Meeting Mr. Right. Deb Kastner

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СКАЧАТЬ I suppose I’ve had enough of a work break now. Your parents aren’t paying me to talk. I should get back to planting flowers.”

      She turned, then paused, her shoulders tensing as she realized she’d returned to a touchy subject for Ben. Was he going to belittle her efforts again—tell her once more how little he valued all her careful planning and design work? She shouldn’t have been surprised that he had no appreciation for her craft, yet she had still felt hurt at his clear dismissal earlier.

      “Where would you like me to start digging?” Ben asked, surprising her when he reached for a nearby shovel.

      Vee released a quiet breath. Gardening was her comfort zone, her sweet spot where she could let go of everything else and just be thankful to God for His beautiful creation. Some might see it as just “digging in the dirt,” but for her, working with flowers brought Vee her greatest joy.

      Did she want to share that with Ben?

      Not really. But if putting him to work meant he’d stop giving his mother a hard time, then what choice did she have? Maybe if he could see how dedicated she was to the task, he’d realize that her work truly was important—to her, if not to him.

      She pointed to the flower beds on opposite sides of the screened-in back fence, and then at the large plot she’d lined out with stakes and thread marking a place for the garden.

      “If you’d please break up and turn the earth for me, I’d appreciate it. I’ll bring you a bag of compost so you can fertilize as you go.”

      “I’ll get it,” he offered. “It’s in the back of your truck, right?”

      “Yes, it is.” She hesitated. “I hate to have you make two trips, but can you also bring back some potting soil for me? I brought new annuals, mostly petunias and mums, to plant in the hanging pots.”

      Ben assented with a nod and strode away. Vee’s gaze followed him until he turned the corner of the house. Then she propped her hands on her hips and surveyed the property, ticking off projects in her mind. The flower beds would be the home to a dozen new rosebushes, and the garden still needed to be seeded with vegetables. Several decorative pots for the back porch awaited her attention, too.

      Now, where had she been before Ben arrived?

      Oh, right. The hanging basket. Falling into Ben’s arms. How could she have forgotten that so easily? It was not her most graceful moment. Her face flamed just thinking about it, so she redirected her thoughts to the tasks at hand.

      She was gathering a variety of hanging and standing flowerpots into a line on the porch when Ben returned to the backyard, a twenty-five-pound bag of potting soil under one arm and a fifty-pound bag of fertilizer slung over his other shoulder. She hadn’t expected him to bring both bags at the same time. He was probably trying to show off his strength, but the gesture was lost on Vee.

      Okay, so maybe it wasn’t quite lost because she’d obviously noticed. It was hard not to notice the solid muscles across his arms and shoulders. But a good man was made up of more than his muscles, and she knew what kind of man Ben was.

      Ben had broken her best friend’s heart. Olivia had stayed in bed for a week depressed and crying over their breakup, which was all Ben’s fault. Vee wasn’t in any hurry to forgive him for that, no matter how good he looked in a T-shirt and jeans.

      “Where do you want it?” Ben asked. He nodded his square chin toward the bag of soil under his arm.

      “Right here is fine,” she answered, sweeping her arm indistinctly toward the ground at her feet.

      Grunting with the effort—or possibly just for the effect the sound gave—he dropped the bag of potting soil where she’d indicated and then lowered the fertilizer bag near the closest flower bed.

      “I’d appreciate it if you’d do the flower beds first,” she said, deciding there was no reason not to be civil with Ben since he’d offered to help—as a non-paid apprentice. “I’ve got a dozen rosebushes in the back of the truck that I’ll be planting in those beds today.”

      “Yeah, I noticed them when I was getting the soil. Do you want me to bring those back here for you, too?”

      “Eventually. For now, just dig.”

      “Pink and red,” he said, sounding like he was just making conversation. “Did you pick out those colors, or was it my mother?”

      “Your mother, actually. I’ve planned most of the landscaping colors palette, but she specifically asked for red and pink roses. Red for love. Pink for gratitude. She said it would remind her every day to be thankful for her family.”

      “That sounds like my mother,” Ben murmured.

      “I’ll get these planters finished and then we’ll worry about the rosebushes. After that you can turn the earth for the garden and I can start seeding behind you,” she said, pulling on her gardening gloves and picking up a trowel.

      She reached for the first tray of yellow mums and easily fell into her task. She’d organized the flowers and seeds according to the layout print she’d prepared of the Atwoods’ backyard. She’d spent a long time planning what would go where according to the palettes she’d created. She loved seeing the way the colors came together to make a final product she could be proud of and the Atwoods would enjoy. It was her artist’s canvas, available for everyone to see and appreciate.

      Ben let out a low wolf whistle as he surveyed her print. She hadn’t realized he was standing over her shoulder. He was supposed to be digging.

      “That looks complicated,” he commented. “And here I thought we were just playing around in the dirt.”

      “It’s a lot more than that,” she fired back before taking a deep breath and reminding herself that she’d decided to be civil. “It’s actually quite interesting, or at least it is to me. The vegetable garden itself is determined by what your mom and dad want to grow, of course, but you get a better yield, not to mention a better aesthetic experience, if you know which vegetables should be planted next to each other for optimum growth and health. We’re going to do green beans, snap peas, carrots and tomatoes for starters.”

      She gulped in a breath of air and continued enthusiastically. It didn’t take much for her to warm to her subject. “As for the hanging baskets, I not only consider which blossoms develop well in this area, but also the arrangement of color palettes...”

      She hadn’t realized she’d launched into a full-throttle landscaping lecture until she noticed the pensive look on Ben’s face. Clearly his mind had wandered, and she flushed at the realization that she’d probably been boring him to tears.

      “And...you really don’t care a whit about color palettes. Sorry. Too much information,” she said with a wince and a guarded chuckle. “I forget that not everyone is as ardent about gardening as I am.”

      “Don’t apologize. I am interested. It’s just that what you said reminded me of a friend of mine who—”

      He broke off his sentence as suddenly as he’d started it, his eyes widening to enormous proportions, as if he’d almost said something monumental, something he’d regret. He definitely looked a little green around the gills.

      “A friend of yours who...?” she prompted, curious as to why he had СКАЧАТЬ