Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
The two men headed toward the door together, Pike pulling it open first. Cool spring air slipped inside, carrying the clean smell of wet dirt and melting snow from the mountains above town.
“See you later,” Boyd said.
“Later,” Pike added.
Adam lifted a hand in farewell. “Drive safe. Looks like another storm’s rolling in tonight.”
The door closed behind them with a soft thump. Silence settled back into the bar.
Adam gathered their empty mugs and carried them to the sink. The dishwasher rattled quietly as he slid the cups inside and shut the metal door. For a moment he stood there, looking around the room.
The place was ready.
His gaze drifted back toward the door. Would Bianca consider running a flower shop? Did he want her to stay? Yeah, he did. The realization surprised him.
She really seemed to love flowers.
He set his hip against the counter and rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about the way her face had lit up whenever she talked about planting things. About soil and sunlight and the strange magic she claimed happened when the right flowers were placed in the right place.
Not that he was ready for anything serious. Except after last night, it felt serious. Which wasn’t like him at all.
He pushed away from the sink and walked toward the small corner of the bar where the band sometimes played on weekends. A couple of stools sat nearby, and an old amplifier rested beside the wall. His guitar leaned in its usual place against the chair, the wood worn smooth from years of use.
He picked it up and settled onto the stool.
The instrument felt familiar in his hands. Comfortable. He rested it across his knee and strummed a slow chord, letting the sound fill the empty room.
Outside the clouds had begun creeping back across the sky, gray edges drifting down from the mountains.
Adam played another chord.
He’d been thinking about a song ever since waking up with Bianca that morning. The memory of her tangled in his sheets had stayed with him. Her dark hair across the pillow. The soft sound she’d made when she laughed. The way she’d looked at him afterward, like something real had happened between them.
He shook his head and kept playing.
This was temporary. They both knew it.
Still, the melody came easily. His fingers moved across the strings as he sat back on the stool, staring toward the windows as he worked out the rhythm. After a minute he started humming. Then he let himself sing.
The words came rough at first, half made up, but the tune started settling into a slow rhythm that carried the quiet feeling of the morning. The guitar echoed softly against the wooden walls while he kept playing, adjusting the melody and trying another line.
The bar held the sound like it belonged there. He sang another verse and let the chords trail off before starting again, shaping the words as they came. Yeah.
He had it bad.
CHAPTER 13
Bianca walked down the main street, popping her head into several of the quaint shops as she went. The sidewalks still glistened from last night’s storm, and the air carried that bright, washed-clean smell that always followed rain in the mountains. Her mind spun while her stomach ached with nerves and too much coffee. Mineral Lake looked peaceful on the surface—trucks parked along the curb, a dog tied outside the hardware store, wind nudging the budding cottonwoods—but inside her head nothing felt calm.
The card felt heavy in her pocket.
She paused when she reached Ellen’s Flower Extravaganza.
Fun name for a florist. For a moment she simply stood on the sidewalk and stared through the big front window. Buckets of color filled the display from tulips to sprays of greenery, and the sight tugged at a quiet place deep inside her chest. Flowers always did that. They felt hopeful.
Then she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The scent hit her immediately, warm, sweet, and soft at the same time. The shop was small but bright, sunlight pouring through the windows and catching on glass vases arranged along a wooden shelf. Buckets of flowers lined the wall behind the counter, and potted plants crowded a table near the front.
She walked toward the counter. “Hi.”
“Oh, hi, Bianca,” Ellen said. The blonde woman stood behind the counter tying ribbon around a bouquet. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she wore a pink flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. “It’s finally tulip season if you want to get a bouquet or five.”
“I love tulips.” Bianca glanced around. A small bell chimed softly as the door settled closed behind her. “You have a beautiful place here.”
Ellen gestured at the plants and flowers filling the shop. “Are you looking for blooms for decorating?”
“I actually do need some flowers.” Bianca stepped closer to one of the buckets and thought about the Willoughby place. “But I need them more for planting than arranging.”