of course I can!” I was more than willing to do anything I could for my mate. His happiness and peace were now my priorities. But I worried he may have misunderstood when his eyebrow flicked up slightly. “I don’t mean that in an arrogant way, like of course I can, I know everything.” Oh good, now he’s going to think I’m an idiot. “Well, I do know a lot about plants. But really I meant that of course I’d help you. I’ll do anything you need.” And now I just sound creepy. I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my curls, wishing I’d just be swallowed up by the dirt I loved so much.
My mate scrubbed his palm across his lips, presumably to keep from laughing (who could blame him?) before stretching it out to me. “I really appreciate it. I’m Jersey, by the way.”
“Jersey,” I repeated as my heart beat faster. I slipped my hand into his, and an electric jolt skittered up my arm. He must have felt it too, judging by the way his gaze snapped to our interlocked fingers. He didn’t pull away, and intrigue painted his handsome features. He couldn’t know what it meant, but it was his soul’s first spark of recognition for its mate.
I could hold onto his hand and stare at him all day, but I knew there was a reason beyond divine intervention that he sought me out. I relished the last few moments of contact before he let my palm go, and I asked, “What can I help you with?”
All traces of intrigue and mirth left his face, and were replaced by worry. “It’s my crops; they’re dying. I’ve tried fertilizer, compost, installing a new irrigation system - no matter what I do, nothing helps. I’ve never seen damage like what is destroying my land. It looks…burnt. Here, I took a picture.”